Once upon a time…
…in a country town on the edge of the ACT there is a cafe that offered what I considered to be ‘the best Eggs Benny, ever’.
When I lived in Sydney (prior to 2015) I would drive down to visit my friend, Wycked, go to a party, and without fail wander down the road to this establishment for copious amounts of fluid to cure the post latex play dehydration. We were rarely hung over, as the mantra goes, “too drunk to drive, too drunk to play”. Plus it was at least a thirty-minute drive home from the party at 2am, so someone had to be the designated driver.
We’d pretty much have the same order each time. Her: a flat white, EB bacon, extra crispy, half serve. Me: EB with Salmon, lemon and ginger tea, Fresh OJ, and tap water. I was always more dehydrated. The reason I stuck with the same order was simply this. The salmon was a grilled, fresh fillet, not smoked. Under free range eggs and house made sauce. It was always delicious, even when we went after a non-party night.
I know it wasn’t the hang-over and lack of sleep talking. It really used to be GREAT!
I’ve been back many time even though Wycked no longer lives there, and I now live a forty-minute drive down the road.
I went out to Bungedore last week to collect my purchases from an onlne sale at Your Healing Space and get a tarot reading. I’d woken up feeling blah after several days of rain; and felt like treating myself. Plus I knew this would be review #50 so I felt harkening back to the old days might be nice.
We would often sit outside and wait to watch the police book the folks that parked directly under the ‘No Parking’ sign as we waited for our orders to arrive. Without fail we’d be rewarded for our lack of faith in p to obey road signs and our complete faith that the Police what would go down on the means streets on a Sunday late morning.
I sat so I could watch. Although, being a Saturday, and somewhat overcast I knew it was unlikely I would be rewarded for my attention to replication.
The menu is now printed on an A4 sheet from a printer that needs an ink refresh. The tables are still mostly wooden with padded wooden chairs, but I was seated at an aluminium table and lightweight chair.
The music being piped from the outdoor speakers was great if you’re into 80s and 90s like Fleetwood Mac, Wet Wet Wet, Blondie, and Steppenwolf. I am, so I happily tapped along and silently belted out the bangers in my head.
The fluid arrived first. Bungendore tap water in a bottle, an OJ, not freshly squeezed but bottled, and the Latte, with what the waiter described as:
“a concerned cat”.
The Black Mountain brew was in mismatched ceramic and was hot but not so hot I couldn’t drink it straight away. It was robust in flavour and smooth. It was a good coffee and after my daring Federal Highway rescue, exactly what I needed.
The food arrived. As I expected, for I have been disappointed countless time since CoVid shut everything down for so many, I was disappointed again.
The menu states: Sauteed spinach, two poached eggs, and Hollandaise on toasted sourdough, your choice of: ham, bacon, mushroom or smoked salmon. (GFO, DF)
That’s not sourdough and where’s the spinach?
The sauce is definitely homemade still, but it’s so insipid looking now. After a few bites I found the spinach, hiding in a soggy mass under the two slices of salmon. The White Vienna bread slices were flame charred on one side and mushy from the spinach moisture on the other.
for years
a number of luck
hours we snogged
in latex catsuits —
I feel you’ve given up
It’s now an average Eggs Benedict. Maybe slightly above average because they still bother with the hassle of making the sauce, but it’s certainly not the best.
The attention to detail has gone. I heard, way back when, that the manager was a bit of a pr*ck, but he ran a tight ship with a reputation for excellent food, prompt, friendly, and repeated custom.
What I noticed yesterday was a nearly empty cafe inside and barely anyone outside. It wasn’t only the weather causing that. It used to be full to busting whatever the weather, we always rang ahead to make a booking. I arrived at 12.20pm and sat down straight away without a booking.
Would I go back. Yes. I always do, in the hope that the old days of excellence will return and this story has a happy ending. Yet I fear Lord Merlynn is absolutely right on this one:
So many roads I’ve travelled
in this dark and dreary life.
And yet so many roads laie before me
that I have yet to step upon.
The past is always with you
haunting you, beckoning you,
calling you to return just one last time.
And yet, when you get to where
you have been before,
nothing is the same, and you feel unwanted.
Walking down a street where you used to live,
the house you lived in
has been torn down, and is no longer there.
Only memories remain
of a lifetime, lived so long ago.
People that you have once known,
but do not know you anymore.
Wave and smile blankly at you in the street.
The pain, a lingering lump in the throat.
Choking down tears left unshed.
Sorrow bubbles up from deep inside.
You move on, for everything changes;
And you can never go home again.
***
Location: Cafe Woodworks
Address: 20 Malbon Street, Bungendore, NSW 2621
Website: Woodworks
EB Price: $22.50
