PSEUDOCYCLICAL TIME IS ASSOCIATED WITH the consumption of modern economic survival—the augmented survival in which everyday experience is cut off from decisionmaking and subjected no longer to the natural order, but to the pseudo-nature created by alienated labor. It is thus quite natural that it echoes the old cyclical rhythm that governed survival in preindustrial societies, incorporating the natural vestiges of cyclical time while generating new variants: day and night, work and weekend, periodic vacations.1
So said Guy Debord about the rules governing when one can and cannot eat particular meals. Michael Douglas’s character D-FENS, the classically alienated man, transformed by industry and excluded from power and the communal experience of history, made a similar declaration.
Wherever and whenever there are backpackers, shift workers and the unemployed, the three groups of people for whom time means the least to their stomachs, you will find people around to provide them with the necessities of breakfast.
When she or he tumbles out of Sydney airport, having dealt in succession with with an intercontinental flight, with Customs, Quarantine, Immigration and/or the Federal Police, the duty free shop, and Sydney’s shameless and unscrupulous taxi drivers, your typical British woman or man of leisure wants a full greasy North England horror show. Sausages, bacon, baked beans, chips, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms as “greens”, bread and butter, brown sauce. Welcome to Kings Cross, pommy.
When she or he finally clocks off her or his shift, having dealt with the new unfamiliar roster, the likelihood of few facilities in the office or on the site, sped-up production and internalised pressure to reduce breaks, your ordinary casual worker wants nothing more than a bacon and egg roll with barbecue sauce. With some onions, perhaps.
And when your correspondent finally decides to correlate a meal with a specific end of the day, he certainly doesn’t scruple to obey society’s covenant about operation during specific hours. Here’s huevos rancheros for dinner.
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| Huevos Rancheros |
Caramelise onion and garlic with cumin, then add lots of chopped tomatoes, green and red capsicum and chilli. Serve on a tortilla with two fried eggs on top. Still got any cask red left? Perfect.
1 Guy Debord, The Society Of The Spectacle, 1967, Ken Knabb trans.
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Fyodor · 4 May 2011, 16:37 · #
There’s never a bad time for a breakfast roll.
Casey · 4 May 2011, 18:09 · #
When I saw “Unmeats of the World” I was thinking “Tofu”.
Of course not What we have here are fried eggs with onion and garlic and cumin and chilli. On a tortilla. Always need carbs for balance. Cause you got that cask wine. Line your stomach. It’s important. I suppose you aint in a hurry to get a job then? What, with that combo goin on in you and around you?
Vue de monde of the nets, this place. Listen: As one of your regular readers, and a loyalist fan from way back, I would just like to know now. Shall I keep on commenting? Or just shut up? I can totally respect your food combos with silence if you wish. I don’t want to be like the peanut gallery above me. It’s not that I don’t like them, these recipes. They are, in their way, amazing. I’ve had eggs too, you know. I would hate to think that you think that I don’t appreciate this place. I do, believe me. It’s the BEST food blog ever. I really like the way this place makes me read everything through my fingers.
But you let me know. I will accept whatever you say.
Before I shut up forever, I was wondering if you cook asian dishes?
Okay bye.
Liam · 4 May 2011, 18:33 · #
Casey, you say “peanut gallery” like it’s a bad place to be.
There was a lot more stir-frying going on chez Liam, I admit, at the place immediately before the place I’m living now, where the stove was gas, not electric. I shall endeavour, in future posts, like Paul Keating, to reconfigure this blog’s economic future facing the Asia-Pacific region.
Who’s up for a whale steak?
Casey · 4 May 2011, 18:45 · #
Well, I’m not sure how attached to your recipes you be, to handle my, erm, reviews. And why is Fyodor’s gravatar hanging over me like that? That’s weird. Tell it to back away, for its own safety, for god’s sake.
Liam · 4 May 2011, 18:47 · #
Casey, what browser are you using? That seems to happen when there’s a one- or two-line comment in some browsers; I’ll try and fix it.
