He looks at me. “Sure, if you order in a reasonable amount of time.”

Yep, touche. Flicking through the menu. Vietnamese is one of my favourite Asian foods, but sadly often not a huge range for vegetarians beyond rice paper rolls. Ditto for the average Chinese restaurant. Not like Thai; lots of choice there!

So predictably we both want to order rice paper rolls. But it’s winter! So we should eat something warm… plus I always feel so silly when we order the same dish, it seems redundant.

Ooo, salt and pepper tofu! I hear about people liking salt and pepper squid so why not tofu? We can split both dishes.

After five minutes the rice paper rolls are here! Bit too much noodle, and the rice paper is very chewy… but the peanut sauce is some of the thickest I’ve ever seen! Best part!

Another five minutes and the tofu arrives, deep-fried oblongs piled on top of each other and scattered with green onion and chilli.

Each tofu pillow is pale with a thin scratchy salted skin. Enough looking, got to eat before it gets cold!

First thought: yup, salty and peppery. It’s white pepper, which I prefer, giving it bite without the overloading aftertaste. The batter is very thin, almost like the pieces were just rolled in scratchy seasoning before cooking. It crunches gently, a little glutinous at times.

The tofu itself is magnificent. Silken and soft, almost melting like butter in my mouth. Without its crust it would be nearly runny, and the contrast of textures is great. The taste is neutral of course, but that works when seasoned with this much kick.

Oo! Bit into a chilli! Hot hot! Drink water. No good. Need something else. Sticking a bit of the peanut sauce on my tongue, rolling it around. Ah… much better.

Okay, stick to the green onion and brush the red bits off.

More salt than pepper. The Australian in me suddenly wants vinegar. There is a smidge of oiliness but they’re quite dry considering. Good, I hate my tongue being awash with oil.

Can’t quite finish the plate. It’s very filling, all that protein.

Well, not healthy like rice paper rolls, but tasty! Too much effort to cook at home so a nice treat to eat out.

And we’re all done within half an hour. The waiter looks smug when I pay. “I told you.”

You did, you did.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Spicy salt and pepper tofu (dau hu rang muoi

Similarly I am now stranded standing in front of the cupboard, staring up at the cereal shelves, frozen with indecision.

I just don’t feel like anything as heavy as Weet-Bix. But if I don’t eat a decent amount then I’ll be hungry and cranky later.

The Husband has a small collection of little Kellogg’s travel cereal boxes. One of those is Sustain. I’ve never eaten Sustain because they always used to advertise it as the cereal eaten by athletes at the AIS and I am not a sporty person so surely it was never meant to be eaten by people such as myself. Though I’m not an iron man and I used to eat Nutri-Grain, and they always have cricketers on the Weet-Bix box so I guess my thoughts are illogical.

But! This box of Sustain has no picture of a fit person leaping hurdles! So maybe it’s safe to eat.

Ripping the top of the box open, pulling out the little sealed plastic bag inside. Bah, they never put a realistic serve of cereal in these things. Struggling with the bag… open, will you? Ah! Upending it into my bowl.

Oh, my apologies. This actually does seem to be a decent-sized bowl. Peering. Uh-oh, mostly cornflakes. I don’t really like cornflakes. What else? I see rice flakes, wheat flakes, a few oats, the occasional sliver of almond, some sultanas and currants…

Enough staring. Pour in milk enough to provide pleasant moisture but not too much to avoid sog. Seating myself with a spoon and the paper.

Crunch. Noisy cereal! The main taste is the corn, but not as strong as I was fearing. The mixture of wheat and rice flakes don’t have much taste in themselves but they keep the corn mild.

In the first few mouthfuls there seemed to be a honey sweetness but that’s died away now. Maybe that was dried apple that I’m confusing. The sultanas are nice, adding some sugar chew. The currants are a bit hard, there’s one lodged in a molar now. Pretty easy to miss the almonds with all the crunch of the flakes but they’re there.

Half-way through the bowl. Trying to leave some dry piles of cereal on the sides so they’re not soggy before I want them.

This isn’t half-bad. Don’t know how full it will keep me, flakes seem like they would digest quickly, but I think it’s hitting the spot for now.

Mixing the last bits into the milk. Less crunch than at the beginning but still definite bite.

Well, Sustain, I guess it remains to be seen if you live up to your name, but right now I think I would eat you again.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Travel pack of Kellogg’s Sustain

Not me, I’m here for a purpose. Time for some Indian lunchings.

