Westies, coffee, and puddles
Sometimes I’ll go for a drive when I get a chance. Not just a drive round the corner, but a significant trip. It lets me clear my head and gives the car ‘a good run’. This past weekend I went to Orange. It’s about as far as I’ll go in a day, because it still allows for a little adventure along the way.
The plane was to go with Ravi, see an art exhibition by Catherine O’Donnell at the Orange Regional Gallery, then go a fossick in a few antique shops and come home. Food was also in the mix somewhere. Of course it was.
After driving on roads that had clearly had better days, full of pot holes, some tyre killers that we managed to avoid, and the driving through the biggest puddle* you ever saw, we made it. Of course, we had to stop for brunch along the way, and we did that in Boorowa.
The Café we chose was also in the local pub. A country town with a smallish population I got the feeling life revolves around the pub. We walked in and saw a small menu, I was ready to order Scrambled Egg on Toast when I saw the holy grail at the bottom of the list. I quickly changed my order…
‘Ohh, you have Eggs Benedict, is that available? ’Cause if it is, I’ll totally have that, please!’
“Of course you will” said Ravi with a chuckle.
It’s like he doesn’t know me at all :)
We took a seat at one of the indoor tables as it was chilly and spitting with rain outside. It had been showering all the way so far, so as much as it would have been fun to sit outside and people watch the locals going about their business, we had to make do with those inside.
The table was marble topped and not going anywhere. It’s not uncommon to sit in cafés and spend 10 minutes trying to figure out how to stop the wobble, but this was not an issue here. Six could have easily fitted but our only other option was a coffee table with sofas covered in Westie cushions or a table to for 15. Looking around the West Highland Terrier also featured in other décor. Decorative plates, printed canvases, and ceramics. I pretty sure that someone allergic to dogs may have started sneezing.
The coffees arrived while Ravi was away visiting the facilities. Coffee was really hot. When I did get to drink my latte, and Ravi, their cappuccino, it was rich, creamy without a hint of over cooked. It was delicious.
After he returned, I popped off to use the bathroom too. I was warned to look for corrugated iron.
Sure enough the Ladies was hidden behind a curtain of upcycled roofing. Behind the curtain though was an old world ladies restroom. A full length gold gilded frame, ceramic handles, porcelain and oak furnishing, flowers, and lace.
When I returned from my trip to the post-war forties bathroom, my EB was waiting for me.
It looked simple, uncomplicated. They hadn’t tried to fancy it up, or mess with the formula. The addition of the grilled tomato and sprinkling on dries parsley, was just enough garnish without being garish.
They had chosen a toasted half ciabatta as the bread base. It was soft enough to cut and firm enough to not lose all substance once the sauce and yolk hit it. The sauce, while clearly packet, was one of the yummier brands, with a light lemon tang.
The bacon was salty but not so salty you wanted to drink the entire Boorowa River, which incidentally is currently in flood.
I ate quickly, and Ravi said; “It was good then? You barely said a word about it”.
It absolutely was. It was delicious and I would highly recommend and go back.
Location: Shamrock Cafe
Address: 37, B81 Boorowa, NSW 2586
Website: www.boorowahotel.com.au
EB Price: $18.50
*The Puddle
After eating we continued our drive North to Orange. after half an hour or so the GPS told us to turn right in 500 metres.
As we got closer to the junction I could see water across the road. The GPS indicated we where 150 metres to the junction, and I could see the water all the way to about 20 or so metres before the junction. I pulled Clover (my car) to a stop. Ravi and I looked at each other and had a brief discussion about whether to proceed.
We could tell it was not flowing water, and it was the depth we couldn’t tell. There was no roadside makers, so Ravi took off his shoes and socks and was preparing to go for a walk. It was decided if it was higher than his knees (he’s 5'5" or 165cm) we would turn round and go home.
A Ute approached us from behind and we flagged it down. The driver and his passenger assured us it wasn’t too deep; “We came through about a hour ago with no problems, you’ll be fine.”
‘Do you mind if we follow you through and if there’s any problems, you help us out?’
“No problem Love. You’ll be FINE!”
I followed the Ute in. I left a good gap so I didn’t get too much wash. As we drove, I could feel the pull of the water. We stuck to the middle of the road, the highest point, but the water started splashing up at the windows. At one point a wave washed over the bonnet.
I held my breath.
My heart was beating in my chest. I could hear it.
I was saying, ‘come on baby, you’ve got this!’
Then I felt the wheels grab the road better as the water was shallower.
We emerged with a splutter. As the water in the exhaust was expelled.
It was the longest 100 metres of driving I have ever done. And I’m pretty sure it was the toughest in Clover’s 280,000km.
In hindsight, a Ute sits considerably higher on the road than a Suzuki Swift.
