WTF? Fast Food Frenzy

An American woman who paid for a 10-piece meal of McDonald's Chicken McNuggets became irate after she was told the store was out of them.

So she called 911. Three times.

"This is an emergency. If I would have known they didn't have McNuggets, I wouldn't have given my money, and now she wants to give me a McDouble, but I don't want one," Latreasa Goodman told police.

"This is an emergency."

The McNugget meltdown happened last week and ended with Goodman, 27, getting a notice to appear in court on a charge of misusing 911, according to a recently released police report.

Goodman told investigators she tried to get a refund for the 10-piece McNuggets but the cashier told her all sales are final.

"I called 911 because I couldn't get a refund, and I wanted my McNuggets," Goodman told police.

The cashier told police she offered Goodman a larger portion of food for the same price to make up for it, but said Goodman got "irate", the report states.

Goodman reportedly yelled, "I don't want a McDouble and small fry," the cashier told investigators.

Dispatchers for 911 told police Goodman called the emergency number three times and on each occasion was told an officer was en route.

"Goodman maintained the attitude 'This is an emergency, my McNuggets are an emergency'," the report states.

McNuggets, introduced to the McDonald's menu in 1983, are sold in more than 100 countries.

By Will Greenlee of SNS

Bangkok Floating Market Food

The influx of Chinese migrants brought a range of new dishes to the Thai market stalls; and most snacks and street food are still of Chinese origin - only a few, like green papaya salad are truely Thai. Hawkers soon left the market place and sought their customers elsewhere: on the canals, in the streets, in boats; with bamboo poles slung over their shoulders, and later wheeling their wares on carts.
David Thompson, Thai Food

The resourcefulness of food hawkers never ceases to amaze me, and this time it's the ingenuity of these mobile kitchens. Here Thai vendors manage to braise, brew, grill and deep fry in shallow longtail boats - the likes of which the average tourist has struggles to clamber into for their organised tours of the floating market. And the food? Delicious.


As always, some of the best food we have eaten on our travels has cost us a couple of bucks from a hawker. This time it was morning and we hunkered by the edge of a klong (canal) just outside Bangkok, slurping slurries of simple, yet heavenly Thai food, as people bartered and shopped around us, the heat of elements rising steadily into a hazy, polluted Bangkok day.

Slow Food Trivia Night, Mon 16 February

Back by popular demand is the Slow Food Melbourne Gastronomic Trivia Night with MC Amanda Finnis.

Gastronomica is a quiz with a difference. Form a team and pit your wits against your Gastronomica host. How's your knowledge of Australian wine regions? What do you know about the beers of Europe? Do you know your Stilton from your Brie? Your loin from your chump chops? Your béchamel from your bearnaise? How good are your tasting skills - can you identify separate ingredients from one taste of a dish?

Come along and have a go at overthrowing Table Matteo, the reigning gastro-champs (or is that chumps?). Great fun and fantastic prizes - as usual!

Quiz begins at 8pm
Collins Quarter, 86a Collins Street
(between Exhibition and Russell street)
See the Collins Quarter website for location details.

Gastronomica is a quiz night like no other involving:

• Appetiser - a special written question
• Entrée - 10 general questions
• Main Course - 10 multiple choice questions
• Palate Cleansers - take on the MC, one-on-one, for a chance of a prize
• Dessert - 10 questions on a specialist topic

For each Gastronomica quiz night there will be interactive questions involving a taste or smell ... and a variety of spot quizzes for instant prizes.

The unique quiz that is Gastronomica also features:

The Wheel of Cheese

The Wheel of Cheese is a truly marvellous construction. This specially designed wheel is used to decide the degree of difficulty of certain "spot quizzes" that occur during the night. Will the question be soft, medium or hard?

The Mystery Box

A mystery consumable item is placed inside a box. A clue as to the contents is placed on the top. To guess the contents a gold coin donation is required. At the end of the night the first correct entry to be drawn from a hat wins the box and its contents. All proceeds from The Mystery Box go to a charity of the organiser's choice.