Finally the car is parked. Seating ourselves since the owner-waiter is on the phone, flicking through the menu.

The Husband decides on a rava masala dosa. I can’t decide between poori with potato curry, or bhatura with chickpeas. Umm… bhatura! I normally like chickpea curry better than potato anyway.

Talking about big decisions. I hate big decisions. I hate not being able to undo them if I get them wrong. Especially when both options are equally weighted with good and bad points.

Pause the conversation, here is my lunch.

I didn’t know bhatura would be quite so… fried. I normally try and avoid oily foods. Oh well! There are two stacked on the plate, huge half-inflated circles of heat-blistered flatbread. Pale creamy yellow to golden on the burns, bumpy like poorly-contacted school books. Each at least twenty centimetres in diameter.

Besides them in a shallow silver oval dish are the chickpeas, snuggled in a thick brown-red tomato gravy.

Smells good. Smells like it’s time to eat.

Tear at the top bhatura. Though the bread looks as if it would be hard and crisp to the touch it’s actually soft. Pop a dry piece in my mouth. Tastes of semolina with a hint of potato. A little bit of chewing, but it’s certainly not tough. A little like roti but softer, firmer, with less stretch.

Ripping a bigger triangle to trawl through the chana chickpeas.

The chickpeas are soft but not mushy, the rich gravy tastes prompting an unplanned ‘mmm’ of pleasure. A harmonising blend of tomato, oil, cumin, garam masala, chilli and who knows what… With the bhatura wrapped around it both taste fantastic together.

I eat. And eat. And eat. And there’s still another bhatura to go.

Eat. Yum. Eat. My fingers are coated in drips of chana, my palms shining from the oil on the puffed bread. It’s gotten cold, looses that perfection and becomes more tough.

A quarter of bhatura and a few spoons of chana left, but I’m done. Conquered. But I am happily vanquished.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Chana bhatura eaten at Woodlands, Liverpool

Ooops. Except when you put too many in. It’s only blending the bottom layer: two-thirds of my tomato-onion-spices mix is not getting pulverised. Should have used the food processor.

Turn off. Mix with spoon. Try again.

That’s it! My ingredients twirl in a vortex of chopping. Now I have a jug filled with a pink-red liquid slop. Stick my little finger in and lick. This would be a pretty easy pasta sauce too.

Frying onions, adding chopped tomato, capsicum, my blended sauce along with some more spices. Stir. Add the textured vegetable protein. Yay for TVP!

And ignore for half an hour. You got it, recipe book.

Why is it rude to cut a bread roll with a knife? They never break cleanly down the middle when I tear them. And I want a good pocket cut into these long rolls, or all of my faux mince is going to go everywhere. Well, who cares if it’s uncouth, a knife it is.

Spooning the tomato mixture into the bun, trying to get a balance so it doesn’t spill out the side.

Okay, open wide!

The TVP is as inert as always. It’s job is really just to provide the texture of mince: flavour is not it’s strong point. So that’s a bit bland, but I like the wet stodge of the sauce against the freshness of the bread.

The sauce could use more tomato paste and more chilli powder. I think my conversions to the metric system were a bit off. But in it’s mildness it’s good: the tomato plays off the onion. My favourite bits are the large crunches of capsicum. I can taste the basil too, that’s good.

Overall, not much on taste. Fine, savoury, tomato-y. But once in the embrace of the roll it takes a step up. It’s a filling, satisfying lunch on a wet day. I bet with beef this would be better: the TVP is too timid to be in the spotlight like this.

Sloppy joes are just applying the number one rule when it comes to left-overs: everything tastes better on bread.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Vegan sloppy joes cooked at home

One of the waiters gives me the table directly in front of the door. Suddenly a line begins to queue. Feeling guilty for being one person on a table… oh well.

Flicking through the menu. Bit pointless since I already know what I’m going to order. After reading so much about Malaysian food lately I’m so happy to be trying some. Gotta start with the basics: roti canai.

A different waiter comes to take my order. Okay, pronounce it correctly…

“Are the curries that come with the roti canai vegetarian?”

“One is vegetable. One is fish.”

“Can I have it vegetarian?”

“Okay, two vegetable. Would you like a drink?”

Hmm, I’ll save teh tarik for another day. “No thanks.”

