For my work this morning I've been making preparations for planning my prize winning short story for the Brisbane competition. I started by simply typing random words about my childhood in Brisbane and was making great progress until I got to my mid-teens and out came: ‘Pizza Hut'. It got me thinking.
When we were children in our very modest home, in a very modest suburb of a city known throughout our land as an overgrown bush town, we had a very plain modest diet. Chops and three veggies for dinner most nights, fish and chips on Friday night, a Sunday roast of course, followed by ice-cream and jelly, and very occasionally the bizarre and exotic offerings from the local take-away Chinese. What those people could do to cabbage was nothing short of miraculous. But there was otherwise little influence from ‘foreign' elements. So little in fact that when the Pizza Hut people invaded our shores it was with trepidation and fear that this Eyetalian cuisine was considered.
Actually, youngsters like myself were busting to get there thanks to the influence of such provocative new age television shows as the Brady Bunch which often depicted the Brady teens heading off to the Pizza Parlour, so rich were their lives. I suspect even Patty Duke and Gidget may have done pizza too, a television generation earlier, but I was a Brady Bunch kid and it was from them I learned of the world.
I was about fifteen when slightly older friends started to drive and have access to their indulgent parents' cars, so freedom to roam and discover became possible. (Yes, the slightly older friends were boys. I was normal back then in most respects.) One marvelous Friday night after a couple of Southern Comforts and coke at the local leagues club (things like under-age drinking laws didn't seem to exist at the time) a car load of us decided we had enough cash between us to venture off to the Pizza Hut for a late supper. I was the only one of the group to have not been before but I wasn't going to let on that I was a neophyte in this regard. I knew how these things worked. Marcia had trained me well.
Oh, the aroma of that place. I had never imagined such exquisite olfactory delights. I was overcome, overwhelmed, I was in heaven. This surely was where taste buds came to die. We found a table and along with dozens of other teenagers started contributing to the noise and laughter that filled the room. I allowed the newness and excitement to envelop me and along with a mild southern comfort buzz was feeling pretty bloody pleased with myself.
When our pizza arrived (probably some crazy cosmopolitan combination of ground beef, onions and mushrooms.. but hey, with extra cheese, we were young thrill seekers after all) things only got better. How freaking delicious was this? How did Marcia keep her lovely figure when she had this to eat whenever she wanted to? But then it happened. One of my company sprinkled their slice with something that was definitely not salt and then passed the shaker to me. "You want some?" Why, of course I wanted some. This was an adventure right? Living on the edge. Taking no prisoners. "Hand me that jar young man, and don't spare the horses."
Marcia had not prepared me for the jars of powdered vomit at the Pizza Hut.
I have since grown to love parmesan cheese and won't eat my spag bol without it, but at the time I was convinced someone was playing a nasty practical joke on me. I can laugh about it now but it was an abject lesson in feigning a competence one does not actually possess and the dangers that lie therein.
I'm wondering now if some day my son Dale will look back on the diet of his childhood and scoff at the mundane offerings of curries and pastas, mexican dishes, lebanese foods and Thai delights. Perhaps one day he'll admit to his friends that he never had a Tanzanian Zebra stew until he got away from his mother's pedestrian cooking.
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Comments: 27
i hate the smell of parmesan yuck.
great article
... though considering the mildness of Oz cuisine ... those may still not be offered on the table at Pizza Hut down-under!!!
(-;
I hate parmesan cheese...it's probably the strongest of all cheeses...most rotten it tis! And the men in my family (they're the cooks) just pile it on....everything. Yuck!
Then I had to laugh about the Brady bunch. The spring of Will's twelfth year, Aaron's eighth and of course Zach was just a wee six months, Papa and I were planning a cross-country trip across America. I hauled out all the Natl' Geographics and put stickies on all the articles I wanted the boys to read about the different National Parks so they could each (not Zach, of course) make a list of the 5 things they really wanted to see. Though they perused these magazines, I am sure most of what got on their lists were places the Brady Bunch had been. It was truly a Brady Bunch summer....but I must admit, we didn't get to Hawaii "to the cave"!
I have always loved Pizza Hut but lately their quality and service has been very discouraging. Perhaps it's still better in your part of the world.
Thanks for that little trip down memory line - I am so enjoying this daily dose from down under.
I also remember the advent of Pizza Hut to our fair shores. Somehow it was a class above McDonalds and KFC. Now, there are only three sitdown restaurants left in the country, and they're closing in a couple of months as well.
I could not stand Parmesan until I was a grownup, and now I can't get enough of the stuff. Maybe that's why people stay out of my way these days.
So glad you got to experience Pizza, and the all time fav of KFC lol. You gotta come to the states and try Bojangles - cajun fried chicken - yummo!
*drools*
As always, Carolyn, a delightful read. You really are the writer about all things Oz.
Quite tasty.
Maria, I'm sorry you never acquired the taste, but delighted you enjoyed the yarn.
Thanks Flit. Dirty sock? perhaps, but i'm sticking with 'powdered vomit' for now ;)
Gidday Bill, we truely are very pedestrian still, but if you know where to go there are surprises all over the place. My best Japanese experience was at the Jun restaurant in Townsville Nth Qld where I managed to avoid the wasabi yet got ratfaced on saki. Lovely memories.
Bob, I just love the Brady Bunch tour of places of national significance! I remember a night, years later as a grown up, staying outa town for work and i turned on the telly in the motel to keep me company while i showered. The 'story of a lovely lady' music came on but my ears didn't prick up til the music that signalled the beginning of the episode itself.. from my soaped moistened position in the other room I knew instantly it was episode two of the Hawaiian adventure in Brady Land. That kind of awareness scared me at the time.