The Instant Review

Teams get the chance to try a wine, spirit, beer, food ... and then write a 25-word review. The review deemed the best by your Gastronomica host, wins a prize.

Collins Quarter would like to invite you to Ra (upstairs) for Champagne and cigars after the trivia or come early for a bite to eat first.

I have seven people in my team and would welcome others...

...Let me know if you'd like to come.

The Swallows Vs Nacional

Sustainable. The communal table at Nacional lit by a fixture made of recycled bottles. The vases are large jars sitting in a wooden wine crate.

A great social success is a pretty girl who plays her cards
as carefully as if she were plain.

F.Scott Fitzgerald

Everyone needs a good local. A place where you can prop up bar, or slink into casually when you're not in the mood to fire up the stove. Where you can mingle with mates and even impress a few from other burbs. Living in Port Melbourne we are lucky to live in the vicinity of a few pubs serving good grub at a range of prices, a good fish and chip shop, along with a smattering of sound Asian eateries and a decent Frenchie. But ever curious we recently tried two new ventures.



It started with indecision in one of our local pubs. Should we eat the bar food or a meal? Over a couple of beers, we surveyed the bar food and decided eventually that it constituted the kind of snacks that you might have with a late afternoon bevvie. Croquettes, seafood spring rolls, oysters, chicken wings etc. So after an enquiry and a table turned, into the restaurant we went.



The venue was The Swallows Hotel, which has recently passed into the hands of the Rubira family. They have a long history of running venues with a seafood bias in Melbourne, the last having been in Sorrento. Sound venues that have enjoyed a low key measure of success. The Swallows venue itself had been a bastion of the long wine list and hearty rib sticking comfort food, with lazy afternoons of drinking over at the boules court alongside the light rail tracks. But the last owner somehow couldn't pin down the long tried and true formula and eventually surrendered it to the Rubira's.



When we entered the dining room it appeared that the old Swallows clientele of retirees had returned along with the Rubira's faithful who looked as though they once holidayed in Sorrento, but now were getting a little long in the tooth for all that jazz. Most of the parties were celebrating one thing or another and twice we heard an operatic version of "Why was she born so beautiful...?" gush from the tonsils of one of the waiters followed by a smattering of polite clapping from the geriatric audience.



As the starched linen grazed our knees, the volume of chatter became deafening. The pub is small and retains all the genteel features of a bygone era, such a sea green tiles upon the wall, a dark wood bar and Victorian era plaster festoonary, crowned with incongruously modern lampshades. The windows sit high, allowing those at the tiny bar to gaze out to the park, but do not benefit those seated at dining tables, whose repose is dominated by a somewhat tired traditional colour scheme of burgundy, cream and forest green.



Our waitress called us 'Luv, luv, luv' repeatedly and the tenor waiting tables pointed us towards the blackboard menu. There was no paper menu. It was 8.45pm and the waitstaff danced the teeming room like a couple frenzied dragonflies.



After scanning back and forth across the wide menu, the thing that struck me first were the six breeds of fish marking the main courses, noting their provenance as all being from Australian waters. Each is available with your choice of beer batter, panko crumbs, fried, grilled or egg wash and are served with fat chips.



The remainder of the mains consist of the obvious - linguine marinara and seafood lasagne, to steak and the odd man out, a double cooked Peking duck. Vegetables cost extra - $8 a serve in fact - and a trend that I abhor in venues. Entrees were many and included salt and pepper prawns, crumbed sardine fillets, Bruny island oysters available prepared in a variety of ways ($3 ea) and oyster shooters($5ea).



I saw whitebait fritters listed as an entree and my mind was filled with many memories of these tasty little critters quickly fried to a crisp, lightly suspended in batter and offering a melt in the mouth moment of fishy paradise. What a marvellous summer dish, but I couldn't have made a poorer choice. All fantasies of deliciousness were dashed on their arrival.



