A BEER AND A pie at the football was once the Australian norm and tradition, with sausage sizzle as the alternative and substitute for local matches. But now we, in both respect to multiculturalism and market service to gentrified crowds, do better. I went to see Sydney FC defeat Jeonbuk FC in the Asian Champions League (2) at Moore Park Stadium, and ate salsipão with my craft beer on tap. My goodness what a world of glorious sport we live in. True to my dinner, Diego Costa scored.

• Chorizo, barbecued and chopped up
• Chimichurri
• Cherry tomatoes
• Fried onion

THE BLOG HAS A default theme for now, by popular demand.

Jacob Weisberg, The Lucky One (NY Review of Books)

On screen and facing the public, he was a conviction politician. But behind the scenes—as with the arms for hostages trading—the bazaar was open for business.

Ronald Reagan has been a central figure in my reading lately. Rick Perlstein's Reaganland, and the above review of Max Boot's biography, which I think I'll get to soon. Reagan seems to be a central figure also in our current affairs; a world-historical reactionary with a sunny show on his face of American virtue---in which he fully believed---covering over a core of pragmatic transactionism. Reagan's America is the one that endures into the post-Cold War: sunny in speech, dirty in acts, religious and sordid, a dynamic culture in a gerontocratic and ossified political system.

Like everyone else I have been shocked at the United States' rush under its current President to withdraw from its commitments and alliances. Call it a pair to the moral shock of the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, a moment of sheer clarity, about what the world is and what Australia's part in it is (very little). I don't think we're ever going to see those submarines, no matter what promises are on paper. But the shock is I think less at the unexpectedness than from, in the philosopher's phrase, being at last compelled to face, in sober senses, the real conditions of American realism and transactionalism in the way it treats other countries and its friends.

Reagan's habit of telling stories about American exceptional virtue was based on genuine belief. His practice of acting according to interests, rather than values, was what made him significant. This present moment was always there and the shock of American cynicism is just our own recognition---we knew all along.

A HAPPIER BLOG ENTRY with no unpleasant surprises, nor native animals. This is simply the chilli recipe. You will need to light a camp fire. Begin at 3pm to 4pm: this is a key element to the process. First, let the fire get hot, then cool down a bit so it's plenty of coals and a little bit of flame, not too much. Warm up your camp oven or cookpot.

• A big chunk of beef, say 400g or so, cut into chunks. Chuck or rump steak. Leave the fat on.
• Flour
• A 400gm tin of diced tomatoes
• Cayenne pepper or chilli powder
• An onion
• Lots of garlic
• Spoonful of chipotle
• Frijoles negros or beans or some kind of beans. If you want to. If you don't you don't have to. Don't overthink this
• Fresh chilli
• Oil
• Cinnamon
• Oregano
• Chicken or vegetable stock to fill to nearly the top of the pot.

To serve:

• Sour cream
• Tortillas
• Salsa with avocado, cherry tomatoes, some of the fresh chilli,
• Lime

Toss the diced beef in flour and cayenne pepper. Brown each of the bits in batches. Now fry some onion, the garlic, then once they're brown, add the tomato, beans (see my note), chilli, the chipotle, and the spices. Now this is the important part: set a timer to stir it every 40 minutes adding liquid to stop it drying out. Open a tin of beer. Cook for three to four hours or until the meat falls apart. Serve with heaps of sour cream and the salsa. By the time you have finished the sun has gone down and it is dinner time.

Is this authentic? It is not. Notoriously Australia is the country where Mexican food goes to be transmutated beyond recognition. This is probably barely even recognisable as Tex-Mex. I take my own part in this process and repeat. Do not overthink this.

COOKING WHEN CAMPING INTRODUCES certain challenges. You're away from your usual kitchen, you have to improvise with less, it's hot or cold or maybe rainy, you have to manage a fire, and every now and then, if you're in Australia, a large lace monitor will wander through like the bully of the town, to a Morricone whistle. (You'll have to provide the ocarina yourself).

This pictured animal wandered up to us on the weekend just as we were sitting with cups of coffee in the morning sun. Hey, mate, I said, got nothing for you; but the lizard came on. When I got up, waved my hands in the air, and made a bit of noise, it showed itself as an unafraid-of-humans campground bandit, taking a few aggressive steps at me, and hissing with its mouth open. Fine, son, I said, you go for it. I'm not about to fight a metre-and-a-half long lizard with claws and statutory protection. There's no angle in it.

We're not beginners at camping cooking. All our food is stored in click-locking plastic tubs, the garbage is stored in a bin inside the car, scraps get cleaned up. So all the lizard could do was wander around bashing things and trying to knock over food-smelling objects, which it did for a good ten minutes, before it found the only thing we'd left out: the washing up bucket, with two steel cups, a chopping board, and a little utility knife, a bit bigger than a paring knife.

This lizard reached in to the bucket, and came up with the plastic handled knife, with a 6-7cm blade, grinning in its mouth for all the world like Blackbeard the pirate about to board. And for a few steps it wandered about our campsite with the knife in its teeth, while we wondered how on earth you deal with a knife-wielding lizard. (For the record: shouting 'hey, no, stop' is ineffective). Finally, while I stared at it open mouthed, it opened its jaw wider, gulped, and the whole knife disappeared, handle first, down the hatch. At which point it sauntered off into the scrub.

What on earth do you do at that? I really like lizards. This is obviously not going to be good for the animal in the medium term and probably the very short term. Two days later I'm still in a bit of shock about it. It's just one of those completely unexpected and unpleasant things you witness every now and then, that have absolutely no meaning.

The end. No moral.

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