So I wander around this maze of stalls and exhibitors that
have everything from gluten free cupcakes to Rekorderlig.
You name it, it was there.
Herbs and spices, cheeses, wines (one from Heathcote was there! Go
neighbours!), pasta, fish, smoothies, cocktails, anti-pasta, magazines, books,
health foods, high protein foods, crisps, condiments, chocolates, yoghurt, ice
cream, diet pasta, raw foods, lollies,
soda stream, utensils, knives, cookware and cooking appliances.
It was hard not to loose my mind and spend a billion
dollars.
It was funny, because you would stand there watching some
dude demonstrate a chopping utensil that was designed to rescue you from the
tiresome chore of… chopping… and everyone was impressed until he told you it
was sixty dollars (show special, of course).
Then the crowd would slowly vanish; myself included.
Then there was the dude demonstrating a stick
blender. It looked pretty, and I watched
this ‘Swiss Stick’ do everything that my $20 Tiffany stick from Big W
does. Only, it cost $199 (again, show
saving of $100). Mmmm…
I tasted relishes, dips, tomatoes, apples, high protein
bars, nut cubes, hand made potato crisps, and was offered more wine than I care
to think about. Such a waste on me.
I could have bought myself a special wine glass with a
holding strap that goes around my neck.
That way, you have your own glass bouncing around your chest AT ALL
TIMES. Ready for the samples that were
freely flowing.
I thought of many people I could buy this glass for, but I
wouldn’t want to be responsible for the alcoholism that could result from it.
I could have bought myself a market trolley with Good Food & Wine Show printed on
it. They looked awesome. They were also fucken annoying when you were
trying to get through the crowd or worse: trying to get to your seat at a
demonstration. Fucken things were a pain
in the arse.
As per prams, but I’ll come to that in a moment.
No one thinks you’re cool because you were stupid enough
to spend $30 on a fancy trolley that tells no one that cares you were at the Good Food & Wine Show. Seriously; no one cares.
Except foodies, but they’re spankers anyway.
So finally, I come across my beloved Maggie’s stall. No surprise it’s packed.
As I stood back surveying the best way to attack the stall
(because I hate waiting and have two free hands to beat through the throng), a
young dude comes up to me and shoves a platter in my face.
‘Would you like to sample some of Maggie’s Sparkling Ruby
Cabernet?’
‘Ahhh… no thanks love.
I don’t drink.’
‘It’s non-alcoholic.’ He offers.
‘You’re fucking kidding me? She makes a non-alcoholic wine?’ OMG! I
thought Maggie was awesome before, but now… GOD.
‘Yes,’ he smiled, extending the tray out to me. I took one of the little plastic shot glasses
(clarsy), and said again ‘Are you sure it’s non-alcoholic?’
‘Absolutely,’ he said a little nervously.
‘What the difference?’ some tart next to me barked,
grabbing one of the shots and downing it in a heart beat. ‘It’s not going to kill you to have a little
taste…’
‘Actually, it could.’ I said, thinking you fucken smartarse. I’d be
more focused on getting your roots touched up than having a crack at me, love.
‘I’m allergic to alcohol.’
Now, I’m not allergic enough that I would drop dead from
the stuff; I just get very sick very quickly.
It’s more like an intolerance, if that makes sense.
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Do I look like I’m kidding?’ I said, sniffing the shot
glass. Smelt devine!
‘So, you can’t drink at all?’ the tarts tarty friend
said. I had to check her legs for a
moment, just to make sure she wasn’t wearing the trademark Frankston white
tassly boots, cos she was like clarsy and stuff.
‘Nope.’ I said.
‘And it’s gonna get very messy very quickly if this has alcohol in it,’
I added, wishing she would fuck off and stop spoiling this experience for
me. All I wanted to do was smell it and
savour the taste, just like a spanky foodie.
‘So, you’ve never been drunk?’ said the tart. ‘OMG! You haven’t lived!’ she and her friend
laughed in total amazement as they grappled with the concept of a sober
weekend.
Resolute that my experience had well and truly been
shattered, I downed the shot, confident I wasn’t going to start projectile
vomiting. ‘Nope.’ I smiled, placing the empty glass back on the
tray. ‘Thank God, because I know I could end up like some trashy
loudmouth that thinks life is all about alcohol! Imagine that!’ The dude holding the tray nearly dropped it
as he burst out laughing.
The tarts just laughed whilst trying to work out whether I
was having a crack of not. Have another
drink girls; it might help.
So, the highlight of my day so far, was purchasing a $14
bottle of Maggie Beer’s Sparkling Red Cabernet, along with her show bag, which
indeed contained Verjuice and a paste (apricot)! Lee FTW!
