Whenever I take a blog hiatus, which often and usually unprecedented, returning washes the same feelings of familiarity and loss as that time we drove past an old house I used to live in. I never went inside but in my head I can the keys rattle on the keychain as the door is unlocked. I know which nerves on the balls of my feet tingle as I tiptoe across the cool marble. I saw with my heart where the giant round dining table stood with the bowl of fake flowers and loose change positioned in the middle, even if my eyes could not.
I lament the loss not of the organ that never uttered a tune past the millenium, not the air conditioning that dripped water on the inside of the room, not the dog we named after Richie Rich who ran away. It’s a loss within me, and as much as I want it back I know it’s beyond my reach. Perhaps it’s innocence lost, great power that comes with great responsibility or just purely the fact that we have to keep moving whether its forwards or sideways, we never stand still. So I’m probably regressing in my own roundabout way since I’m not really sure where I’m headed. But this cheap sushi conveyor belt isn’t stopping so I might as well own a map. Even if getting one involves writing shitty restaurant reviews I don’t care about.
I’ve been eyeing Mad Spuds ever since Suze wrote about it because I have major midnight food envy (that’s usually the time I happen to be reading her blog) and the feeling sticks with me
5ever forever. I finally got some minions to come try it with me, fiendishly telling them to meet me at Central without them knowing the length of the trek ahead. Which I guess isn’t really too far considering how many times I’ve trapezed to Bourke St Bakery from the very same starting point but when you’re hungry it always feels like food is dancing just beyond your reach.
I only noticed the error of my already mediocre iPhoneography ways after Tony started demolishing the Little Piggy, that is that this looks more like a huge serving of their famous seven seed coleslaw with a side baked spud, crispy bacon strips, feta, mozzarella, cheddar and sour cream. The portions in real life are huge but Tony being the supermassive black hole that he is barely full though he acknowledges the deliciousness of his menu option.
Tarang has gotten the Egg in a Spud, probably the cutest sounding choice on the menu. Was anyone else imagining a cradle made from a spud holding a little egg in it? Maybe not, and definitely not the chef because what comes out looks a lot better. Tarang thoroughly enjoys the toasted quinoa that tops it while Tony and I steal all the sweet potato crisps.
So why the hell did I drag my friends to Mad Spuds only to order something that not only is not a spud but quite possibly the most boring thing on the menu (except for the organic fruit and nut toast but you don’t make friends with organic fruit and nut toast)? I love my avocado and I kind of expected massive chunks of avocado on both pieces of toast especially considering how much I paid for it + the poached egg. A tad disappointing but I can’t say I wasn’t warned against not ordering a spud but the heart wants what it wants, even if it can’t have it.