A fat omelet, not a fritter, sat on my plate cut into quarters. The first piece did not contain fish. It was thick, fluffy egg with the occasional lashing of chilli fire. The second piece contained what appeared to be freshly hatched threadlike white bait, resembling over sized sperm. But they were so swamped by the egg that had it not been for their tiny eyes and white flagellum I might not have been aware that they had been added at all. It was stodgy and not what I had ordered.



I was not a happy camper. I sipped my glass of Red Claw pinot gris smouldering with ire; underwhelmed. 'It should be listed as an omelet, not a fritter, on the menu', I said to Mr Stickyfingers, my eyes narrowing with frustration. 'That. Was. Not. A. Fritter!' It really was not what I had felt like eating, it neither met nor exceeded my expectations. And it did not bode well for the rest of the meal.



The mains arrived and quite frankly they were serviceable but nothing to write home about. Mr Stickyfingers Seafood Linguine was a little too dominated by chilli and was sitting in a watery coral coloured pool of fish stock, tomato water and spices. The seafood itself was fine, but the dish was lacklustre. The linguine itself reeked of dried commercial pasta with nothing to recommend it, the sauce was thin, unlike the anticipated unctuousness of a pasta that is either lightly slicked with olive oil or clinging to an unctuous sauce.



My garfish came as five plump fillets pan fried - not grilled as requested. I am accustomed to having garfish whole and felt slightly bereft at the homogenised experience. Plated with lemon and a not excessively piquant Tartare sauce studded with chives, a small bowl of wedge shaped brown chips - that were a little well done - were set to one side. So much potential, so little delivered, I thought.



The best thing of the night was the spinach and pine nut salad dressed with sesame oil and soy, then studded with an ant sized dice of bacon and teeny-weeny pine nuts. When the bill came, we found that per head it was slightly more than our bill at Nacional, but over all a significantly less satisfying experience.




Mr Stickyfingers said that given the choice, he would prefer to return to Nacional and not Swallows. I have to agree, I have no desire to visit Swallows again under the current owners, but I can see that there is a market for this kind of place, particularly with an older, mainstream customer who doesn't really like the taste of fish or the navigation between bones, skin and flesh that comes with it. For us, to add insult to injury, the following day, Mr Sticky had gastro.



So what is Nacional? And why did we like it?




Nacional is located in a new commercial building on a residential street in Middle Park - though the address details claim the more fashionable Albert Park.



Fronting the main street it is a provedore, with a bistro attached that runs around the corner along Herbert Street. The decor is Modern Rustic, it's casual yet considered, and while floor to ceiling glass dominates it still retains a certain intimacy. There's no twee brocante or Victorian era bric-a-brac to clutter the space, yet it feels honest and earnest without being self conscious. I felt right at home there.



We arrived post theatre one Monday night after meaning to try their dinner service for ages. It was getting toward 9pm and wasn't busy, but the kids were still on school holidays at the time. We were seated near the back door overlooking the communal table - a popular spot at breakfast time.



Nacional has been up and running for about 6months, so we were confident that they would have hit their stride. Like Swallows, it has a good pedigree. The owners also ply their trade at the formidable Syracuse and were involved in the 'poor man's Press Club', known as Mini - a modern Greek venue. The chef Leena Monson was transplanted from Syracuse along with the resources of that venue's cellar.



Like Mini and Syracuse you have a choice of small plates to share, but there is the flexibility of having traditionally structured courses too. Surprisingly there is also a kids menu of things such as fish fingers, a mark of a business that knows their locale and potential clientele - being an added enticement at lunchtime for the packs of local braying Yummy Mummies who dispatch their offspring from the ubiquitous, badly parked SUV's and for working parents who need a quick meal out with the kids.



