Has anyone tried this world beating drop from the Apple Isle?
Sullivans Cove beat out all comers at the World Whiskies Award last week, walking off with the big plastic drunken Sctosman statue for Best SIngle Malt.
I've long known of Tasmania's whisky industry. In fact a couple of years ago I was even gifted a boy's trip to Hobart by my good lady wife as a birthday present. Rolled in there with a couple of mates to sample the pub culture of Hobart, which is awesome, and to spend a day at the Lark Distillery, which was good, even great, but not awesome.
I missed Sullivan's Cove on that swing through the far southern reaches. Kind of wishing I'd laid in a few bottles. They've probably doubled in price overnight.
He puts it together on an iPad, which requires everyone to be in the room, but means less channel editing as people talk over each other. Impressive sound.
Having talked with Beeso about cheeses for the lactose intolerant, I was reminded of McIntosh Bowman's excellent 'Ask the Cheesemonger' app, which I've got on my phone but had forgotten about as it was tucked away in a food app folder.
I've pulled it back out again because if I'd just consulted the bloody thing earlier I'd have known that Thomas was fine to eat all sort of different cheese, including his fave, Parmesan.
Details for where to get your Old Persuader are up at the Stone&Wood site, along with some of the story of the beer.
The Old Persuader is The Mash Collective’s third beer release. Inspired by the transition into Summer and the preparation that inevitably entails… think, mowing that unkept lawn, cleaning the greasy barby, and pulling out the abandoned beach wear and cricket set, well this strong lager that’s gutsy but refreshing was envisioned as the friend that tells you to sit down and just relax…
The lager draws parallels with freshly mown grass, think grassy, spicy hops, scattered over a fresh malt palate with a glow of a well deserved alcohol kick. It’s the beer that gets the job done, for a person who gets the job done!
Style: Bock/ Lager hybrid, Alc/Vol 6.6%
But most importantly, this is where you can get it in a coupla days. (Tip o' the glass to W for the link).
On tap at:
Great Northern Hotel (Byron Bay) The Rails (Byron Bay) Nimbin Hotel (Nimbin) Bangalow Hotel (Bangalow) Black Coffee Lyrics (Surfers Paradise) Pig n Whistle (Riverside, Bris) Grand Central (Bris) The Villager (Bris) Cartel (Bris) Bosc (Bris) Archive (Bris) Elephant Arms (Bris) Sabotage (Bris) Urbane (Bris) The End (Bris) Tipplers Tap (Bris) The Scratch (Bris) Story Bridge Hotel (Bris) Embassy Hotel (Bris) Bitter Suite (Bris) Iceworks (Bris) Yamanto Tavern (Yamanto) Warners at the Bay (Syd) Prince of Wales (Syd) Steyne Hotel (Syd) Hart’s Pub (Syd) The Local (Syd) Yullis (Syd) Royal Albert (Syd) Petersham Bowling Club (Syd) Quarrymans (Syd) Pumphouse Bar (Syd) Forest Lodge (Syd) Clarendon Hotel (Syd) East Village (Balmain, Syd) Union Hotel (Newtown, Syd) Frankie’s Pizza (Syd) Collaroy Beach Club (Syd) The Grain Store (Syd) Station Bar (Katoomba) Albion Hotel (Newcastle) Rainbow Hotel (Melb) The Royston (Melb) Park Hotel (Melb) Kelly’s Bar & Kitchen (Melb) Beer Deluxe (CBD Melb) Terminus Hotel (Melb) Great Northern (Melb) Cookie (Melb) Beer Deluxe (Hawthorn Melb) Young & Jacksons (Melb) Brother Burger (Melb) Prince Albert Hotel (Melb) Village Melbourne (Melb) Bettenays (Melb)
In bottles at:
Great Northern Hotel (Byron Bay) The Cellar (Byron Bay) Beach Hotel (Byron Bay) Ocean Shores General Store (Ocean Shores) Taphouse (Kingscliff) Black Coffee Lyrics (Surfers Paradise) Lennox Hotel (Lennox Heads) Justin Lane (Burleigh Heads) Archive (Bris) Lock n Load (Bris) Cardigan Bar (Bris) Story Bridge Hotel (Bris) Vines (Cleveland) Public Bar (Bris) Aquila (Bris) Yamanto Tavern (Yamanto) Bitter Suite (Bris) The Scratch (Bris) Grand Central Hotel (Bris) Chalk n Cheese (Bris) Alliance Hotel (Bris) Stewart Barracks (Bris) Archive (Bris) Foxy Bean (Bris) Kerbside (Bris) Brew Cafe (Bris) Story Bridge Hotel (Bris) Elephant Arms (Bris) Melbourne Hotel (Bris) Craft Retail (Redhill) Harry Brown (Yamanto + Eatons) Camperdown Cellars (Syd) Porters (Syd) Beer Cartel (Syd) Longueville Hotel (Syd) Steyne Hotel (Syd) Steve’s Cool Breeze (Syd) Firestation Hotel (Syd) Earls Juke Joint (Syd) 465 The Avenue (Syd) Bondi Beach Cellars (Syd) David’s Cellars (Syd) Black Penny (Syd) Cromer Cellars (Syd) Oak Barrell (Syd) S+P Liquor (Syd) Treehouse Hotel (Syd) Bottle’O (Wickham) Bottle’O (Lampton) Prince of Wales (Newcastle) Plonk (ACT) Warners at the Bay (Newcastle) Purvis (Melb) Caufield Cellars (Melb) Acland Cellars (Melb) Blackhearts & Sparrows (Melb) Inkerman Hotel (Melb) Beer Deluxe CBD (Melb) McCoppins Fitzroy (Melb) Valley Cellar Door (Melb)
"WHO WANTS SOME GODDAMN DESSERT?" asks Thug Kitchen. "Frozen bananas are legit treats that can make you feel like you’re at the boardwalk even if you’re just standing in front of an oscillating fan in your apartment. USE YOUR IMAGINATION MOTHERFUCKER. Make some of these with the kids, they love that shit."
