Surfing never sucks
Posts tagged ‘I never knew a surfer who could cook’
Fresh Lobster omelet, mace, red peppercorns and garlic chives at Crowdy Head, August 1958, 5.40 pm.
Then they all disappeared over the dunes for every hour of sunlight that the sky allowed them. Away to the distance, that curved sweep of trackless beach.
Heard this low growl about 2 am and looked out of the tent, saw a bloody feral cat sitting by the fire - big bastard.
Leave town and travel the darkening highway until you reach the coast. South is best. Park amongst the mosquitoes and casuarinas .. a recipe
Why being a surfer and a cook helps with the ladies
A famished bricklayer, who has little objection to the taste of his own bitten down and encrusted fingernails, will hurl an untasted fresh baked steak and onion pie to the ground in a fury at having to consider eating the unordered onions. A cautionary tale about life in a building site.
We were sitting around the table in the Rose Bay Hotel with Scoresby and a couple of hard faced Maoris watching the races and waiting on a feed of Singapore noodles, a specialty of Mr. Ngyuen, Charles.
Nice chap Charles, seasons his chips with garlic and chopped chives
Frank introduced us to the River the day after we took him home from the Harrington pub, the day he had been beaten insensible by the three dark men who had travelled up from Sydney looking for the local plantation. Three bikers.