Pestodigitator · 4 May 2011, 18:51 · #
Someone has to be on top, Case.
Speaking of one-liners…
You say peanut, I say pinenut
Casey · 4 May 2011, 19:04 · #
Alright then. But only cause you got there first. But I have a broomstick and some cat claws, you will note, Fyodor.
Mozilla Firefox. I shall look forward to going turning to the Asia-Pacific and going to Ashfield with you, Liam.
Liam · 4 May 2011, 19:16 · #
Oh, funny you should say that. I’d been toying with the idea of a Liverpool Road addition to my expanding series on Dual Carriageway Cuisine.
Casey · 4 May 2011, 19:23 · #
Yay. Try Have you been to Shanghai Nights?
Now I know you think I’ve got another brothel delusion going, but this is a restaurant – it’s a great place for dumplings. And very dramatic. More dramatic than my fellow at Leichhardt. People shouting. Accusations. But all in Shanghainese. You don’t understand a word. It’s excellent.
Mindy · 5 May 2011, 17:23 · #
Wow, dinner theatre and all for the price of a meal. Bargain.
FDB · 9 May 2011, 11:03 · #
I love fighty staff, escpecially in languages I don’t speak.
Tiba’s on Sydney Rd is awesome for it. Nothing is EVER spoken at a regular volume between staff – they switch instantly from their ‘customer voice’ to a banshee-wail-slash-lion’s-roar right before your eyes.
Nice looking breakfast. You must’ve been gutted by the broken yolk though.
Casey · 9 May 2011, 19:26 · #
See? I’m not the only critic in this joint. The broken yolk may well have been an artistic slash FDB. Credit where credit may be due (Although it signified, to me at least – at the place I am at at the the moment – the loss of prelapsarian perfection that was Eden, and with that the knowledge that Eden never was, and so….where was I, yes, Imma check that Tiba’s next time I’m down. I like Drama with my food.
Liam · 9 May 2011, 20:39 · #
It wasn’t art, I dropped it.
I’m a function over form, man, myself. Cooking with care might have been how I learned with my parents, but capitalism shaped my adult kitchenhood. Yolks are there to be smashed, is the principle, lest excessive heat in the bacon and egg roll incur liability upon the franchisee. But more on that later.
FDB · 10 May 2011, 22:13 · #
“…and so….where was I…”
Where indeed? You gonna close them parentheses any time soon, or is the rest of this conversation a perpetual aside?
Do go to Tiba’s but. If the drama disappoints, the food is very nice and cheap. Salty yoghurt drink.
Liam – I have eaten five cafe breakfasts in Sydney in my life, and broken or overcooked yolks have featured in three. I’m talking a “poached” egg comprising a yellow golf ball in a frisbee of rubbery white for two of those. Is it not such a big thing to have runny yolks in Sydney, or have I been very unlucky?
Casey · 11 May 2011, 15:25 · #
1 January, 2000
Dear FDB,
Re: Parentheses
Thank you for your kind note regarding the above. Rest assured, as your representative in my brain, I am deeply interested in the matters you have raised. To this end, I have made representations on your behalf to my brain, in order to rectify the situation.
Unfortunately, I have been advised that in light of the current budget constraints, I do not have access to Liam in my brain. Given this situation, I must further advise you that in this instance, I am unable to get to the closure of the parentheses, that you requested.
However, you may rest very assured that I will keep your note on file, and should there be any changes to the situation, like hacking Liam’s blog for fun, I will be in touch to advise you of any advances in this currently intolerable situation.
Please also rest assured I take your concerns very seriously. I have carefully noted them and now sleep with the note under my pillow. I agree with you that this should not occur in future. You may also rest further assured I will lobby my brain to ensure these sorts of outrages do not occur again.
If I can assist you with any other matter, please do hesitate to contact me or my staff, who will be more than happy to draft these sorts of responses for an eternity.
Your sincerely, and Kind regards,
etc etc the witch and stuff Esq.
FDB · 11 May 2011, 19:02 · #
Okay then, I’ll do it.