8 Responses to ‘Thug Kitchen, my new favorite cooking blog’
Hell of a day, today. Three thousand word deadline. School commitments. After school commitments. Unexpectedly sick kid. Like a Flinthart Day, but without the sangfroid.
Lunchtime found me hightailing it across the city to drop a sick kid off to mum so I could get to the Fathers Day school function for Kid #2 because nobody wants be that That Guy who leaves the kid standing there on his lonesome at the father-son gig.
So I dropped kid one, skipped the offer of a quick lunch because its never that quick in the city, pointed the Swedish battle wagon at the south side of the river and laid pedal to metal. There was a sausage sizzle on at the school, but I'd be turning up late – to a Father-Son sausage sizzle – and did not fancy my chances of even hoovering up some meat scraps and stray grease from the hot plate.
Four hundred dads. Free snags. You do the math.
At the back of my mind were all the unwritten words on my feature article and the sudden expiration of my security certificate for the Fairfax online publishing system one minute ( yes, one exact minute) after the SMH decided to run my blog on the front page.
And hunger. Hunger was also on my mind. Then I remembered a new place that'd opened up at the Gabba near to my destination. The Bakers Arms, a swish looking bakery which always seemed crowded. Crowded was fine. I wasn't going to sit down. I just needed to pick up a pie and get the hell out. How hard could that be? At a fucking bakery?
I secured a park right out the front and the pies were sitting there when I rolled in. As if Fate was setting herself to mock me. She's a vicious bitch, that Fate.
I ordered my pie and I must admit that even I was a little taken aback at the demand for $8.90 which followed. But this was not a sausage rolls and finger buns kind of bakery. This place had class. And $8.90 pies to prove it.
And then I settled in to wait for my pie. The Bakers Arms was pleasingly busy, but not so busy that I expected to wait more than four or five minutes. There seemed to be a fair turn over of meals heading out to the tables, and the take away line was not so long as to give rise to concern. Not until five minutes passed. Then ten. Then other take away orders began to appear before mine. Then someone dropped a hundred forks on the floor. And I was looking at my watch thinking I gotta go I gotta go I gotta go. But I waited a little longer. Fifteen minutes. A couple of salads and fucking chai soy lattes were served up. Allow me to reiterate. A couple of salads and fucking chai soy lattes! In a fucking bakery that couldn't get my goddamned pie to me without dropping a hundred forks.
Where was my fucking pie? In the outer wastes of the arse end of Absurdistan, that's where.
And then, eighteen minutes after I had first enquired as to whether I might place within my possession, and then my rumbling tummy, one very expensive pie, I saw the guy who'd dropped the hundred forks take an icy cold specimen from the chilled cabinet and line it up for microwaving. Even that didnt bother me. I just wanted my damn pie, nuked or not.
But it was lined up behind other pies, and possibly some sort of quiche, and that was it, Bakers Arms and I were done.
I turned to the woman next me, who looked like she too was in need of a pie, and I said "Madam, take mine. I can tarry no longer".
And it was all right. This is a remarkable thing for me to write because I have always imagined I hated gin after slamming down a glass which I thought to be water on the deck of the student club at UQ about thirty years ago.
A flat, warm glass of gin undoubtedly contaminated with somebody's backwash.
I have never gone back there again. Even the smell of it was enough to lock up my throat. I made the same mistake a few weeks ago in Sydney, but a happier mistake this time. A glass of 'water' which I sipped and realised with a slight shock was not water.
But it was properly chilled Tanqueray, served on ice before dinner at Monopole, and I had but a sip, which led to another sip and eventually to another glass. A lucky thing really, because dinner was being shouted by Tanqueray as sponsors of the Eat-Drink-Design Awards; the reason I was in town.
The food was awesome and the company outstanding. You forget sometimes on Planet Parenthood how much fun you can have at a table full of strangers with whom you might share only one or two interests beyond the usual round of conversation about school and kids and driving kids to school and things kids do before and after school. My fellow diners and judges were even kind enough to organize a little birthday treat for me which I noted at the time put them streets ahead of anyone here.
The standout memory, besides the pork ribs pictured left, was the gin and tonic I drank, first unwittingly and then enthusiastically. Makes me wonder I perhaps it's time to settle my differences with my old foe tequila as well.