I Wish Lunch Could Last Forever
I had arrived in Sydney the previous morning, but was so jet lagged, I didn’t really enjoy it. I spent the most of day sleeping at Manly Beach. The few hours I was awake, I had a horrible headache and everything looked blurry. Unable to stay awake any more, I fell asleep at my hotel before dinner and slept straight through until the following morning.
Feeling much better, I spent the cool autumn morning putting lots of money into the Australia economy at The Rocks Farmers’ Market. Although it’s called a “farmer’s market,” the main produce on display was crafts and souvenirs for tourists and collectors. The market was only three city blocks, but it was full of vendors with all sorts of crafts ranging from the expected, like hand-painted Aboriginal boomerangs, to the artfully useful, such the hand-sewn photo album and scrapbook I purchased. Also present were hand-carved wooden picture frames and many, many works of art, from water colors to charcoal sketches. There were some food vendors, selling hand made jams, sauces and candies, but since you couldn’t take any food product out of the country, I couldn’t buy any to take back with me.
After spending most of my cash, I strolled around Sydney Harbor on the bridge side. I was at the traffic circle I’d seen on TheRocks.com web cam, the one surrounded by flag poles with no flags. The brick steps curve around the harbor toward a series of four restaurants before changing to a wooden boardwalk in front the Park Hyatt Hotel. The Hyatt was curved to fit in to its unique spot on the harbor. It didn’t look all that large a hotel; it looked more like expensive condos, which is what I thought they were when I first saw them on the web cam. The green space at the tip of the hotel’s peninsula was a public park and several people, in couples or small families, lay about soaking up sunshine and salt air. The park was surrounded by a stately wrought iron fence that had far more detailing and care put it than it should have, but these details make Sydney Harbor so special.
As I walked back down the Hyatt’s boardwalk, a woman in a black pantsuit and jet black hair leaned on her hotel balcony smoking a cigarette. I had heard that the Park Hyatt was the most expensive hotel in Sydney, if not all of Australia. I wondered, why was she there? Was it an anniversary, birthday? Secret affair? Or just business?
As I walked back around to the traffic circle women with baby strollers and couples holding hands began to take up spots along the brick steps. The restaurants that lined the old building were now open and seating guests. Families were taking photos of their kids running around the plaza. Although the fall air was cool, the sun kept me warm. The locals wore long sleeve tops and jackets while I was in my short sleeve t-shirt, my jacket tied around my waist.
What attracted me to Doyle’s Café was the crisp white umbrellas that shaded the bright blue tablecloths that covered the patio tables. I had walked all around the old warehouse that had been converted into modern dining establishments and none of them had the appeal or the envious location on the end of the quay, like Doyle’s. While waiting for the hostess I read the menu posted on the wall. This was not going to be cheap, but how often do I get to eat lunch in Sydney Harbor? The hostess asked if I wanted to sit outside to which I replied, “Please.”
I was seated in the middle of the patio, not under an umbrella, which was OK. After two straight meals of fish and chips, I wanted to eat something that was not breaded and fried so I browsed the menu carefully and there were many expensive dishes, almost all them seafood. That’s when a disturbing thought hit me. I had not brought my VISA card and didn’t know if the café took American Express. I had spent almost all of my cash at the Farmers’ Market only having about $26 AUD left. I was just about to panic when something on the menu caught my eye, Pasta and Prawns for $23. It even came with garlic bread.
My waitress was a young, friendly Asian woman with shiny dark hair. She told me they had iced tea when I asked, something I had trouble finding at other Sydney restaurants. After ordering I looked around and looming in front of me was the Sydney Opera House. That’s when it hit me…I was in Australia!!!!!!! It took me twenty years to get here and I wanted to jump up on top of the table and scream at the top of my lungs. I had to grab the edges of my chair to keep from doing so. I smiled and decided I had to share this moment with someone so I pulled out my phone and began texting everyone I knew. The time on my cell phone, stuck in the Pacific Time Zone, reminded me it was 2 a.m. in the states. I didn’t care and sent a message anyway. It said, “Having lunch across from the opera house. Miss you.” Figuring everyone would be asleep, I didn’t expect any replies, however, I did receive a reply from my brother, Chad, in Oklahoma. It said he was cleaning up after a party and he’d get back to me later. Hmmm.