It was a tough call on what to choose from the menu and blackboard specials, so much sounded appealing and the emphasis on SOLE ingredients made it all the more enticing. Between four diners we each chose two small plates. Firstly through the kitchen hatch came some piadina, and then the table began to fill with dishes.



Softshell crab dusted in blue corn semolina and deep fried, hovered over a corn based salsa. Softshell crab is often battered or crumbed but this had a different spin and was very subtle in flavour. The squishy crab meat contrasting well with the crisp, slightly gritty crust and tangy succulence of the Mexican style salsa with grapefruit and avocado worked for me but not so much for my dining companions.



Duck confit on crisp triangles of flat bread felt a little like my Mum's eighties dinner party hors d'oeuvres and were hoovered up by the others diners, but the fish wrapped in pancetta was excellent to all, along with a rich, braised belly pork that came with crackling. Slabs of deep fried polenta sat stacked like railways sleepers and married well with a harissa mayonnaise and like the dish of asparagus cleared the palate between richer items.


The whitebait here were mature and like the softshell crab, dusted and fried crisp to fishy, melt in the mouth perfection. Then we followed with a home style baked apple with excellent ice cream and a chocolate pudding. By the time we paid up, we were replete, not overstuffed and the palates had truly been invigorated.



The cost was less than anticipated, and a welcome relief in these times. To bring that together with excellent quality ingredients that were deftly managed without being over complicated and matched with service that was attentive without being intrusive, made Nacional a big hit for us.



Quite frankly, this is an intelligently run business. In culinary terms, although slightly less progressive than Movida Next Door, Nacional is a similar type of experience - smart, small shared plates bursting with the joys of good provenence and creative execution. That is, without being wounded in the hip pocket after the suffocating feeling of being cramped into a dark space, while simultaneously deafened by the roar of the business.



Instead Nacional was relaxed, comfortable and restorative, while being free of fads and the kind of people who aren't there for the food, but just want to be seen. This unpretentious nook is a breath of fresh air that I'm proud to say is one of my locals.

Sun Lien Fai Lok - a letter to The Kitchen God

First in importance among Chinese Festivals is the celebration of Sun Lien - Chinese New Year, which begins one week before the old year ends, and when the God of the Kitchen Jao Jun ascends to heaven to report to Sheung Duy, Almighty God - The jade Emperor, all the virtues and vices of each member of the family.


So, on the twenty-third day of the of the Twelfth Moon, the family gathers before the picture of the Kitchen God which is pasted upon the kitchen chimney of every home. Accompanied by the sound of noisy popping of firecrackers, which are supposed to chase the evil spirits away, the family worships him and then smears his lips with molasses and other sticky sweets. This is to induce him to speak nothing but good, or to seal his lips so thoroughly that he will not be able to utter anything evil.


Then the picture is taken down, placed upon a chariot or horse made of reeds and paper, and brought to the principal courtyard with great ceremony. With even greater ceremony, the Kitchen God upon his horse or chariot is burned, and in this way he rises to swiftly on his spiritual way to Heaven.


On the thirtieth day of the Twelfth Moon the family gathers around the kitchen furnace once more; this time to welcome the return of the God to the kitchen with displays of delicious food and the cheerful sound of firecrackers. The new and gaudy picture of the Kitchen God is pasted upon the chimney and prayers are offered to encourage his generosity and good will during the New Year.


This period of celebration reaps a world of good, for it promotes benevolence and reunions. People in their best finery pay their respects to parents, grandparents, friends, acquaintances, and deceased ancestors. Kindnesses are shown to one and all, and petty quarrels are patched up. Also before the breaking of dawn of the New Year, all debts are settled. This is to insure the saving of the face of the borrower and to bring good fortune to him and his family during the coming year.

Doreen Yen Hung Feng, The Joy of Chinese Cooking, 1964

Dear Jao Jun, honoured Kitchen God,


I hope that you had a comfortable and swift journey to the court of the Jade Emperor preceding the New Year and that when you reached heaven that you were welcomed with a great and sumptuous banquet, filled with your favourite and most auspicious dishes.


