On Friday morning, my parents and I bade a temporary farewell to Canberra and began the five-hour drive to Rutherglen, where we would meet my brother and his girlfriend for a weekend of wine, wine, funtimes, and more wine.
En route, we paused twice to Stop, Revive, Survive. In our family, we interpret “revive” as “eat”, and thus we descended upon Long Track Pantry in Jugiong for morning tea and the Submarine Café in Holbrook for lunch.
Holiday escapes should always begin with something sweet. (Continue with, conclude with, and be remembered with.) To accompany our much-needed coffees, my parents and I shared the Date, Chocolate, and Almond Torte. This torte skewed to the very chocolate-y and, while it was certainly a pleasant counter to my long black, I much prefer my own chewy-crispy-nutty chocolate, date, and almond meringue torte.
After driving for another hour with me controlling our trip’s soundtrack via my mother’s iPod (Brick, The Wings of an Eagle, Mad World, It’s Only a Paper Moon, Rocky Raccoon, Hallelujah I Love Her So, my version of Send In The Clowns, Eagle Rock, and Respect, just to name a few), we arrived at Holbrook’s submarine.
At Holbrook’s Submarine Café, I found myself attacked by far more bacon than I’m capable of dealing with, but intrigued by the grilled-cheese croutons and freshness of the Caesar Salad itself. A few more hours in the car saw us arrive at Rutherglen, where Miss Gulch clearly stores her spare bicycles. (Dun-dun-ah-dun-nah-nah!)
At the Motel Woongarra, we met up with my brother and his gorgeous and lovely American girlfriend. She very generously brought me much chocolate from the U.S., and thereby won a spot in my heart forever. We wandered over to the Tuileries Wine Bar, at which point I learnt that drinking a full glass of sparkling wine when you’re on antibiotics and usually become tipsy on half a glass anyway is a quick path to much, much giggliness.
Dear Tuileries Café Waiter: I apologise for spending so much time trying to make you understand how deeply I love vegetables. I knew not what I spoke.
We ended the night with several epic Boggle matches back at the hotel which, for the first time in history, I didn’t win. Because I’m such a gracious loser, I congratulated the winners by mentioning my antibiotics and alcohol intake and proclaiming:
“You drugged me so you could beat me!”
Here’s hoping no one outside our hotel room heard me say that.
Next up: Day Two, in all its sweet and fluffy glory.