I managed to calm down enough to take in the view around me. The opera house just towered over everything. Also in front of me was a harbor walk that ended in a corner that overlooked the entire harbor, prime spot for photo opportunities and many, many people took advantage of it. Checking my surroundings, at the table on my left sat a man, a woman and a younger woman (daughter perhaps?). A wine bucket with a half empty bottle was between the women. Further away on my right one woman with perfectly coifed gray hair sat at a table set for six. She appeared to be giving instructions I couldn’t hear to the waiter, pointing her fingers around the table as she sat down. Next to them, a table with two Asian girls was receiving their meal. One of the girls had a huge plate of seafood set in front of her, enough to feed a half dozen people. It was beautifully arranged with strange fire engine red shellfish. Stacked vertically, as if standing up, were what looked like a giant prawns complete with heads and antennae, on top of some leafy green things. Mussels were circled around the red and green shrine. Instead of eating it, they took photos. Then they giggled as she began to pick at the dish, not sure where to start. On my far left at the edge of the patio a young couple sipped from tea cups and talked leaning in close to each other.
Just as I was beginning to wonder where my own lunch was, my waitress returned with a large white bowl filled with pasta and the largest prawns I had ever seen. I was so hungry and lunch was sooooo gooooood, I had to force myself to eat slowly. The dish was simple, six gigantic prawns grilled in garlic butter. Underneath was pasta, (a type somewhere between spaghetti and angel hair, not too thick, but not skinny either) with sprinkles of herbs and drizzled in more garlic butter. I did my best to savor the melting, velvety, buttery, garlicky, wish-it-were-bottomless dish. I was trying to remember the lyrics to a Jimmy Buffet song, I Wish Lunch Could Last Forever. Although the song was actually about Paris, I felt some of it applied here. The lone woman at the table of six was joined by five more people, one of whom was a gentleman with a booming British accent and he held up a guidebook of Sydney to show everyone at the table. When I had finished the pasta and prawns, I didn’t want to leave just yet, so I requested another glass of iced tea, even though it was starting to get chilly with the sun disappearing behind some clouds. Lingering as long as I could, I drank every last drop of tea. Although it seemed only minutes had past, it was a little before two o’clock in the afternoon. I had managed to while away two whole hours.
As I requested my check, I asked the waitress if Doyle’s took American Express. Of course, they didn’t. I had no choice, but to use what was left of my cash. I lingered a few more seconds putting on my jacket and slowly made my way to the patio exit, which looked across the harbor to the opera house. I had finally made it to Sydney.
I wish lunch could last forever
Make the whole day one big afternoon
We’ll begin with dessert, a little coconut tart
Tastes as sweet as a piece of your heart --J. Buffett
Update – Before putting this article on the internet, I wanted to see if anything had changed in the three years since I’ve been there (as any good journalist would do). After some internet research, I discovered the restaurant was now called Peter Doyle @ the Quay and, wouldn’t you know, they took American Express. I checked the menu on the website and the closest dish I can find to what I had was simply called “Pasta” under Main Courses. It listed red capsicum linguini with prawns, garlic, chilli and cream for $29.50 (AUD).
http://www.peterdoyleatthequay.com/
In other information, http://www.therocks.com/ website doesn’t seem to work anymore. The web cam was awesome!!! Real time views of Sydney Harbor with a camera you could control for two minutes at a time. I used to pull it up as soon as I got to work to see the night time skyline and watch tomorrow’s sun rise over the harbor later in the day. The web cam went down shortly after I returned to the states (back in June 2006) and then the website itself disappeared some time after that. The link still appears on Yahoo web searches, but the browser can’t display anything. For more information on The Rocks Farmer’s Market, try this link:
I had arrived in Sydney the previous morning, but was so jet lagged, I didn’t really enjoy it. I spent the most of day sleeping at Manly Beach. The few hours I was awake, I had a horrible headache and everything looked blurry. Unable to stay awake any more, I fell asleep at my hotel before dinner and slept straight through until the following morning.
