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Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Steak N' Chicks Tuesday #6

It's all about boobs.

The latest Steak N' Chicks Tuesday had a charitable twist, being as it was in October, the Cancer Council's dedicated Women's Cancers Month. The Council encourages chicks (which we are) to host a dinner (which we did) during which you squeeze your mates for some cash to hand over to cancer research, particularly breast cancer.

Alex volunteered her and Anna's gracious abode as a venue, everyone brought a plate and a fistful of bucks, and we even considered a commemorative boosies-out salute. But we're far, far too cosmopolitan and sophisticated for that.
We made a few hundred quid for the cause, and I left before the cleaning up. Sounds like a perfect night to me.

17th October 2006 – Alex's house, Paddington.

The Place
Alex's house is tops. Any house right next to a pub obviously has an automatic head start in the points department, (I think the girls of the house may have referred to the pub once as "the outside fridge"), but who doesn't love a tastefully kitted-out 3-bedroom Paddo terrace? Just something about 'em. Alex, in a nod to Pink Ribbon theme, had decorated with all things pink, including candles and Hundreds And Thousands biscuits. Because Alex is Alex, and has talents bestowed on her by seraphim, she still managed to make it look understated and tasteful.
The kitchen at the house is brilliant – a great 70s-style, shiny-wood number straight out of a fondue-soaked ski chalet. Due to everyone preparing their plentiful plates, and Tegan's and my usual and predictable desire to show off our culinary skills (instead of, oh, I don't know – relaxing and being sociable), the Chalet Kitchen was a hive of frenzied foodstuff-related fussing – a blur of hands, "excuse me"s and wine-bottle-opening with bits of parsley and parmesan mixed in. Chicks made themselves comfortable in the loungeroom, dining room, and courtyard, and the atmosphere was brilliant – a bit of wine, a bit of gossip, and the thoroughly smug air of people gorging themselves for charity. Noice.
As usual, I can't move on without mentioning the ablutionary facilities. They're upstairs. And the soap stinks nice.

The People
It's easy to get people to attend Steak N' Chicks – there's just two things you have to do: Mention cancer and get them to pay in advance. A brilliant turnout, with 14 chicks in attendance – Me, Alex, Cherie, Tegan, Edwina, Claire, Ella, Alyson, Di, Sarah, Angela, Anna, and TWO Vanessas for the price of… well, two. The beauty of Steak N' Chicks Tuesday is that you just about always meet someone new, and, being the discerning and exclusive high-falutin' sorts we are, they're always good value. Conversation flowed as easily as the wine, which thanks to Anna's wheeling, dealing and price ceiling was outrageously plentiful. Conversational topics ranged from food, to trips overseas, to food, to men, to high school, to food, to galahs, to drinking, and settled eventually on Botox. At this point Ella whipped out something I'm calling 'Jolie Juice' – a vial of lip-gloss which has the added bonus of making one's lips swell. Naturally we all jumped on it, and in no time at all we were shiny, mildly puffy, and sporting the kind of extremely minor discomfort that all true beauty demands.

The Food
Us chicks know our grub. And how to amass great heaving piles of it. Claire and Alyson started everyone slavering with a gob-stuffing collection of cheeses and dips, including Claire's infamous Salsamole. Or Guacasalsa. Or something. The Pink Table was soon completely dwarfed by Ella's divine salmon tarts (and I know tarts, mate), the Vanessas' salads, (colourful, creative, crouton-adorned), Tegan's chicken & pesto gnocchi (I'd turn my head away from Johnny Depp for a mouthful), Edwina's pizza (god bless pizza – all the time, every time), my risotto (forgot the mushrooms, made up for it with garlic and parmesan), and my favourite of the night, Cherie's stuffed mushrooms. I never met a funghi I didn't like, and I'm thinking of eloping with these delicate, insanely delicious mouth-sized morsels. Dessert took the form of Di's chocolate fudge tarty/slicey thing ("wheat free!" shouted the normally pastry-deprived Angela), and Sarah's sticky date pud, both of which I'm entitling Things I Will Eat When Sex Is Not An Option. Magnificent.
My only regrets are not sneaking leftovers out in my handbag and not counting how many glasses of wine I had. I'm certain we all reek of garlic this morning, but in a self-satisfied, elegant way. Yes. We reek elegantly. And swear like brickies.
Anna has given herself the task of collecting everybody's recipes for the food they provided and collating it into some kind of commemorative pamphlet. The only thing we need is a title…..
The Boosie Banquet?
Nosh For Norks?
Foodie Fun-Bags?

No. No, of course not. Cancer is a serious, serious business.

The Summarising Bit
What a gaggle of magnificent women. I don't know about anyone else, but I came away with a smile on my face (with slightly plumper lips than usual) and a stomach girth the likes of which I don't normally lug around. Being charitable feels good, but being charitable by stuffing your maw with excellent food ROCKS.

So long, and thanks for the mammaries.
Sorry. Had to get one more boob gag in.

1 comment:

shellity said...

It's all about boobs? I know a certain 7-week-old who completely agrees.