Taste
The Get On The Blandwagon! blogmeet dinner was a great success. We were eight in all: me, The Flatmate, TroyG, Matt Jarvis, An9ie, Jaymez, Shelley and Kim, and one couldn't ask for a more delightful group of people with whom to spend an evening.
Well, I guess one could ask, technically, but unless one's fairy godmother owed one bigtime I'm pretty sure that one wouldn't get jack squat.
I did my best to ensure that it was a memorable feast, which sadly meant that I had to jettison the Tripe Surprise. We started with pre-dinner aperitifs on the deck (the classic Americano - one part campari, one part sweet vermouth, top up with soda water and an orange twist), then proceeded inside once everyone’s tastebuds were suitably anaesthetized.
For entrée, we had individual goats cheese and artichoke tarts with a garden salad, served with a crisp new 2008 Eaglehawk chardonnay.
For main, we had Moroccan-spiced lamb with pear, accompanied by cous cous, brocollini and asparagus, served with a 2003 Garnacha dry grown Grenache as soft and billowy as vintage cotton sheets.
For dessert, dark Lindt chocolate and Cointreau cake with white chocolate marscapone, served with a delicious 2007 Brown Brothers Moscato – the dizzy blonde of dessert wines.
We then retired to the lounge for coffee and port, and to discuss mutual interests.
Oddly enough, though, blogging didn’t really come up in conversation. Travel, yes. Modern art, yes. Poledancing, yes. Cow porn, yes. But very little blogging. Even so, as you might imagine, with a number of people who spend a lot of time on the internet in the one room, I occasionally had to redirect the conversation with a subtle feint.
First commenter: How would a bull even go about masturbating?
Second commenter: Yes, don’t they have cloven hooves?
Me: WELL HEY, WHAT ABOUT THE WISTERIA THEN? ISN’T IT GROWING WELL?
In the course of the evening we learned many other interesting things. We learnt that one of us speaks five languages. Another wants to kill every horse on the planet. Another is troubled by the hygiene implications of using your mouth to put money in a stripper’s G-string. And of course I spoke at considerable length and with great passion on the work of mid-century exploitation filmmakers, as is my wont, at least until I was unaccountably smacked in the face with a well-aimed occasional table.
For my part I’d be very pleased to do the whole blogmeet dinner thing again. I’ll just be sure to don a helmet around fifteen minutes into my usual Coleman Francis tirade.
Well, I guess one could ask, technically, but unless one's fairy godmother owed one bigtime I'm pretty sure that one wouldn't get jack squat.
I did my best to ensure that it was a memorable feast, which sadly meant that I had to jettison the Tripe Surprise. We started with pre-dinner aperitifs on the deck (the classic Americano - one part campari, one part sweet vermouth, top up with soda water and an orange twist), then proceeded inside once everyone’s tastebuds were suitably anaesthetized.
For entrée, we had individual goats cheese and artichoke tarts with a garden salad, served with a crisp new 2008 Eaglehawk chardonnay.
For main, we had Moroccan-spiced lamb with pear, accompanied by cous cous, brocollini and asparagus, served with a 2003 Garnacha dry grown Grenache as soft and billowy as vintage cotton sheets.
For dessert, dark Lindt chocolate and Cointreau cake with white chocolate marscapone, served with a delicious 2007 Brown Brothers Moscato – the dizzy blonde of dessert wines.
We then retired to the lounge for coffee and port, and to discuss mutual interests.
Oddly enough, though, blogging didn’t really come up in conversation. Travel, yes. Modern art, yes. Poledancing, yes. Cow porn, yes. But very little blogging. Even so, as you might imagine, with a number of people who spend a lot of time on the internet in the one room, I occasionally had to redirect the conversation with a subtle feint.
First commenter: How would a bull even go about masturbating?
Second commenter: Yes, don’t they have cloven hooves?
Me: WELL HEY, WHAT ABOUT THE WISTERIA THEN? ISN’T IT GROWING WELL?
In the course of the evening we learned many other interesting things. We learnt that one of us speaks five languages. Another wants to kill every horse on the planet. Another is troubled by the hygiene implications of using your mouth to put money in a stripper’s G-string. And of course I spoke at considerable length and with great passion on the work of mid-century exploitation filmmakers, as is my wont, at least until I was unaccountably smacked in the face with a well-aimed occasional table.
For my part I’d be very pleased to do the whole blogmeet dinner thing again. I’ll just be sure to don a helmet around fifteen minutes into my usual Coleman Francis tirade.
posted by Blandwagon at 11:33 PM
6 Comments:
Thank for a wonderful evening - *wonderful* food, great company, amusing conversation.
Inspiring!
Mysteriously the table was set for just the right number of guests. Incredibly, just the right amount of food was prepared. All this despite a seemingly random invitation posted on the internet. Coincidence, or was this evidence of some pre-ordained moment in history? Some sinister force which brought this group of people together to wreak havoc on the population of Perth? Only time will tell!
Thanks for the fantastic meal, Blanders, we had a great evening! Fortunately I'm not a psychopath or I would so be plotting to steal your abode (there are so many cool things in there, people! The photos do not begin to touch it) in a Talented Mr Ripley kinda way.
Yes indeed, a lovely evening all round. Thanks so much :D
Couldn't have had a better meal in a restaurant. And it's good to know we found a home for that homeless *burp* animal.
Excellent night was had by all I think.
Sorry I couldn't make it, the Copenhagen-Mumbai bus was late and I missed my connection in Tehran so I had to wait for the next camel convoy to Ulan Bator and wait for three days there to take the next airship to Timor Leste. So understandably, I didn't bother.
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