)
There.
Now we’re back in the main game!
Albeit with nothing much left to say.
I’m nostalgic already for those carefree days of bracketry, but there’s no standing in the way of progress.
Liam · 12 May 2011, 13:51 · #
The way you’re supposed to say it is “I’ve never voted anything but Labor in my life, but since John Robertson privatised breakfast I’m voting for Tony Abbott”. Off you go.
I know you’re gonna love this next act…
Casey · 5 June 2011, 08:54 · #
Excuse me, don’t be going and getting a life or anything. More recipes. I like the category unmeats of the world, me and meat having undergone an acrimonious divorce since we last spoke.
Many thanks,
The Witch
Liam · 6 June 2011, 16:21 · #
I’ve been on holidays from my holidays, Oh Witchy One. But, you know, now I’m back in the country and suddenly my life’s like Luke 15:22-24 directed by John Waters, produced by Mel Brooks.
I guess I’ll have to shelve my beef rendang recipe then, right?
Fyodor · 6 June 2011, 17:53 · #
Smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em, Haiku.
I vote beef rendang first, then something for the humans lower down the food chain.
Casey · 7 June 2011, 06:40 · #
omg I knew you were up to no good. Liam, I don’t care if you lived the high life rolling round in a pig pen far from your own country of Glebe, squandering your inheritance of beer and Labor party sausages, and then only to come home and squander your older brother’s inheritance too. (God I hope you have one or this story goes nowhere) Tell your father that no one is worth a fattened calf and does he have a permit to keep one anyway? There’s laws against these things you know, at least here in Sydney.
At any rate you can’t afford meat. It belongs to your putative brother. Don’t be selfish. You’ve got his putative ring. How much more putative do you want, for the love of god? And don’t listen to the cannibal above me, what with his food chain and crazy hair.
Alright, alright, alright. I admit there’s the issue of waste to consider.
If you insist on cooking your fattened calf, go ahead, it will go off shortly anyway. May as well go impress Hannibal up there. Throw in a human limb while you are at it. Make him really happy.
Fyodor · 7 June 2011, 11:13 · #
God prefers meat, Case. Look at what he made Cain do to his brother.
And don’t get me started on that creepy communion vibe.
Casey · 7 June 2011, 14:17 · #
No no no. Genesis, God gave em grains to eat. Grains and seeds. Muesli chewing birkenstock wearers as Paul would say. Then there was the Fall. Someone with your sorts of attributes had a hand in it, I believe. It had nothing to do with vegetarianism versus cannibalism, it’s cause Cain gave God rotten grapes, the idiot. Any way Abel is the most stupid name I ever heard of. He was asking to be killed. I would have killed him too. Where was I? Oh Yeah. Don’t you be being the avocado again and twisting things. As for communion, what’s wrong with a little blooding? Ever watch the opening sequence of True Blood? Sex, Death, Religion – it’s all estatic you know.
Liam · 7 June 2011, 15:10 · #
I’ve always thought Saint Paul of Bankstown’s sense of language beat the lesser Paul of Tarsus. He’s more self-righteous, too.
Fyodor · 7 June 2011, 15:47 · #
And appropriately so. As St Paul once noted, the path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by scumbags.
“As for communion, what’s wrong with a little blooding?”
Blooding? Nothing at all. I’m positively sanguine about blooding. It’s the symbolic cannibalism that’s icky.
The homies are all out for the night, kicking back with Jay-C, and out of nowhere the geezer says, “eat me”, AND FUCKING MEANS IT? WLF?
Like I said: creepy.
Casey · 8 June 2011, 08:31 · #
Excuse me, I understand you don’t like people asking you to eat them. You probably don’t like germs either. Each to their own. But: What does WLF stand for? Whiskas Liberation Front? What?
Liam · 8 June 2011, 09:32 · #
WLF IS GONNA ROCK YA
Fyodor · 8 June 2011, 09:39 · #
Laughing. Out. Loud.
Somebody give that man a cupcake.
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