He immediately gets me a bottle of water and a glass. Nice not to have to ask!

Craning neck… I can kind of see into the kitchen. Waiters constructing a tower of green and pink ice. A chef scraping clean a hot plate and getting ready for the next roti.

He’s finished cooking one… but he’s kind of squishing it in from all sides, balling it up before popping it onto a metal tray. Wasn’t expecting that!

The tray heads for me. Oh, I just saw my own roti get done!

The metal tray has two little spaces for curry, both filled with the same wood-brown dahl. And in the main space, my roti.

The original thin rectangle now looks like a shower puff. Parts of the outer flatbread are blistered from cooking, so crisp that it’s splintered through the shaping process, odd angles everywhere. The were-inner-now-everywhere parts are white.

Surely this is not a knife and fork situation? Well, I’m going to use my hands anywho. Too bad I’m facing the wrong way to see how everyone else is eating.

Tugging at one of the angles. This is actually stretchy and soft, despite the dried parts. Ripping. Into my mouth.

It’s warm, soft, stretchy, flaky, crisp. Definitely a little sweet. Buttery but not oily. More like pastry than traditional western-style bread.

Yes, I like it. Yes I do.

Rip off another segment. Steam issues from within the bundle. Dip it into the dahl.

The dhal is like gravy, totally liquid but not watery. Salty, not creamy, a bit of pepper, ginger and mustard.

The contrast of the sweet roti and the salty lentils is delicious. Hard not to make a mess, as the roti is too floppy to hold so it’s really all a dipping process.

Rip, dip, mmm. Rip, dip, yum.

Half-way there. When it first came I wondered if it would be enough for lunch. Now I see it definitely is!

The roti gets chewier and firmer as it cools, getting a little less tasty in the process. Perhaps I am eating too slow? I can fix that!

All gone! Licking my fingers, wiping the dhal away. Standing immediately so the patient people in the queue can have a table.

My first real Malaysian food. Would have been worth a wait.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Roti canai, eaten at Mamek, Haymarket.

Wow, it’s really runny, splashing around in the bottle.

Reading the label.

Oh dear. I thought I’d bought some sort of coriander chutney. Instead I’m holding a bottle labelled ‘pani puri concentrate’.

Turn my head to read the cooking instructions. Add to water, chill and drink?  Oh dear, doesn’t sound at all like a stir-fry ingredient!

Stupid American recipes that ask for things I can’t find…

Pour some of the deep green liquid onto a spoon and taste.

It’s tangy, sour, with a tiny bit of sweetness.

Oh, what the heck, in it goes!

Whoa. I don’t know what food colouring was in that bottle, but some of my tofu is now stained fluro green.

Dishing it out, sitting down with my bowl of stir-fry and thick rice noodles. It’s pretty sloppy and watery, I guess when you add runny liquid to your stir-fry and you don’t let it thicken that’s what you get!

Pungent smells. The glow-in-the-dark tofu is freaking me out.

Taste.

Yes, tangy and tart, a tiny amount of chilli but not enough for warmth. A bit of mint, mostly tastes of tamarind and sugar. Well-rounded really, the pleasant sourness lingering in my mouth.

Don’t think pani puri matches the fat slippery rice noodle, but for some reason the celery loves it up.

It’s got a bit of lift and lightness, and it’s good to have a non-soy wok dish. Don’t know that I’d do it again, but I don’t regret my accident.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Pani puri concentrate bought at the Indian grocery in Macquarie Fields

The first year makes sense: I was in residential college and all my meals came from the kitchen… including that infamous night they served ‘brown’ and no-one could determine what on earth we were actually consuming.

Second year: in a pre-established sharehouse of slightly older, more experienced girls who practiced communal shopping and whose method of saving money was eating cheese on toast all weekend. I thought they were all fabulously mature and wise so eagerly got on board with the group.

Third year: sharehouse of same-age girls, still communal cooking, but dieting was rife and buying something as calorie-laden as instant noodles with the shopping money was not an option.

Fourth year: living alone, cooking large vegetarian meals and then eating the same thing for a week. Why get a saucepan dirty for a single meal?

Also, be honest with yourself: you ate instant noodles. You just preferred the slightly more expensive Nissin brand with sesame oil, served with the broth. Ahh, sesame oil…

Ooops, these noodles must be done now! Tipping them from the saucepan into a sieve, and then into my bowl of pre-mixed seasoning power plus oil, soy sauce and half the chilli sauce. Stir, smearing the noodles with the brown paste until it clings to every curl. Sprinkle with the fried onions.