With my non-alcoholic bottle of awesomeness in hand, I
stood outside the exhibition’s restaurant, reading the menu of Maggie inspired
goodness. How lovely would it have been
to sit in there with my pretend wine and a bowl of yummy risotto… however, the
concept of a hot dog and chips for $10 won.
How clarsy am I? Had to check that I didn’t have the white
tassly boots on. I’d just rather spend my money on goodies to take home, I
figured. Tight arse, I know; but that’s
life.
After my divine culinary lunch, I dumped my purchases at
the Drop Zone, and headed back toward the celebrity theatre for the Manu
show. I figured I could purchase one of
his cookbooks and get him to sign it later at the book signing stand of the
show. Awesome.
Maybe I would be inspired by his French-ness?
So as I queued up, I was entertained by the family in
front of me arguing about being there.
Apparently, one of the daughters ‘wasn’t in the mood’, and the mother
was going off crook at her, saying she could have given her ticket to the other
daughter’s friend, and the sook could have stayed home. Fair call, I thought. Typical teenage unappreciative twat; doesn’t
care because she didn’t pay the $30 to get in.
Pffft.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in my isle seat, five
rows from the front. Booyaa! Downside of an isle seat; everyone needs to
get past you. No biggie, except for the
nuffies that have their fucken trolleys in tow.
Seriously. Wtf?
Not long before the show started, I heard a woman speak
behind me. ‘Excuse me, but our seats are
in the middle of the row, and I was wondering if we could swap with you?’ she
said to the person sitting behind me. ‘We
have a pram, and can’t leave the pram in the isle whilst we sit in the middle.’
Fair swap, I thought.
Better seats in the middle perhaps…
‘Ahhh… no. I don’t
really want to move. We’re all together…
it’s a family day out.’ A young foodie spanker replied.
You’re fucken
kidding me, I
thought. Why wouldn’t you help them out? It’s
not like you can choose your seating.
Fuck me… can’t you cope for forty-five minutes without your family?
I think the woman was as surprised as I was, and simply
replied with an ‘oh…’
I turned around and said ‘You can have my seat, if it
helps. I’ll move into the middle. I don’t give a shit. That way, you can be with your pram?’
‘Oh, it’s okay, because we want to sit together as well.’
‘Ahhh… okay.’ I thought.
‘Well, the offers there.’ I smiled, and turned back to the stage. Fuck ya then.
I can understand you wanting to sit together, but in a situation like
this, would it really matter?
Fucken prams. Sure,
your children shouldn’t stop you from going out and having a good time, but
couldn’t the husband look after the baby for the afternoon? Really?
Is it just me?
Anyway, the show begins with five people being dragged out
of the audience and forced to dance on the stage, in salute to Manu’s win on Dancing with the Stars.
It was uncomfortably cringe worthy. Only way I could describe it. As the MC is running through the audience
looking for people, I sat there thinking ‘please don’t pick me… please don’t
pick me…’ because I can’t stand any unnecessary attention being drawn to myself
in any way shape or form, and because I was a fat chick sitting in an isle, I
was a prime target.
Thankfully, I dodged that bullet.
However, it’s one of those situations where you think
‘bummer… I could have copped five minutes of humiliation…’ because they got
some pretty awesome cookware and show bag prizes! Well done to them, I say to you.
So Manu start’s his show, and I must admit that it was
hilarious! The dude is funny. I’ve seen him on Boys Weekend Away, and a little bit on My Kitchen Rules, but I didn’t realise how funny he was. Natural performer. The crowd loved him.
After the show, he ran through the crowd literally
throwing out prizes to people, which was interesting, because the boxes were
fucken massive things like mixers and blenders and stuff… not the type of shit
you ‘throw’ around! LOL! Hilarious!
I must say, I learnt more from Manu’s show that
George’s. George is like an inventor;
does all of this fancy shit that you can’t cook at home, simply because we
don’t have dry ice and dehydrators to hand.
Manu cooked some beautiful comfort food that I know I could throw on a
plate.
I headed over to the book stall: $50 for Manu’s latest
book. That was okay, but the thought
struck me to check what time he would be there for singing. Not for another two hours.
Fuck that. I’m
done, and I’m going home. Manu’s book can wait for another day.
So, after all the entertainment, crowd jostling, food
sampling, slapper tolerating, trolley tripping, whiney foodie wankers,
controlling Greek mamas, French toast and rampant children (that should be leashed),
it was time to grab my goodies and go home.
One the way home, I called into Iris, and gave her the two
jars of Fletchers Gherkin Spread I’d picked up for her. Both of us have been looking for it in the
supermarket for a long time, and when I saw it at the show, I couldn’t get my
hands on it quick enough.
Made Iris’ day, which in turn made mine. Forget my Maggie wine; Iris being happy with
her Gherkin Spread was totally worth the effort.
Next year, get yourself to the Good Food & Wine Show; foodie wanker or not. You’ll love it.
Peace out.
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