Faith, it's wonderful to consider how much more erudite they will become in their food choices as global melting-potness overcomes us. Such fun.
Bob, you are simply inspiring. I must extend my list of people from whom i can bludge a free meal, definitely!
Wilma, thank you again. I havent Pizza Hutted in forever. We have cheaper more convenient take away folks these day. But those halcyon days of sit down table service amongst those glorious smells will never be forgotten.
Tonia, thank you for saying that. I've been feeling a little chagrined that all you loyal readers feel compelled to comment each day. I am doing these daily articles in order to establish a work habit which will ultimately help me emerge from under my blankie on a permanent useful basis. The fact that you've all been so supportive and kind has been simply a tremendous bonus and is greatly encouraging. My internet friend Mike was raised in Brooklyn before settling in New Hampshire. He often taunts me about New York pizza ;)
Pat, pizza hut was definitely the bees knees in sit down fancy fast food in the seventies. (As long as you didn't consider Cindy the 'sexy one' all is good.) The Huts here have all been sold off to other restaurants and one can only get it take away these days. But I'm an Eagle Boys person these days due to their two minutes or its free offer. I get a free pizza every week.
Mon, there are so many reasons I should get to the States. I'll now place cajun fried chicken in the top five. I don't understand about the butter thing... you'd consider eating a sandwich without lashings of butter? Thank you for always dropping by and being lovely to me.
lol Orby, I see post partum food cravings are setting in. when Gene was new and i did nothing but feed him and sit for months on end, there were many times i had to brush crumbs of his sleeping form before settling him into his cot. the local bakery had a significantly prosperous year.
Magi, you are very kind. Thank you for adding your unique culinary experiences. In my school yard it was the kids who had butter on their sangers that I truly envied. Margarine is a poison and I shalln't rest until it is banished from our world. I've had kangaroo once in my life, on a gloriously indulgent night at the Perth Parmelia Hilton with my mother years ago. We had buffalo and wild mushrooms after a starter of medallions of kangaroo. Perhaps a little different to your kangaroo tail stew... perhaps.
Thank you Marianne! I had a Pizza Haven not five hundred yards from my old house. The young lad who managed the place became a significant person in my life when he assumed the local single mother would be intensely grateful for his attentions. I appreciated the discount, remained aloof and we always have a fun chat when we meet up at the shops to this day.
Bob, please meet Pat. Pat this is Bob. You two can work out the intricacies...
Carolyn, I have Featured this in Wednesdays' Writing Essential.
Your story reminded me of one of my "first time" experiences with food in Sydney. I ordered a hamburger and it came, not only with butter on it, but a huge slab of beet (or beetroot, as they say down under). I was appalled and I blurted out "What is that??? I didn't order that!!!" to the great embarrassment of my significant other. I was equally outraged when I ordered my first ham and cheese sandwich too — two peices of white bread (slathered with butter), one very thin slice of ham and one very thin slice of cheese. But by then, I had learned to keep my mouth shut. I always got a kick out of the Aussies who returned from a vacation in the States going on and on about the sandwiches here. "All I wanted was a ham sandwich and I got this thing four inches tall with a heap of chips and cole slaw!"
Oh, I miss Sydney so much!
Kathryn! Thank you so much for that, what a treat! I 'm hoping deep down that there's no such thing as Tanzanian Zebra Stew ;)
Magi, thanks for the warning, but somehow, I hadn't considered the possibility I'd ever try it.
Diane, now lemme get this straight. You're saying you folks stateside don't butter your bread and breadrolls? at all? Monica suggested as much but with Mon I just put that down to her being a southern loony.. I gotta look into this. Your beetroot thing made me laugh. In my pretend novel The Cuddly Cookbook, a lass orders a sandwich for her boss: chicken and salad, no beetroot. In explaining this to a reader I said :
"Beetroot.. I wasn't sure if it would translate to the American. When MacDonalds introduced an 'Aussie' burger to their menu here the one significant change to the regular quarter pounder was to add beetroot. Which is hilarious because from real hamburger shops EVERYONE orders their burgers 'no beetroot'." Guess you had to learn that one the hard way Dianne... ;)
Very kind of you to connect, thank you. I hope you continue to enjoy the offerings.
Yes we butter rolls and toast, but not hamburgers or sandwiches (except for grilled cheese and then the butter is on the outside). If I have a ham sandwich, I will have mustard or mayo on it (or both) — no need for butter. Ditto hamburgers — no need.
My ex hubby and I used to argue all the time about giving our son all that butter, but Tim just didn't think bread in any form could be eaten without butter. I just chalked it up to my assumption that all that Vegemite had ruined his taste buds!
I grew up in Atlanta, in that "other" Georgia - you know, the one in America. I had no idea anyone outside the southern US knew of, much less drank, Southern Comfort. All these great memories of nights spent with food - bah. You've brought back to me all the nights as a youth spent with Southern Comfort. I know exactly what you mean about lack of underage-drinking laws. We didn't have any here back then either. But what days those were. I suspect we may have enjoyed pizza too on occasion, but who knows ...
Jim, you gonna explain Atlanta to ME?? The woman who's read Gone With the Wind more times than any other living soul? But curiously I'd never equated Southern Comfort with your 'Southern' before now. Oh yes, it was and perhaps still is, a favourite wee drop for the youngsters here, being so sweet and drinkable and all. I don't think I've had any since my teens though, having acquired a taste for other things as the years went by, but those memories are still very sweet indeed. Thank you so much for adding your memories too.