June 6th 2020
The Outfit
First things first when preparing to exit the gilded cage to a night of possibilities, formerly know as Saturday: what to wear?
Having spent two months sans bra in flannelette pyjama pants and Ugg boots, comfort is high on the list. (Really, a bra? Can we perhaps…? Get a grip. Wearing a bra is part of life. It’s what you used to do every single day).
I then, seemingly baffled by what one wears when dining OUT, throw on the 70s like top with a bat sleeve that ties under the bosoms (uncharacteristically held in place by underwire) with a high-waisted black silk skirt. Someone take this girl out on the town!
My very punctual friend had already arrived for pre-dinner Champs. Pre fuelling, as you of course know and practice religiously, is ALWAYS a good idea but after homeiso, it is in fact a necessity. You will soon re-learn the vast difference between a home “glass of wine” and a restaurant pour.
Diligently sipping my flute of pink Mumm, while still in the cosy confines of the recliner, all strapped up like prized mutton dressed as lamb, I realize very quickly – I can’t do this. I’m breathtakingly uncomfortable and I haven’t even started the deluxe banquet. Must Change.
“We’re leaving in 5mins,” announces the timekeeper. I take my chances. Releasing my body from the tights, the top, the skirt…I breathe out with relief. Wow! That was suffocating. How will I ever get used to clothes again? They’re so restrictive.
Anyway. Think. Quickly: What can I wear that still looks “good” but feels like pyjamas? Finally I put on a sateen top/dress over velvet pants that are too big for me. Heaven. The texture of the trousers tricks my mind into believing that I’m still wearing my velour trackies (happy). Middle aged …but oh so comfy. A scarf around the old neck and we are cooking with gas.
En Voyage
Getting off the ferry after marvelling at the beauty of Sydney, it is abundantly clear – this city is still a ghost town. Sad. The trams are up and running, and the city looks primed for an absolute cracker of a Vivid Festival, but instead, the streets echo with what could have been. The old Customs House that at this moment should be illuminated with brilliant, moving 3D light systems of colour and wonder, is just its 176-year-old sandstone self on this June evening.
The lanterns in the laneway normally lit with a warm light over the cheerful clamour of diners…hang lifeless.
We arrive at the restaurant. There is sanitized stillness to the air. It’s an early sitting, so the vibe is still Covid-19. Fortunately, the wait staff are not serving us with masks. That would be the ultimate vibe killer. That would confirm my Saturday night in pyjamas for the rest of the year for sure. Ditto to presenting hand sanitizer at the table like it’s a bottle of Grand Cru. But thankfully, none of these atrocities happened.
The First Cocktail
As I am sliding into the best position of the booth, I am literally grabbing the drinks menu. It is time to order our first non-homiso beverage. The excitement is palpable. Of course, I am going to go all out and get a cocktail. Hello! Ordering over-priced drinks never gets old.
And now is where the pre-fuelling really comes into play, because when you spend 22 dollars on a martini glass of delightfully mixed booze, you need that concoction to reach the rim of said glass. It’s just a basic life principle. As I am already a glass half empty kind of gal, when I was presented with a ¾ full 22 dollar cocktail, I suppressed the urge to be a peasant and say: “I think you left half of it in the bottle.” Queue awkward laughter, then resentful silence.
The Wine
After the to-and-froing over the wine-list (shall we just get the mid entry priced Chards?) we predictably throw the towel in and order the most expensive Chardonnay. The waiter commends us for our fine choice. He pours the golden goodness into large wine glasses as we watch with pure joy, listening attentively as he tells us about the vineyard in Queenstown where this beautiful bottle originated (amazing, I did not know that). We swirl, we sniff and after a pretentious second, take our first gulp. Oh…absolutely. Incredible finish. Oaky but not too oaky like its from 1985 (should be at this price). Is that citrus, AND dark chocolate dipped apricots? This 30-dollar bottle of Chardonnay for 120 dollars is really something. Could drink it all night, if in fact if all of us were employed.
The Meal
Having food brought to you hot, on an actual plate by someone else, as you try not to inhale the small amount of wine you’ve left in the oversized wine glass, is really quite a thrill. The incredible aromas, the mere fact that you won’t be packing a dishwasher tonight or scrubbing a fry-pan – amazing. And it’s now that you will be patting yourself on the back for wearing a pyjama-like ensemble. Bravo!
The Bill
Ouch! I think we have identified why we don’t own our own home. And it’s certainly not the smashed avo brunches. But really, all the money we’ve saved in homeiso… we should’ve bought that second bottle of Chards!
Welcome back to dinner out with friends – one of life’s many joys.