Rockpool Bar & Grill @ Crown

I did not head to Mornington, as I figured out I will have very little time. The following day would be my flight and I was very jittery about it. My excitement was to compared with a glass of Moet Chandon. The bubbles keep going up and they escape at a rapid rate. I had only two hours sleep that night.

And I was certain that putting make up would not help me on Monday.

I never thought Crown was this beautiful. My teachers were like saying: "Oh, that place is dangerous. You should not go there."

In fact, I think that place is pretty safe in comparison to Genting Highlands.

But Crown cannot top Genting Highlands. The casino in Genting is wayyyyy bigger and wayyyy better.

I loved the Greek Cafe. They had all my favourite desserts. From Balaclava to Florentines.

Agynesss. Man, my dad got me a very ugly tote. He should have at least WAITED for me. Now, we even bought a Coach scarf to enhance the Burberry number. This is shitty.





Homemade bread with butter.

Autumn Lobster Salad with Grilled Sweet Potato, Carrots, Lentils and Mustard Vinaigrette


The portion was small but it took me thirty minutes to finish it. I had nothing to rail against small portions. I think they are good for me. I’m trying to shed that annoying one kilo which I think I’ve already did but it is okay. I can still afford to lose more.

It came, with a whole chunk of very fresh lobster meat, obviously taken from its midsection, judging by the size of it, two pieces of lobster meat from its pincers, sitting below the circular chunk ( I was thinking of the famous Pi times Radius square, ALL ENT ZER’S FAULT and RYAN TONG’S AMAZING LOVE FOR MATHS ) and below it, a small mountain of lentils which had that dijon dressing and at the base of it, supporting this mini skyscraper, was a thin slice of sweet potato and carrots. My dish, was very colourful but the taste, was much better.

No wonder they gave this restaurant an award. A seventeen out of twenty in the Good Food Guide 2008. It is even better than Jamie Oliver’s Fifteen which had a mere score of 13.5. I will surely bring my sister to this restaurant which had another branch in the famous Sydney Opera House to celebrate her birthday. She would love the ambience and they play slow music, like Norah Jones. Even though I was dining alone, I enjoyed it to the fullest. Never have I felt this way. Even in Westin, I felt a bit odd but here, it feels like I”m dining at home. The open space, the proper lightning, the fact that from the restaurant, you can see the lovely Yarra river and the boats floating on it.

Yes, of the lobster, it was of the freshest and sweetest. My mom hates lobster dishes. I hate them too. In Chinese restaurants, lobsters are often overcooked and had this hard texture. Here, even though the lobster is cooked, it still has that tenderness. They did it with timing. Since I was sitting quite near to the kitchen, which is an open one ( Usually, restaurants with open kitchens convey very clear messages: The kitchen is clean, the staff is organized ), I could observe how they do the cooking. Like what we all see in Ratatouille, they had different sections, different chefs doing different things. And this one, I watched how they used the timing system. Five minutes, two minutes... They do not keep the customer waiting. My dishes came progressively and served hot. Something I liked best.

But the lobster dish was a cold starter, so I could not say much about that. I loved the idea of the dijon vinaigrette. It was not spicy and did not covered any of the flavours. It was a good blend. The lobster had natural sweetness, the dijon gave a kick to the lentils, bringing out the fullest from them beans and the thin slice of carrot and sweet potato was a balance.


The grilled Cooroong yellow mullet with Jerusalem artichokes was even better. The fish, oh my god, it was better than the rainbow trout which I had in the Ship. I loved the rainbow trout. I loved the fresh tuna from Kampachi and for its redness, I could pay homage to tuna. I loved Norweigian salmon, Atlantic cods, the barramundi was one of my favourite too but the yellow mullet was slightly special. It had the little bit of fish oil like the cod, the sweetness of the rainbow trout and best of all, it was fresh. Every bit of meat came off by slice. The skin was golden brown and had the crisp in it. The fish was juicy and had a strong, distinctive taste. Like when I eat salmon, if you blindfold me, I would know that I’m eating salmon. And the yellow mullet is the same. Man, if the hostel serve such good food, I would have not need to eat bread twice a day.

And I have to make this statement:
“Even bread from Victoria Market tastes better than breakfast and lunch in the hostel”

When I move out next year, I make sure that I have fish every night. If it’s not fish, then it’s mussels, or oysters, or nice lamb racks... Or silken tofu with mince meat and shrimp.

I would be a very happy girl. And my sister, the next Nigella Lawson, can do her famous butterflied chicken with stir fry brocolli in white wine and I, being the Queen of All Desserts, can make Eton’s mess.

Yes, the Jerusalem artichokes were so sweet and the dressing which was below the artichokes, I suspected that they were artichoke puree. It sort of had a lifetime bond with the puree. They complimented each other so well that I was tricked into a feeling that I was eating ambrosia.


Finally, the last bit which I always enjoyed the most. Desserts. Instead of ordering the rum baba ( Cake made from rum ), I had the apple and rhubarb crumble which comes with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. They should make a correction to the menu. The vanilla ice cream, should be listed as vanilla bean ice cream. The ice cream was not the typical white vanilla but the slightly brownish one. If you guys would like to know, vanilla is not WHITE in colour. Vanilla is brown. Yes, they made the ice cream and it was not from some random supplier. The ice cream reminded me of Lemon Garden’s ice creams. For me, they are the best in the world. Not even Il Dolce Freddos could smack my love for Lemon Garden’s strong and flavourful ice creams.

