It was piping hot. The brie nested in the middle of the crusty, crunchy sourdough garlic bread was gooey and runny. And the French champagne was ice cold. Dinner last night was divine.
You see, the Retired Husband (TRH) and I went to Adelaide Central Markets yesterday. It’s a wonderful, colourful, busy, noisy and delicious smelling explosion of food, people and cultures. At this point I need to make it clear that TRH has a horror and aversion to places that are busy and noisy. He avoids them like the plague. I mentioned last week I was planning a trip to the market. Given his aversion to such excursions, I was hesitantly surprised when he volunteered to tag along. And even more so, when the day dawned and he did!
Getting there was ‘interesting’. Adelaide is full of road works. Everywhere you go. Delays, traffic snarls, single lanes where there are usually double or triple. To add to the expected horror of navigating through all that, currently the greater metropolis of Adelaide is being showered with exploding and imploding underground water pipes = traffic chaos. In order to avoid known pitfalls TRH took a slightly different route to the market. Only to discover when we arrived in the CBD that we could not turn into the main entrance of the markets from our side of the road. Our mistake, not road works or imploding waterworks. In order to get to an enter-able entrance, we had to take a ten minute detour through the CBD. The city council in it’s wisdom is discouraging car traffic to the central area of Adelaide for greening purposes. It means there are all sorts of devious lane markings and discouragings along the way to make CBD driving an unpleasant experience. Should this latest endeavour from the powers that be succeed, the CBD will become – an empty green.
It was at this point, I could feel TRH’s marketing fervour, tenuous as it was, beginning to waiver. This was not going according to the (in his head) plan of ‘in-and-out-and-home-in-ten-minutes’ kind of outing. The fervour became even more ‘waiverer’ when the multi-level car park appeared to be FULL. By then we were immersed in it. Driving around in circles in it. Looking for vacant spots in it. Audible mumbling could be heard. I believe it was something not repeatable along the lines of ‘why don’t people stay at home where they belong so I can shop in peace and find a park right by the door’.
We did find a park quite quickly in fact. And I said so. TRH looked at me in horror. By then we had been waiting for a young gentleman who seemed to be on the verge of leaving having packed his shopping in, climbed into the car and turned it on. He was busy on his phone. For ages. Another not so young (could even have been retired) gentleman arrived. His car was parked right next to where we were impatiently waiting for the young gentleman to depart. The old gentleman left in no time at all. He was probably one of those ‘in-and-out-and-home-in-ten- minutes’ types. As TRH pulled into the newly vacant spot, the young gentleman left having just been joined by his lady friend who had obviously still had some important shopping to do.
Thankfully our car was parked within a sixty second walk to the escalator. Things were beginning to look up. I could feel a definite lightening of mood in TRH. I had brought my trusty tartan bag lady marketing trolley with me. It was time, I decided, that TRH immersed himself fully in the marketing experience. After a bit of grumbling and muttering about looking like some old retired man (which I reminded him he was) he managed to navigate the perils of the maddening crowds quite adroitly.
Having purchased the non-food toxin free items I had on my list from the Honey and Soap Shoppe (the main purpose of this trip for me) we wandered around looking for lunch. We found Al Mina Mediterranean Central. The freshly baked and filled zaatar flat bread was delicious. As was the coffee. (Side note: TRH had kindly bought me a mug of latte. It already had a double shot in it, but he thoughtfully asked for another shot. That is why I started reading the paper and blogging at 4am this morning as my eyes and my brain would not close down.)
TRH by now was humming happily. Apart from the squishy jellyfishy black lump on the back of his hand which he showed me. He’d knocked it on the corner of an A-frame display thingy earlier. Being a retired nurse extraordinaire, I pulled out my little emergency first aid kit and lathered the back of his hand with lavender essential oil. By the time we got home, the swelling was gone, and the bruising was markedly less severe. Even TRH, the eternal skeptic glass half empty type of guy, had to admit it worked.
We detoured down lanes and by-ways through the market on our way back to the car. The trolley was laden with assorted cold meats, wood oven baked rye breads, smelly cheeses and the like. Yum! I had planned dinner in advance – crusty crunchy brie nested sourdough garlic bread.
Top left – native Australian warrigal spinach which grows profusely and happily in my orchard, parsley, rosemary.
Top right – local Barossa Valley brie and crusty, crunchy sourdough bread loaf
Bottom left – bread ready for the oven having been cut into ready to pull apart bits, a hole cut for the brie (top of which is sliced off), brushed over with a mix of olive oil, garlic, salt and parsley, spinach pushed into the cuts, and gently dusted (TRH’s request) with freshly ground green pepper
Bottom right – oven ready. Heat in 200C oven half an hour.
Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the smelly cheese we bought. It REALLY stinks !
© Raili Tanska
Thanks to AlluringEby who nominated me for a 3 day quote challenge.
This is Day 2.
Simple rules for this challenge are to post 1 – 3 quotes a day for three days.
And pass the challenge on to three others :