There, done followed Protestant P’s instructions.

Sitting down. It smells a bit artificial… or perhaps it’s just a smell I’ve not encountered so I assume it’s artificial. Open that mind wider… now open the mouth!

Noodles are cooked well. I love oil-laden instant wheat noodles. Most brands are pretty much the same, so these land dead on the expected average.

The mixed-together sauce is simultaneously oily, sweet, spicy and salty. I guess that’s why it’s so popular. Who can deny the way that sugar and fat calls to the human body?

Do I like it? I don’t dislike it.

Eating it slowly, noodle-by-noodle, trying to work out the devotion of its adherents. The fried onion is more hard than crunchy but isn’t bad for something sealed in foil. There is a bit of an onion flavour, but that’s from the powder and the onion in the oil I think.

The warmth of the chilli hangs in my mouth. Glad I didn’t add the whole sachet of the deep red sauce.

Chewing thoughtfully.

Distracted by article in newspaper.

Back to chewing thoughtfully.

I don’t really get it. The flavour is unctuous but nothing out of this world. And the serve is quite small for a meal in my opinion: no wonder they suggest an egg on top in the picture. I’m still kind of hungry. And I don’t like to still feel hungry after consuming 420 calories. That’s just mean.

I want to like it. All the popular kids do! I feel like a snob, but I’d really rather slurp down my oily sesame broth…

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Indomie Mi Goreng bought at Indian grocery in Macquarie Fields

Thirsty.

Don’t care. Sleep.

Thirsty and need to pee.

Argh.

What’s the time? The Husband suggested a trip to Newtown for breakfast this morning, and I don’t want to be hungry before we leave or I’ll be crankypants by the time we find a parking spot. Crankypants no good for breakfast dates.

Probably time to arise. But soooo waaaaarm…

***

Oo, the table at the window is free, nab a seat and claim the prime people-watching position!

Menu, menu… I always get the pancakes cause they are fantastic, but I really do need to keep extending my wings…

Hmm, vegetarian tortilla? The Husband has talked about how he used to have tortillas for breakfast in Guatemala. Maybe I will try! Weird that it says ‘grilled vegetables’ but not egg – doesn’t sound very Mexican – but okay.

That’s not really a new food though… that’s just eating dinner food at breakfast. I can’t write about that.

But I could get a drink I haven’t had before!

Let’s see… darn it, they all include orange juice… oh, here’s one. ‘Pineapple cocktail, with apple mint and ice’. Er… but I don’t want to get my booze on at 9am…

Asking the waitress; it’s alcohol free! So more of a frappé. All to the good.

She returns with a glass of green. The juice is a light green, lighter than grass but the crayon colour children use to represent it. There are tiny flecks of dark green mint all through it. At least half the glass is a mush of ice and juice, with a bottom story of juice.

Stirring with my straw. Take a sip.

Erk! I think there’s orange juice in it after all. But that wasn’t  listed!

Warily trying again. It’s very tart, that’s certain. But you’re being paranoid. If there were any orange at all in it it would show in the colour. It’s just pineapple. Relax.

Sip again. I like it more now that I don’t think it’s orange.

The pineapple flavour is not as sweet as I’d expect, it really is quite tart. The mint is there in the background but not too strong. There is an apple note in it, perhaps there is green apple in there supplying all the bite.

It’s okay. This is why I don’t normally go for frappés… I just don’t care much for fruit juice. Also, this really needed some really sweet pineapple flavour… maybe it’s the wrong time of year… I do think it is actual fresh from the fruit because I saw her carrying a stack of whole pineapples over to the drinks bay earlier. Can’t complain much if you order a drink out of season.

But good to have my avoidance of frappés confirmed. And now the food arrives.

Blinking at the plate in front of me. Surprising. My tortilla is not the rolled up snack I had imagined, but a giant pile of eggplant and roasted capsicum with melted cheese pizza-style on a tortilla base. A fried egg is perched on top, guacamole and sour cream to the side.

I really don’t think that mediteranian-style eggplant and capsicum should even be in a breakfast tortilla, let alone make up the bulk. Or they should at least be on the menu! And funny that there is an egg when it wasn’t listed, though I am happy about that…

Taste. Well, it tastes fine, it tastes like mediterranean vegetables. Not really what I wanted at this hour.