Feeling much better, I spent the cool autumn morning putting lots of money into the Australia economy at The Rocks Farmers’ Market. Although it’s called a “farmer’s market,” the main produce on display was crafts and souvenirs for tourists and collectors. The market was only three city blocks, but it was full of vendors with all sorts of crafts ranging from the expected, like hand-painted Aboriginal boomerangs, to the artfully useful, such the hand-sewn photo album and scrapbook I purchased. Also present were hand-carved wooden picture frames and many, many works of art, from water colors to charcoal sketches. There were some food vendors, selling hand made jams, sauces and candies, but since you couldn’t take any food product out of the country, I couldn’t buy any to take back with me.
After spending most of my cash, I strolled around Sydney Harbor on the bridge side. I was at the traffic circle I’d seen on TheRocks.com web cam, the one surrounded by flag poles with no flags. The brick steps curve around the harbor toward a series of four restaurants before changing to a wooden boardwalk in front the Park Hyatt Hotel. The Hyatt was curved to fit in to its unique spot on the harbor. It didn’t look all that large a hotel; it looked more like expensive condos, which is what I thought they were when I first saw them on the web cam. The green space at the tip of the hotel’s peninsula was a public park and several people, in couples or small families, lay about soaking up sunshine and salt air. The park was surrounded by a stately wrought iron fence that had far more detailing and care put it than it should have, but these details make Sydney Harbor so special.
As I walked back down the Hyatt’s boardwalk, a woman in a black pantsuit and jet black hair leaned on her hotel balcony smoking a cigarette. I had heard that the Park Hyatt was the most expensive hotel in Sydney, if not all of Australia. I wondered, why was she there? Was it an anniversary, birthday? Secret affair? Or just business?
As I walked back around to the traffic circle women with baby strollers and couples holding hands began to take up spots along the brick steps. The restaurants that lined the old building were now open and seating guests. Families were taking photos of their kids running around the plaza. Although the fall air was cool, the sun kept me warm. The locals wore long sleeve tops and jackets while I was in my short sleeve t-shirt, my jacket tied around my waist.
What attracted me to Doyle’s Café was the crisp white umbrellas that shaded the bright blue tablecloths that covered the patio tables. I had walked all around the old warehouse that had been converted into modern dining establishments and none of them had the appeal or the envious location on the end of the quay, like Doyle’s. While waiting for the hostess I read the menu posted on the wall. This was not going to be cheap, but how often do I get to eat lunch in Sydney Harbor? The hostess asked if I wanted to sit outside to which I replied, “Please.”
I was seated in the middle of the patio, not under an umbrella, which was OK. After two straight meals of fish and chips, I wanted to eat something that was not breaded and fried so I browsed the menu carefully and there were many expensive dishes, almost all them seafood. That’s when a disturbing thought hit me. I had not brought my VISA card and didn’t know if the café took American Express. I had spent almost all of my cash at the Farmers’ Market only having about $26 AUD left. I was just about to panic when something on the menu caught my eye, Pasta and Prawns for $23. It even came with garlic bread.
My waitress was a young, friendly Asian woman with shiny dark hair. She told me they had iced tea when I asked, something I had trouble finding at other Sydney restaurants. After ordering I looked around and looming in front of me was the Sydney Opera House. That’s when it hit me…I was in Australia!!!!!!! It took me twenty years to get here and I wanted to jump up on top of the table and scream at the top of my lungs. I had to grab the edges of my chair to keep from doing so. I smiled and decided I had to share this moment with someone so I pulled out my phone and began texting everyone I knew. The time on my cell phone, stuck in the Pacific Time Zone, reminded me it was 2 a.m. in the states. I didn’t care and sent a message anyway. It said, “Having lunch across from the opera house. Miss you.” Figuring everyone would be asleep, I didn’t expect any replies, however, I did receive a reply from my brother, Chad, in Oklahoma. It said he was cleaning up after a party and he’d get back to me later. Hmmm.