Vanilla Sauce.

The rhubarb and apple crumble was filled with rhubarb and apples. They were served warm, not to the point that it was hot. I still remembered the first time I had apple and rhubarb crumble. It was a disappointment. I had it in the famous Mandarin Hotel and apparently, Mandarin Hotel is famous for their amount of sugar they put into good food. Seriously, they should save on sugar so desserts would not be perceived as food that enhances the waistline. Can’t you see? We all want to be like Adrianna Lima!

They used fresh rhubarb and the brown layer on top is a mix of nuts. Man, this is probably the best apple and rhubarb crumble in the world. The vanilla sauce only made it better.

It was not too sweet, the dessert. It was right there. I had it with a cup of long black which came with a small cup of thingmajiggies. I tried those ‘balls’ and I thought they were amaretti, a type of almond biscuit but when I asked the waiter, he playfully questioned me: “What do you think they are?” I said, “Are they amarettis?” He said: “No, they are popcorn.”

I thought my hearing is failing me and I replied, “Popcorn? This is popcorn?”

“Yes, homemade caramelized popcorn.”

Popcorn DID NOT TASTE THAT GOOD, OKAY.

And it does not look like POPCORN at all.

The long black, even though it is strong, does not seem to make me feel awake. I was feeling very tired the whole day. I was going to sleep in the tram. But you know what annoys me? The toilet smells like long black.

Popcorn.

The lavatory was decorated in such a lavish manner that I am compelled to take a picture.





So little time left! And I shall be back in Melbourne! =( I'll surely miss my mom. And it will happen all over again.

Defragment

I hate having to take medications. They leave a bitter taste in your tongue when you let water swirl those two tiny, white pills down your throat. Sometimes, those stubborn button-like things would not go down with the river you've poured into the dark cavity of your mouth and as soon as liquid touches them, they dissolve into powder.

I've finished watching Gossip Girl. Hur-rah for me. I realise that my stay here is really short. I haven't finished reading March yet. I had barely time for books as I had my mind attended on my parents, my cissa and my upcoming test. I had to finish 500 very stupid questions on law and regulations which are practiced on the road and my mind is being a slob. I sleep for 10 hours or more, my body finally being able to get good sleep. I've been to places, snapped pictures but had very little mind to blog.

I'm tired. So tired. And it saddens me to have to leave my family once more. No doubt, my eyes would redden on the day of my departure. I would spend the Sunday without much aim. Maybe I'll try reading March then to vacuum the bubble of depression would once more envelop me again.

Then it's back to lousy dinners at weekdays, my Skinner's box, self-wallowing and poor sleep.

But it's my choice. And choices come with sacrifices.

Jetlag.

The smell of the house, was still very much the same. It had a perfume of dried flowers, fresh morning dew, old newspapers, the hint of my Rottie lingering in the humid air and the aroma of fruits.

My room was no different either. It had that distinctive smell which tells me that I am home.

Yes, I'm home. For once, I had mixed feelings. I did not know if it is happiness or sadness.

Maybe both.

That teeny bopper.

That teeny bopper, I was. Stuck in my ears, were Sony headphones. Back then, Ipod was non-existent, a fantasy often talked about by the tech-savvy society. The Walkman was a pride for many. Carrying one showed that you were something. In school, it was the epitome of coolness. Everybody has one. Except for me. Until I was 12, I owned one and was quite contented with it. I still had it. But it was stashed away at my side drawers. Only when there was a surge of emotions which would break the dams of my EQ, it would see the light. Otherwise, it stayed in the feathers of darkness.

I didn’t know why this thought was picked up by the fingers of my consciousness. Maybe, that fish just swam in that preconscious region which Freud always talked about. The fish decided to take a breather or two on the surface, the those fingers manage to capture it without freezing its fingers.

How could I EVER forget those days where we would conscientiously write down lyrics, sing them together, listen to radios, guess the artistes, talk about superstars, indulge ourselves with the dripping hotness of those boy bands, posters pinned across our walls and giggle in a bashful manner. We have diaries to write down of our personal accounts, as if we’re never going to see each other again. We did not have one, but several. Our pencil boxes are filled with colourful pens. Now, in my pencil box, it’s the none other black or blue Pilot G1 0.7 mm pen. It’s a lucky thing to find a red one.

Ah, those rainbow moments.

Alice bands, fancy scrunchies and Hello Kitty clips were on our hair. We try not to use pencils but pens. We want to be reach 18 as soon as possible. There was a talk of the future. Driving, drinking, dating... There was a time where ‘catalogue shopping’ was a popular game. We would draw pictures of clothes in unwanted exercise books and have invoices for them. Thinking about it makes me laugh.

Now, unwanted exercise books are an asset. No more picture filled but replaced with formulas and lecture notes. No more skipping ropes, marbles and hide-and-seek games.
The fun sort of drained away, we’ve outgrown them. Innocence turned to experience, the Lamb devoured by the Tyger.

That teeny bopper in me just died.

I'm so amazing.

I slept for two hours.

EDIT:

I'm leaving on a jet plane and I know when I'll be back again. Yesssshhhh, two hours of sleep has driven me to this point. THIS POINT of sheer, happiness. I'm going home. WIsh me luck.

Good night folks. See you in Kuala Lovepore! And I KNOW, I KNOW, PAVILION IS WAITING FOR MEEEEEE.