WHAT’S COOKIN’, GOOD LOOKIN’? CHAPTER TWO...WHOO-HOO!

My older brother Graham and I had been raised to have good table manners  we were taught to have good manners in all instances), but knowing how to conduct one’s self at the dinner table didn’t mean I didn’t suffer from nerves when I first began to dine out.  

As a child the only times I dined outside our home were at the birthday parties of friends, around a campfire or in the club house when I was a Brownie and Girl Guide (or in our own yard on Guy Fawkes Night). Also on Saturday nights when strolling along Mary Street, Gympie window shopping with my Nana and Graham after we'd followed the kilted Gympie Scots’ Pipe Band as they played and marched down the main street.   

The pipe band came to a halt at the Memorial Gates...and, conveniently, very conveniently, next to the Gates was “Nick’s Fish & Chips” shop!  It was then when fish & chips-eating-in-public-good manners came into effect.

Wrapped snugly in newspaper, much finesse was applied to extract the golden potato chips and crispy-battered fish from their classy swathe. Even more finesse was required to find those few elusive chips and crispy bits of batter that hid at the bottom of the folds.   

The licking of one’s fingers was allowed, if done with artful delicacy and discretion.

In those days, before I left Gympie in 1965 to live and work in the city of Brisbane, dining out in restaurants wasn’t in vogue; primarily because there were no restaurants in Gympie back in the Fifties and early Sixties.   

The only “formal” dining venues available to the public were the Dorith Coffee Lounge, various cafés and the dining rooms of the local pubs.  The cafés were far more modest and humble than today’s cafés. They were places where you could indulge in a golden meat pie with mushy peas and mashed spuds while sipping on a tall glass of icy-cold Cherry Cola or a Golden Circle Pineapple juice. Tea or coffee, if so inclined, were more the inclinations of the older generations. 

As it was, the Dorith Coffee Lounge didn’t arrive on the scene until the early Sixties. It no longer exists. Back in the day, I enjoyed many a toasted cheese, ham and tomato sandwich there, with glasses of apricot or peach nectar to help wash the sandwiches down.

I’ve written previously about the small parties/gatherings my friends and I enjoyed when we were teenagers and our weekends spent at the coast. We first explored the beaches at Mooloolaba, Alexandra Headlands, and not as frequently, Maroochydore, before we settled on the best (and nearest) - Noosa Heads and Sunshine Beach, with the odd visits to Peregian and Coolum when we could hitch a ride or were offered one, 

During those weekends and our mid-week gatherings I somehow was the one who donned the apron; not that I complained.  I enjoyed doing so.

From those simple beginnings and environs, however, not only had my taste buds been alerted to all sorts of interesting fare, but the cooking and hosting seeds were planted. My love of restaurants was born; and more particularly, what went on in the kitchens of those restaurants!  What went on behind the scenes intrigued me. I was fascinated.  I began reading as much material I could lay my hands on; and I laid my hands on a lot!

After spending the first five years of my working life as a legal secretary in a Gympie law firm, I spent my first six or seven weeks in Brisbane doing similar work for a city law firm, but I soon tired of the taking dictation; typing page after page on the troubles of others.  I was in search of something different; and from attending a party one Saturday evening, I found it.  

To my mother and grandmother's despair (they were back in Gympie), but even more so, my older brother Graham's displeasure, I left my legal secretary role to take up a position within the fashion industry (the Queensland office, showrooms and warehouse of a national company). There I remained for the next 14 years.  

At the time of my switching jobs, Graham threatened to come down to Brisbane (he was then living in Mackay, in North Queensland), and, in his words: "Drag me back home to Gympie!"  

That I should dare change jobs within such a short period after having remained with my first employers, in Gympie, for five years was beyond Graham's comprehension of what his "little" sister should be doing.  That I was 20 years old made no difference to him...to him I was still a little kid!   

He never did drag me back to Gympie, by the way.  And I told him, holding nothing back, to mind his own business!

In my new job, I became secretary to the Queensland Manager, as well as taking on the mantle of Office Manageress, and later, States Sales Coordinator. For our promotional evenings, which we held three or four times a year, when launching new lines, the company hired caterers to cater for our retail buyers; those buyers included the major department stores such as Myer and David Jones.

All the time, my inner, latent “chef” was biting at the bit; rearing to be let loose! I could no longer deny its demands.  My desire to lash out kept nagging at me.

Frequently, I used to host and cater my own private dinner parties within my own home.  Rarely a Saturday night went by that I didn’t have guests sitting around my dinner table...or some kind of party going on.

