We opt for breakfast at the house as Iluka is one of those places that has “tastee omelet” (quoted directly from the menu) or “baked beans on toast for $6.50” type breakfast joints. I’m not saying that I’m a food snob but… I’m just not feeling the baked beans on cheap white bread toast thing today. Besides, we bought some bacon by the Mount Warning Smokehouse. These guys know how to smoke pork. Nuff said.
As soon as we’re done with breakfast the conversation turns to the evening meal, and who is that strange looking old man who has been peering through the kitchen window for the last hour? Being that it is a fishing town where we are staying we decided it would be crazy if we didn’t indulge in a seafood extravaganza of some description, and the old guy at the window, his name is Jim. Apparently you shouldn’t take any of the free “vitamin” supplements he may offer you. Also, he is banned from going within twenty meters of a public toilet.
I truly love holidays. Thinking about the word itself; holiday. If we were to break it down we would have holy day, and my friends the prophecy was realised in the form of a kick ass seafood bbq. Absolutely true blue Aussie style. Back verandah barbeque seafood cook up. I just about wet my pants. We started at the Fisherman’s Co-op where the young lady informed me that everything they sold was caught locally; this is virtually fore play to me. I acknowledged her advances and proceeded to woo her with the purchase of a fat bag of seafood. Leather jacket (a species of fish for those who don’t know. You haven’t been magically transported to a freaking “Grease” stage play, people), squid, king prawns and crabs. We shared a cigarette and I was on my way.
A simple marinade for the bounty was garlic, lemon zest, parsley, chilli, ginger (a bit of east meets west) and oil… and just a splash of beer when it hit the barbie*. Washed down with a heap of corona. Holidays rock my world.
*Barbie. Slang for barbeque. I am not condoning the use of seafood to beat up clearly diseased plastic dolls.