I look forward to your return to my kitchen today and want to apologise in advance for the state of disarray that will greet you. Brace yourself.


Unfortunately you will return amidst the stink of acrid fumes. The smell of bitter herbs is emanating from my brewing of Traditional Chinese Medicine, that I hope will eradicate my symptoms of Polycystitic Ovarian Syndrome. I have faith in Professor Lo's skill, as you may recall he fixed my spinal issues and restored my ability to walk unassisted with months of nasty brews, that you too were subjected to.


I hope that by employing his knowledge of herbs we might conceive a child in the year of the Ox, but ultimately it is in the hands of the Jade Emperor. If it is not in my destiny, so be it. At least, by taking the herbal mass of seaweed, crab apples, roots, branches, bark, spices and tubers, the elimination of the symptoms will bring great comfort to me.


As you cast your eye across the household you will be disappointed. It is a mess. I failed in your absence to clean and tidy the house as I should. I have been working until 7pm, returning home to cook and then working again until midnight or later. There has been no time. Forgive me.


Mr Stickyfingers boxes of goods destined for eBay are still cluttering the entry to the house and the rooms after a more than a year, and you will find that they have been joined by boxes of the detritus removed from his office pod at Telstra following his redundancy. We are drowning in clutter. Grandmother would not have approved and would have shot me one of her 'dragon looks'. I know. I am ashamed. It's very poor Feng Shui.


In your report of our household to the Jade Emperor is there a chance that you were benevolent, in spite of the chaos of the home? Is it possible that you overlooked certain things in favour of other efforts?


In the year of The Rat you will have witnessed that I was concentrating on trying to be kinder, more understanding and less judgemental. I have been working hard to try to assist and improve the lot of others, through volunteering my services, teaching, spreading knowledge and mentoring. I have made an effort to remove myself from the toxic personalities that I was once drawn to and to be less bombastic myself.


I have been optimistic about mankind's abilities to support one another and to move forward in our respect for protecting the planet, its beasts and flora. And in order to save my beloved's face when others have said that I should work harder to support him financially whilst he enjoys not working, I have smiled, chewed my tongue and resisted the urge to tell them that it has always been me who keeps the roof over our heads and our bellies filled with food.


Speaking of which, I am indebted to you for broadening my cooking knowledge and skill, and for bringing along the opportunity and self awakening to newly explore more sustainable, local, ethical and organic foods. Thank you also for showing me that my passion for food could bring me fantastic new friends via the Blogosphere. I am grateful also for the opportunity I have had to visit South East Asian countries in the past 12 moons, learning more about the culture of my family and the recipes of the dishes that I love so much.


Tonight we will celebrate the new year with my parents. They have chosen not to eat the traditional Cantonese fare of our ancestors that is full of symbolism at new year, but to eat Hakka Chinese food in a restaurant in Glen Waverley instead. Traditionally there is no love lost between the Cantonese and the Hakka, so I have no idea why we are doing this, other than that my folks are eccentric to say the least. I'm sure it will be an education and no doubt, delicious. Last year we ate Malaysian food and didn't hook up until the fifth day of the new year. It is enough today that the family is together, as that is what Choy Lien Yut is all about.


As I look towards the year of the ox I am preparing my list of what I wish to relinquish and what I aim to gain in the next 12 moons. After holding my nose to swallow my nasty herbal brew, I will chew a preserved plum and burn my annual list with joss paper to be received into the heavens.


Until tonight when I will celebrate your return, I am as always forever in your hands,

Respectfully,

Stickyfingers

Sun Lien Fai Lok - gung hei fat choy!!

