Root Beer Anybody?
It will be very hard for you to find Root Beer here in Australia unless you go to a special import/USA store that they have around some places. You will find sarsaparilla though, but sarsaparilla really never cut it anywhere as a substitute as it generally has a strange aftertaste am I wrong? Also, being that the most popular sarsaparilla here is made by Bundaberg, a company in Queensland that has similarly awful tasting rum, you can’t compare it to A&W, I.C.B, Dads, or Barqs. “So why no Root Beer?” You ask in the wonderment of incorrect English. The reason I accidentally found out a few months into my stay here is because the word “root” here and in the UK refers to sexual intercourse. You therefore don’t “root for your favorite sports team”, why that’s just crass, you instead “barrack for your favourite sports club”.
Once I was talking about this magical drink called “root beer” to a co-worker and he slyly said, “Isn’t all beer root beer?” And that is when it clicked in this yanks head that we’re not in Kansas anymore. You can naturally draw the conclusion that a “root beer float” is something that puzzles the average Australians dirty mind as well and when I proceed to say, “Oh they’re delicious!” They just sort of nod and gin, but then frown, but then grin again. When I explain to those who have actually had root beer, they think the idea of vanilla ice cream and cough medicine sounds disgusting. I’m craving one right now all the same.
The Australian equivalent to the American Root Beer is Ginger Beer. I know that some of you American readers think you have had Ginger Beer in the US before and probably wanted to vomit it out of your nose like I did, but truth be told, it’s actually much different here and tastes a lot better. I’m not saying its better than root beer, but it’s nice on a hot summer day. I have had a few of my Aussie friends try Root Beers before and to most of them it’s the American Vegemite experience. It tastes like bad medicine and is not something they’re accustomed to. Sarsaparilla isn’t very popular for that matter either, but I guess if you are an American that must have a fix, it’s your closest solution.
So I’m up here in Brisbane , minding my own business and what do I find walking through the Myers shopping Centre on a Friday night? Sunshine Kebabs! Bless the Queen there it was! After calming myself down, taking a deep breath, and counting to 10, I approached the nice Asian fellow at the counter and through a gushing grin asked him for a mixed kebab with sour cream and hot chili sauce. Now before you get too excited I’m going to jump to the disappointing part, it wasn’t very good. I am not sure if its Queensland ’s warm weather or high population of Asians, but this Sunshine Kebabs missed the mark. I am going to email the company and propose to them the idea of sending the *Kebab Nazi in St Kilda to the various SK’s around to show them the proper way to make a kebab. Allowing the customer to decide what they want is the first thing he needs to disband. In Brisbane all the kebabs are pressed in a heating press making them hot and toasty. That may sound yummy to you but it killed the freshness to me. They put too much meat from their vertical rotating meat cookers as well which dominates the taste causing you to walk away feeling like a carnivorous freak. I took it on myself to give Brisbane ’s kebab industry the benefit of the doubt. After a week of digesting the 2 pounds of lamb and chicken flesh I consumed that afternoon another Friday rolled around and at lunch time I hit the streets in search for the perfect kebab.
It’s been 8 days now and my flu is still going strong. It’s a champion of a cold and I’m proud to call it mine. What strength! What determination! I have a feeling I will remember this one for a long, long time and I’ll be sorry to see it go. It was a cold and rainy day today and it didn’t make an exception for me on my walk home from work. I’ve been extremely hungry the past 2 days and I remember seeing a mom on TV or movie once say that you need to feed a cold. So tonight I went to Covina’s, a Spanish Tappas and Pasta place on Fitzroy Street and had myself some pasta. After leaving I still had some room in my belly so I figured I would walk down and get myself some desert. Where else would be better than Sunshine Kebabs!
If there is one good thing I’ve just discovered about having a cold in the wonderful land of Oz, it’s Butter-Menthol by the Australia-New Zealand division of Nestle. The menthol is essentially the oil of peppermint leaf and the butter is referring to butterscotch (butter, brown sugar, syrup, vanilla, and scotch). Everybody loves butterscotch but I never would have thought of a butterscotch throat lozenge. Why not? It’s a magical mixture. I spied on some Aussies the other day who were taking them when they were getting sick and I thought it looked gross. This week I have been fighting the flu so tonight I broke down and got me some. Needless to say I was magically whisked away into the mystical fun world of medicinal butterscotch. I’m not sure it actually did anything for my cold, but I can’t wait to get sick again all the same.
I don’t meen to beat a dead horse, (mmm horse kebab?) I’m just throwing it out there. I guess it has been done before but it sounds extremely good. It is basically be a burrito but with a pita, guacamole, salsa (Lilly’s in California preferably thank you) saffron rice, jalapeños, sour cream and the rest of your kebab meat and garnish. Lamb and chicken I think. Mmmmm! While we’re at it, how about a breakfast kebab, only here they’ll call it a brekkie kebab. Fried pork, fried egg, lettuce, tomato, onions (light), and the sour cream and chilli sauce. I want one now!
Mexican food in Australia is non existent for the most part. They have “Taco Bills” here in Melbourne which is in no way affiliated with Taco Bell and from what I am told is really terrible. In Queensland they have Montezuma’s, which I just don’t have the heart to tell anyone what the reference really means but likewise, from what I am told, it’s accurate. There is a chain called BBNT (Burgers Burritos Nachos Tacos) which I fancy but it is way below even Taco Bell in quality, but a man starving for Mexican will eat meal worm tacos if there is no other substitute. The aborigines do this actually but they are big meaty worms called Witchetty Grubs. I’m told they taste like the earth. I can’t wait to try one. And yes, I will try one. Hey! Witchetty Kebab! Doesn’t the girl in this picture look like an aboriginal Olsen Twin?
Oh, and Sunshine Kebab has a website as I guess its a chain.
I’m currently having an intense love affair with kebabs. It all started last Monday when my mate, his partner, and I were “walking” to a pub after a delightful evening at the Belgium Beer Garden on St Kilda Road in celebration of the game we have been working on submitting to Nintendo. The 3 bowls of chips and mayonnaise we had didn’t do the trick and so we were growing hungry. I am not sure what street we were on, it may have been High Street, but lo and behold there was a kebabery right before us. A kebab (I believe its spelled kabab in the US) refers to a variety of meat dishes in the Middle East but is thought to be of Persian (Iranian) originality. (کباب) I know that will anger my Egyptian and Turkish readers (you know who you are) but that is what my extensive research has told me. There are several kinds of kebabs. Shish kebab (skewerd), Doner kebab (rotated meat), Chelow kebab (basic Iranian meat with steamed rice), and Kathi kebab (Indian tandoor kebab). The kebab I am talking about though is the souvlaki (Greek Σουβλάκι) of kebabs which basically means fried meat wrapped with lettuce and sauce in a pita like wrap. Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that the kebab I proceeded to eat this alleged night changed me into a new man. I ate it like a rabid dingo in heat and once finished with mine I proceeded in eating, hands free have you, the remains of my mates partners kebab. It was savage and beautiful like new love can often be. Like a werewolf waking up the next day to the realization of what he (or she, you know who you are girls) did the previous night, I looked down at my jacket in horror to see it covered in the splattered blood of the kebabs I savagely tore apart the night before.
