Saturday is always the hardest day for me to blog. I’ll get home at whatever hour, look at the time and realise “crap! Post not done!” But as of my writing this it is still 11:39pm on the 2nd of April, Melbourne Eastern Standard Time. So yeah, take that challenge.
And being in Melbourne, in the land down under, one of the greatest things this great wide and partly-dry country of ours has to offer, which starts with the letter B, and is a revered tradition as much as any holy day, even though it is performed much more than one, is the great Australian Barbie. Mate.
No, not barbie, as in the Mattel doll. I’m talking barbie, as in “throw a shrimp on one” kind, even though we don’t do shrimp, we do prawns. For any non-Australians taking notes. True story.
Today we actually went to my cousin’s place, as a belated birthday visit, and were very fortunate to be received with this custom. There is nothing more social, more satisfying, more serene, than to be standing around a barbeque on a late, slightly warm Saturday afternoon, watching the smoke rising from the slabs of gargantuan meat sizzling on the grill, filling the air with delicious aroma, and then having the luxury of ‘pecking’ at this meat as it comes off the grill, like as we would say in our native tongue “mezze,” or as the Spaniards would say “tapas.”
Aussie custom, common as the cold, never grows old.