Happy Australia Day

A Shining light - Bobby Chin

Restaurant Bobby Chinn Rules:

This restaurant is an Abba, Kenny G, and Gypsy Kings free zone. We also refuse to play any bands with more than one lead singer or matching sweaters. Female singers dressed like whores with synchronised dancing are also banned!

To preserve the dining experience, we request that you are
well versed in mobile etiquette (SILENCE). All our poultry & meats are halal or as close as it gets to kosher...Except the pork of course! None of the staff were harmed (physically) to bring you quality food and service tonight, or ever.

Childrens menu available on request and duct tape is available
for hyperactive children. Please do not ask us to split the bill other than by a number. We do not do "She had this, and I had half of that" very well.

Please note that we have smaller portions at the same price for anorexics and those aspiring. Also this restaurant allows smoking, non smokers please refrain from farting in the smoking area unless it is a cigar. Thank you....

The evening menu, Restaurant Bobby Chinn,
Hanoi, Vietnam.

Through the all enveloping dark there was a fluttering of red silk and as my eyes adjusted it appeared that I was seated in the boudoir of a Madarin's concubine.


But in fact, this was Restaurant Bobby Chinn overlooking the Hoah Kiem Lake in Hanoi, Vietnam.





The restaurant is swathed in red silk. According to Bobby, he's hung over 1000 metres of the stuff around the venue. From the pleated wall coverings and pieces hanging artfully from the ceiling, to the curtains sheltering low divans surrounding hookah pipes, the decor is a melange of San Francisco and a Western fantasy of Asia, created because silk is cheaper than paint in Vietnam.





Flowers too are cheap, so white roses are hung from the ceiling in strands from threads and everything is awash in red rose petals, right down to the toilet bowls; just some of the many quirks of the venue and of the nation. Bobby's retro Asian theme is punctuated by modern art and the antics of his staff, dressed in black so only their faces and hands emerge from the darkness, almost like mimes.


Enormous dehumidifiers loom like Daleks in the corners of the venue. And the theatre of the restaurant is so pervasive that my eyes hardly stray from the drama of the venue to the activity outside on the lake. But it is the evening service and it is dark, so very dark in here.




On arrival we were told that our table would not be ready for another ten minutes, and in happy holiday mode we settled in easily at the well lit bar. It was then that the laughs began. First a laugh of joy because they had pickled onions, and therefore I could order my favourite aperitif - a Gibson, a dry martini without olives - but most of all I was tickled by Bobby's sense of humour, which although he is rarely here now, reaches into all corners of this happy place.


Take for the example the bar menu, where he lists the ten stages of drunkeness. They extend from being witty and charming after the first drink to thinking Kenny G is a genius, to finally being bulletproof. I loved it. But the humour extends right through the menu into why he does not list vegetarian offerings to the fact that a children's menu is available along with duct tape for passifying them. Listed under side dishes and bar snacks is: We tell you "You are beautiful" all night long. (Includes a signed copy of the menu) $5





But the biggest hoot of all comes after we are seated at our table and receive our menus. Just as Mr Sticky tells me that he cannot read it whilst cloaked in darkness, our waitress descends with two illuminated magnifying glasses.


Mr Sticky was saved a trip to the rose petal strewn toilets with menu, and you could have heard me cackling all the way over at Uncle Ho's Mauseleum at the hilarity of weilding these things over the menu as service hummed away in the inky recesses of the venue. I loved the gadgets so much that I later bought one from an old man on the streets of Bangkok. Bobby sells them at the restaurant, but other than for an autographed copy of his book, I resisted the urge to pay the big bucks for Bobby Chinn themed merchandise.





And although the eating across Vietnam is very light on the purse, meals here don't come cheap. The average Vietnamese citizen can't afford to eat here, so it is the domain of expats, successful businessmen, visiting dignitaries, tourists and gangsters. It cost us roughly the equivalent of at least 60 bowls of street hawked Pho, at tourist prices, each. So the average man gets to watch the goings on through the large street level windows, but really, they're not particularly interested. I think that they probably think it's a whole lot of stuff and nonsense. And quite right they are.