Um, but the more I eat the more I know that I am going to stuff myself silly. Because I’ve got the taste for it now… and I hate to waste… nomnomnom…

The Husband drinks the rest of my frappé for me so I don’t have to be sad about it going to waste, even though he’s not much of a fan either. So nice to me!

Very full… would not order either of those again… wish things were more accurately described on the menu… but a satisfied stomach nonetheless, and a lovely start to the day with my love.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Pineapple cocktail and vegetarian tortilla eaten at Corelli’s Café, Newtown

Flex and stretch my digits, hands buried deep in my pockets against the cold. Plodding wearily up the hill as the wind whips by me. The evening is turning into night.

It doesn’t take much cold to make the veins of the top of that finger clamp down. Maybe I should find the mittens I wore in Mongolia for the evening walk home from work.

What should I have for dinner? The Husband is out. I had tofu satay with rice for lunch so I could use some vegetables. Coupled with the weather, seems like a warming bowl of vegetable soup could be just the ticket.

Out of the shower, wrapped in my daggy dressing gown, head in the cupboard. Which one to try? Sweet potato and pumpkin? Sweet potato and pumpkin.

Tugging the ring-top pull. Inside the soup is orange with occasional large brown flecks of nutmeg. Pouring it into the bowl: the thick puree flows easily. Paper towel over the top of the bowl, into the microwave.

Sitting down at the table. Get ready to be comfort food, soup!

Hm. The taste of Japanese pumpkin comes through much stronger than the sweet potato, but its too sugary-sweet. Checking the can. Yup, brown sugar. Coupled with cinnamon and nutmeg it tastes more like runny pumpkin pie than a traditional soup.

I wonder why they went down this route? I would have been happier with savoury flavour, perhaps with a cumin or lemongrass flavour.

It’s okay. The texture is good: smooth but not watery. But too sweet! It’s spoiling my stomach for dessert! Okay, I guess nothing would really do that, but still.

Soup should be healthy and nourishing, not sugary.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Heinz Very Vegetable Sweet Potato & Pumpkin Soup, bought at Coles, Macquarie Fields

It’s kind of unusual that my mother-in-law doesn’t have a habitual breakfast cereal. I think she just buys the next packet based on what is on sale at the time. No repetitive mornings for her!

So no way we know in advance what will be available when we turn up.

The Husband pours the last of the muesli into his bowl, so that’s out. What else…

A giant box proclaiming its magical properties of HIGH FIBRE!! HIGH IRON!! GUARANTEED WHOLEGRAIN!! Sure, you’ll do. Don’t think you sucked me into your claims, mind, it’s just that nothing else looks very interesting.

Snip open the inner plastic packet. Pour it into the bowl.

Oh, it’s not muesli-ish at all, like I’d assumed, it’s mostly giant flakes like in Sultana Bran, with the occasional sultana and strange white bits. Check the box. Oh, okay, the weird things are ‘yoghurt covered currants’.

Splash in the milk, bit of a stir to get it all wet, carry it to the back patio where my father-in-law is talked about 3D television.

The flakes are so large it’s hard to get them to stay on my teaspoon. I suppose this is why people use regular spoons for most foods. But teaspoons allow so much more time to savour…

Crunch. The flakes snap apart in my mouth, quickly becoming a gummy bran splodge. A vague malt flavour. Very normal, no unwelcome morning surprises.

Hunt down a currant. The yoghurt coating looks so odd… like the dried fruit was dipped in a vat of tiny sticky white balls which now bubble around it in a strange force-field. Bite. The yoghurt crumbles away quickly, instantly a milky powder. The currant is sweet but gone in a moment. Huh.

Find a sultana.

Oh no, they’re those terribly wizzined sultanas. No plumpness or moisture, just an intense sweetness than gets jammed solidly into the crevices of molars. It’s so irritating having to pick these things out of my teeth, they’re a mockery of true juicy soft sultanas.

Well, I wouldn’t buy it myself, but I do feel somewhat ashamed at my same-every-single-day bowl of weet-bix with sultanas and pepitas. Though eating bran flakes with dried sultanas and chemical-yoghurt currants does make me feel confident that at least my rut is a decent one.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Specifics: Uncle Tobys Plus Sultanas ‘n Bran, bought who knows where…