Fair and (three) square(s)
As a vegetarian, there are some cuisines that I consider limited, if not off-limits, to me. I’ve never been particularly worried about this. It’s a kind of agree-to-disagree scenario - if I’m not worth your time, you’re not worth my money. Fair and square.
So to my mind, it’s pretty simple. When it comes to having a choice, this is roughly how I see cuisines…
Thai = brilliant
Chinese = bad
(there’s the occasional exception here, but almost every time I get cornered into going to a Chinese restaurant, I wind up eating green vegetables in soy sauce, boiled rice, and bland, gelatinous silken tofu, which all tastes like pork fat anyway - blerg. In other words, it’s not food you go out for. As for yum cha - don’t even go there!)
German = wouldn’t bother
Italian = great
Greek = good
(though this can vary wildly from menu to menu)
Turkish = good
Indian = good
(if I’m in the mood and the lassi doesn’t poison my friends)
Tony Roma’s Ribs Joint = nightmarish
(and anatomically incorrect)
French cuisine also falls into my “wouldn’t bother” category. I’ve seen enough cooking shows to know that the people who bring you a turkey covered in duck fat, layered in bacon, covered in goose fat (with a sprig of rosemary, of course) and doused in double cream, are probably not going to be renowned for the kind of food I consider edible.
Still, with a few friends and me forming a foodie mini-club, my cuisine comfort zone will be challenged. As well it should be.
We’ve informally dubbed our group ”Olibe Balzac”. “Olibe” because it would be confusing to spell out when we leave phone bookings (hi-larious). And “Balzac” because it’s the name of a nice restaurant in Randwick - and it’s also it’s rude and funny.
Olibe’s purpose is to discover and experience all the good food in our fair city. After all, as far as food goes, Sydney is like Homer Simpson’s “land of chocolate” - a wonderous place filled with good things of all different kinds (Mmmm - chocolate half price!).
Put another way, our Sydney restaurant “shortlist” gets longer by the week.
For my part, I’m throwing caution to the wind with a French restaurant slated as our first excursion. I’m told our booking voicemail went something like this:
“Hi, I’d like to book a table for Wednesday the 16th July at 7:30pm. That’s next Wednesday, not this Wednesday. At 7:30pm. It’s for 4 people. Actually, 3 people and 1 vegetarian. I mean 3 normal people and 1 vegetarian. I mean 4 people, one of which is a vegetarian. Um. Maybe you should call me. Thanks.”
Maybe we shouldn’t go by “Olibe” after all - we’re good enough at being confusing all by ourselves. 