Early 1969, a few months after my first husband and I separated, to earn some extra money, I obtained a part-time, casual evening job waiting on tables at “The Pelican Tavern”, an eatery in St. Paul’s Terrace, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane! 

Initially, I was to work only Friday and Saturday evenings, but in time, when required, I often worked five nights a week. I was in my element!  I loved it!

With keen interest, I watched, questioned and learned so much from Kyriol Wypow, the owner/chef.  He was a dedicated, self-taught chef/cook. 

Mr. Wypow recognised my interest wasn't superficial. He became a willing teacher; and a good friend. 

I loved teasing him...and he enjoyed my teasing; it was more baiting, than teasing, probably.  It was a two-way street,

The other waitresses were in awe of him (and a little fearful), but I wasn’t. I could see through his sometimes serious, abrasive exterior.  His eyes were dead give-aways.  The mischievous glint that always lurked was obvious to me.  He never fooled me; and he enjoyed the games of cat and mouse we played. 

Mr. Wypow originally came from Kiev, the capital of Ukraine. It was in remembrance of the numerous pelicans that inhabited the area around the Dnieper River the tavern was christened as such. 

Kiev was caught up in the turbulence of the Russian Revolution.  Kyriol Wypow wanted no part of the Soviet Union; of  communism. Therefore in 1920 or 1921 he packed his swag. Alone, he trekked his way south through Turkey, ending up in Australia. His first port of call was South Australia.  A few years later he wended his way up to south-east Queensland.

With his own hands, blood, sweat, and probably no tears, he personally built the tavern from the ground up. He was deservedly proud of his achievement.  He was married to a lovely lady who had her own hairdressing salon in the inner city.

Mr. Wypow was a fine, intelligent man.  And one I’ve always felt honoured to have known.  He taught me so much, and not only about cooking. His knowledge on most subjects was vast.

One day I approached my boss (of my day job) with a grand plan I’d concocted. Being agreeable to my idea he, in turn, approached Head Office in Sydney.  Without hesitation, they agreed to what we’d put before them. 

I believed I could do a better job for our promotional evenings than the commercial caterers who handled the company’s needs.

One is filled with bravado when one is younger!  Taking the dive off the deep end, my eyes were open, even if my heart was pounding.  But, I did believe in myself (as far as the catering was concerned, at least); and with that determination, in the first place, I refused to let myself down, or others thereafter!   I didn’t belly flop – thank goodness!

Under the banner of “John Galt Distributors” I would cater for the company’s future Brisbane promotional evenings.  No longer requiring the services of the catering company we had been using, I would purchase, prepare, serve, and then invoice our Sydney Head Office for the job performed.  The company would pay John Galt Distributors, which was, in fact, me.   

My little “company” was so named in honour of Ayn Rand’s protagonist in “Atlas Shrugged”.  Ayn Rand, herself, of course, in 1926 at the tender age of 21 years, moved to the United States from Russia.  She left her family behind, but over the ensuing years she made many attempts to bring her parents and sisters to the States, but permission was never granted for them emigrate.

I was on my way – still with many roads ahead - all of which at that point in time were still unknown - to explore, but on my way, nonetheless. Not in my wildest imagination would I’ve envisaged what lay ahead for me.

However, my first steps had been taken in the professional food industry...steps for which I would be paid, no less!   

So much to learn...and so much fun to be had in the learning...and doing.

Let the games begin!

Lamb Shashliks: Dice 500g lamb, into approx 1-1/2 inch square pieces.  Cut onions into wedges; separate the pieces of onion (the onion pieces should be about 1-inch to 1-1/2 inches in size). Cut a red capsicum, a green capsicum and a yellow capsicum into pieces about the same size as the lamb and onion.  You can also do similar to pieces of bacon, if you like. Combine the lamb, capsicums/peppers, onion, and bacon, if using, 3tbs olive oil, 4tsp finely chopped garlic, juice of 1 or 2 lemon and 3 rosemary sprigs together (or substitute white vinegar instead of the lemon and/or dry white wine; add some oregano, too.  Just make sure you’ve enough of the marinade to cover all ingredients.  My quantities are not exact quantities – I always make the shashliks without taking much notice of exact quantities – and I always make them using the white vinegar and white wine method – free-wheeler that I am). Season to taste  Cover and marinate overnight; or even for a day or two.  Thread ingredients, alternately onto metal BB! Skewers.  Place on grill; cook about 5mins...then turn over (the shashliks, that is, not you) and cook for a further 5-10mins, to your taste..