The origin of

The sun was out in full force this morning in Bondi, I headed over to Tamarama for a wonderful yoga class -- even without sitting at a computer full-time, yoga still feels so good to stretch everything out. After class, I headed on the path back over to Bondi. Loads of people were out sunbathing and I was reminded that the girls here like to go topless. I think my Midwestern modesty will keep me topped when I head to the beach. I haven't gone swimming or sunbathing yet, it's been hot enough a couple of days (especially Sunday which was absolutely perfect and glorious), but I remember the water being very cold at the end of summer last year, so I think it will take me a bit to take a dip. Sunbathing, is probably not far off in the future, tho.

Now, I have received a few comments/questions from you, dear readers, and as I walked along the path, I felt that today was a good day to introduce y'all to the actual chunkytoast. Because, yes, it does exist! When I first came to Oz last winter, I went to Baristas and on the menu was something called chunkytoast, and I was intrigued. Upon my return to work in NY, I regaled my breakfast/lunch pal-for-all-times, Sam, with the wonder of chunkytoast. We were in the midst of a Bread Market morning toast phase, and chunkytoast was something to daydream about --with its super-duper thickness and choice of spreads.

So, as you can see from above, chunkytoast is sort of like two pieces of bread as one. I'm sure you can get vegemite as a spread, but jam and butter were fine for me, thanks. It was a lovely late morning flat white, chunkytoast, view of ocean respite...til a surprise shower came upon Bondi. Oh my, those poor topless girls on the beach.

Next up, a loyal reader in Boston, MA wrote in requesting pictures of any exotic produce. I happen to live a few blocks away from the Fruitologist, a vibrant market of all sorts of produce. I stopped in there this afternoon to do some reconnaissance, and I can't say I found anything completely foreign. There is actual passion fruit, very strange looking squashes (they call everything in the squash family "pumpkin" of some kind), and something called Paw-Paws. I might not be terribly well-versed in my knowledge of topical-esque fruit, but this at least might not be something we see everyday at Gristedes.

And, on a final and very important note -- Saturday night, Haydn introduced me to the wonder of Clem's Chicken. Comfort food at its best, most filling, and swimming in butter. We went to Newtown and got a roasted chicken, pumpkin, coleslaw, and these amazing little potatoes. The potatoes were melon-ball sized, and smothered in buttery, creamy, goodness. I'm not really sure what to call them except amazing. I know one girl from Brooklyn who would probably stop there every night if it was at her F train stop...

Other news and notes from Oz: the ARIAs were on Sunday (Aus version of Grammys) and Haydn went as my correspondent, but didn't seem to stay at the actual ceremony very long. He was, however, at the after-party early enough to hear the speech to the event staff about food and health standards, heh heh. Sounds like everyone had a great time, and Missy Higgins was the big, big winner, as was young Ben Lee whose single Catch the Disease is really, really, ah, catch-y.

And, with that novella of a post...til next time.
TC