I actually felt that we were surrendering wads of dough for the spectacle, the occasion and for the humour of a stand up comedian turned chef. And although the food was delicious, the portions enormous and the service envigorating for that part of the world, it was the extraneous matter that widened my grin as we loped out into the evening air for a stroll around the lake before retiring to our hotel.

What did we eat? Well that deserves its own post. Stay tuned.

A Road Map for Epicure

“The cook doesn't want to be locked away in the kitchen anymore. He or she wants to be around the guests, ... That means that kitchen appliances suddenly become like a sofa and table - things that everybody is going to look at. I think it's a real indication of where we are in food culture today."

Ruth Reichl

How would I feel if I had recently been annointed the new Editor of The Melbourne Age's food supplement Epicure? Most probably I would be quaking in my boots.


From past experiences of being meted out daunting challenges, I know that I would rise to the occasion, so why the dramatic knee trembling? Melbourne Foodies are savage critics. By Foodies I mean the phalanx of media consuming Gastronauts who consider themselves well endowed of the metier gourmand.



They dissect; they nit-pick and they enjoy a grumble amongst their community. I expect that there is not a journalist who has been on the staff of the publication who has not been lambasted pompously over a few buckets of semillon sauvignon in the eastern suburbs or muttered at in restaurants. And let's not forget online. After all there's been a hearty flow of criticism between both Australian Bloggers and the traditional food media.


In the column to the right I have a section called "Stickyfinger's dream food magazine contains these stories...". It is a cross section of blogs from my feed reader. The blogs included are diverse and run from the poorly written to the professional. There is humour, audacity and pathos, events, reviews, food themed trends, restaurant news, recipes or tips and foreign tit-bits. But most of all they reflect what's real in our food community from writers young and old, the battlers and the affluent. In short, it's relevant. More relevant than Epicure has been.


I think the reason I stopped buying Epicure was because the reading online was so much more rich and juicy, so ripe with deliciously outrageous opinion and way less sycophantic than the newspaper. The information available online is often better and generally speaking, the food porn's more tantalising. And the language more colourful. OK, I understand that in print there are advertisers to appease and litigious types to avoid, but the material that surfaced in Epicure was becoming as dry as mouthful of Salada's to me.


So to the new Editor of Epicure, here's my wishlist of new things for your rag in 2009. Please consider:

• 'Going Dutch' - When restaurants are reviewed, publish at least two opinions - and don't publish the photos of your journos so they have some hope of anonymity and objectivism

• 'Vin de Siecle' - Give us more stories about wine regions - both old and new world so we can understand what is on offer in the bottle shop
  

• 'Provenance' - A regular column that singles out one of the rare breed meats and one heritage fruit and vegetable, available at farmers markets and organic stores (what, wherefore and how to use them)

• 'Waiter there's a blog in my soup' - Publish a juicy blog post, excerpt or photo that you've found that week, with the consent of the author of course

• 'Just like Mum makes' - Australia has migrants from more than 50 countries, so a monthly piece on an homecooked meal from one of these cultures would be relevant - and please, not some aproximated version by a staffer. Recipes that work in a home kitchen with the same techniques used by Mama
  

• Gadgets - road test new devices on the market from silicon cookware to Thermomixers

• Kids - a humourous column on eating with them, hints on how to get them to eat new things and a recipe

• Sustainable food - farming, eating, family budgeting and keeping a green kitchen

• Kitchen porn - show me some drool worthy kitchens and how they're laid out. Even show me Chef's home kitchens
  

• Letters - let's read about the Melbourne Food Nazi's grievances and delights
  

...I could go on, but one last suggestion, 'Morning Glory' - A weekly column on breakfast venues - and I'll be more than happy to write it for you - LOL!

What do you think? What would you like to see in the new Epicure?
Disscuss it here...