I managed to calm down enough to take in the view around me. The opera house just towered over everything. Also in front of me was a harbor walk that ended in a corner that overlooked the entire harbor, prime spot for photo opportunities and many, many people took advantage of it. Checking my surroundings, at the table on my left sat a man, a woman and a younger woman (daughter perhaps?). A wine bucket with a half empty bottle was between the women. Further away on my right one woman with perfectly coifed gray hair sat at a table set for six. She appeared to be giving instructions I couldn’t hear to the waiter, pointing her fingers around the table as she sat down. Next to them, a table with two Asian girls was receiving their meal. One of the girls had a huge plate of seafood set in front of her, enough to feed a half dozen people. It was beautifully arranged with strange fire engine red shellfish. Stacked vertically, as if standing up, were what looked like a giant prawns complete with heads and antennae, on top of some leafy green things. Mussels were circled around the red and green shrine. Instead of eating it, they took photos. Then they giggled as she began to pick at the dish, not sure where to start. On my far left at the edge of the patio a young couple sipped from tea cups and talked leaning in close to each other.
Just as I was beginning to wonder where my own lunch was, my waitress returned with a large white bowl filled with pasta and the largest prawns I had ever seen. I was so hungry and lunch was sooooo gooooood, I had to force myself to eat slowly. The dish was simple, six gigantic prawns grilled in garlic butter. Underneath was pasta, (a type somewhere between spaghetti and angel hair, not too thick, but not skinny either) with sprinkles of herbs and drizzled in more garlic butter. I did my best to savor the melting, velvety, buttery, garlicky, wish-it-were-bottomless dish. I was trying to remember the lyrics to a Jimmy Buffet song, I Wish Lunch Could Last Forever. Although the song was actually about Paris, I felt some of it applied here. The lone woman at the table of six was joined by five more people, one of whom was a gentleman with a booming British accent and he held up a guidebook of Sydney to show everyone at the table. When I had finished the pasta and prawns, I didn’t want to leave just yet, so I requested another glass of iced tea, even though it was starting to get chilly with the sun disappearing behind some clouds. Lingering as long as I could, I drank every last drop of tea. Although it seemed only minutes had past, it was a little before two o’clock in the afternoon. I had managed to while away two whole hours.
As I requested my check, I asked the waitress if Doyle’s took American Express. Of course, they didn’t. I had no choice, but to use what was left of my cash. I lingered a few more seconds putting on my jacket and slowly made my way to the patio exit, which looked across the harbor to the opera house. I had finally made it to Sydney.
I wish lunch could last forever
Make the whole day one big afternoon
We’ll begin with dessert, a little coconut tart
Tastes as sweet as a piece of your heart --J. Buffett
Update – Before putting this article on the internet, I wanted to see if anything had changed in the three years since I’ve been there (as any good journalist would do). After some internet research, I discovered the restaurant was now called Peter Doyle @ the Quay and, wouldn’t you know, they took American Express. I checked the menu on the website and the closest dish I can find to what I had was simply called “Pasta” under Main Courses. It listed red capsicum linguini with prawns, garlic, chilli and cream for $29.50 (AUD).
http://www.peterdoyleatthequay.com/
In other information, http://www.therocks.com/ website doesn’t seem to work anymore. The web cam was awesome!!! Real time views of Sydney Harbor with a camera you could control for two minutes at a time. I used to pull it up as soon as I got to work to see the night time skyline and watch tomorrow’s sun rise over the harbor later in the day. The web cam went down shortly after I returned to the states (back in June 2006) and then the website itself disappeared some time after that. The link still appears on Yahoo web searches, but the browser can’t display anything. For more information on The Rocks Farmer’s Market, try this link:
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