It's been an interesting few months, I have eaten out regularly, hell I even travelled to a foodie's mecca - San Francisco for two weeks over the New Year...I just...well I guess...I kind of lost my blogging mojo. I've started wondering if the whole amateur food photography movement is just that, a fad. A self-indulgent "tirer la pipe". Confirmation came to me in the following form:
Fast forward, and I guess I could say "something drew me back to my home", and after attending the French film festival at the very-grown-up Verona cinema at Leichardt, where you can order wine by the glass in either standard pour - feature length - or epic measures, (a clever "cultured" disguise for what is otherwise known as getting pissed at the movies) myself, Bopper, and BFR wandered (read: staggered) around the corner to Gioia Cafe for a fast post-movie pizza fix. It was there I re-discovered my squid-ability roots.
Apparently Gioia Cafe resides on a site which was once a petrol station. Interestingly, it still has that kind of drive-in feel - but more like Arnold's in Happy Days than a Caltex Star mart. It is a huge restaurant, and that kind of sucks in a way - because when it is nowhere near capacity i.e. your voice echoes when you are seated at your table, it is really kind of obvious this place is not a local favourite. We ordered the Italian standard - a pizza, a capriccosia salad, a gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce, and calamari fritti.The calamari was definitely crisp to the bite, and quite tender. However it lacked flavour, and was a little boring, or perhaps that was because I was betwixt and between eating my meal and watching Bopper make a run for the nearest photinia hedge to ease her acid reflux. It's okay Bopper...Mark has to use a barf-bag every time he travels too.
So it's good to be back, if not for the food reviews, at least for the gratuitous satire...
