Fellowship of Eating

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22741, 29 May 1937, Page 6 (Supplement)

Fellowship of Eating

By CHRISTINE COMBER

" r PHERE is nothing which has yet been contrived by man by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn." So said Dr. Johnson, 18th century writer and philosopher, and people of all nationalities, echoing this sentiment, lose no time after their arrival in a strange country in finding a club, restaurant or cafe where they may dine on their accustomed viands. An Englishman will comb Jerusalem or Constantinople for roast beef and plum pudding; a Frenchman will find snails and frogs' legs though the cost be wellnigh bankruptcy: an Italian will make his ravioli himself if he cannot get it elsewhere —and probably start a lucrative gathering-place for other Latin exiles. German and Italian Restaurants Sydney, in many respects, so colonial and decorous, has a cosmopolitan soul. Tucked away in alleys and arcades, up narrow, winding stairways, behind doors bearing cryptic foreign hieroglyphics, are some of the most colourful and fascinating corners of the city—its foreign clubs and restaurants. The threshold crossed, one finds oneself in a strange, new and vaguely exciting world. Outside, the familiar crowds of Sydney stream endlessly by; but here silent men with sad, brooding faces, or roluble men with bright eyes and sallow complexions, or care-free girls and gesticulating women converse in strange tongues and dine on stranger dishes. At the Concordia Club, where the Germans of Sydney foregather, you may experience inueh of the thrill of travel without the discomfort of wondering if your physiognomy would pass the Aryan test. Here you eat sauerkraut and drink what is surely the best beer in the world. On social occasions the building rings to the robust rhythm of old German drinking-songs, until the most self-conscious visitor is infected with the spontaneous gaiety. Italians abroad, whether they are Fascists or not, are proud of their ancient Roman heritage. And so they, too, form clubs to which they may go when a yearning comes over them to hear the familiar accents of "Buon giorno" instead of "How do you do?" At any of the Italian cafes and restaurants, daily meeting places for the Latin people, you may, beginning with ministrone and ending with zabaglione, traverse half a continent on the wings of imagination before the meal is over. Ravioli, polpettini, schnitzels, spaghetti, risotto —the waiter will help with the identity of the various dishes if the visitor appears at sea; or you may have an omelette according to taste —■ Portuguese, Parmesan, Pimento, Spanish, or au rum ; or any of the veal dishes which, with various trimmings, form the solid basis for Italian cooking. The Charm ol the East To sample Chinese cooking is not of necessity synonymous with partaking of birds' nest soup and sharks' fins. Chinese food, which some travellers consider the finest in the world, is tasty and of infinite variety. Campbell Street, the centre of Sydney's metropolitan Chinese quarter, is punctuated along its whole length with Chinese cafes and shops with menus promising lavish fare —frequently at prodigious prices—of unknown and impossible sounding viands. Darlinghurst, the heart of Bohemia, has its Chinese cafes, too, where for a moderate price the European or colonial may satisfy his curiosity as to the identity of Cho Yee, Pin Mm or Cho Goo Hong. Here he may dine on steamed fish, garnished with preserved pickles, ginger and onions; on noodles, braized with

foreign cafes in cosmopolitan SYDNEY

chicken, mushrooms and bamboo shoots; on fried prawn fritters; on chop suey or plain rice. Here, too, he learns that Siti Sin, Ooloong and Look On are light tea, medium tea, and dark tea respectively. And all the time he hears the high-pitched, curiously sing-song tongue of the Chinese. It is a far cry from China to Greece, but by merely traversing a street or two you find yourself in modern Greece —a Greece that has in far-away Sydney become passionately clubconscious. The food is characterised by good cooking, much oil and exceedingly reasonable prices. In the coffee-lounge these strangers in a new land sit around and talk of home and world affairs, or play card games and a Greek kind of backgammon. With the Russians you may eat caviare and drink vodka —pale, potent and breath-taking—and rub shoulders with pre-revolution aristocrats who now wrest a living from such prosaic occupations as hairdressing or taxi-driving. The French can always be relied on for culinary perfection. On their tables are set dishes never before encountered in a lifetime of gastronomic exploration. For your French chef is a creative artist who is never content to rely on some one else's recipe. Then beg and cajole one of your friends some time to get you an invitation to a Japanese "evening," with the sound of the three-stringed "samisen," and the taste of. "sukiyaki" and "shiosembei" and straw-coloured tea drunk without sugar or milk, you will be transported in a trice to the land of chrysanthemums and cherry blossoms.