Arrived in once piece last night, even after my dubious shut-eyed experience with Aeropelican. I didn't even know such an airline existed, and I was barely prepared for the reality of flying on small aircraft. I was just attempting to explain the wonders of air travel to a coursemate earlier on in the day, who'd never flown anywhere before. I found it quite difficult to explain the joys of taking off and landing in a giant miracle of modern man's invention. Thankfully he didn't witness the partial terror of mine at thinking of various light plane disasters as we chugged down the runway in a seemingly altogether too tiny thing with propellers. Propellers! It didn't feel like 2008 at all.
Got some help from base security lugging my 25.5kg bodybag upstairs, and ran into a couple of medics in the hallway, who seemed to be having a bit of a quiet drink of a Friday night. After graduating as Dux that morning, saying some rushed goodbyes back at base, going on an epic bus trip from Cerberus to the airport and making it through the check-in line, then saying more goodbyes in Melbourne before flying to Sydney, miraculously figuring out how to get from Sydney to Newcastle, running into one of the intermediate cooks I'd met in Latchford a week ago who was the Student of Merit for his course, then scamming a lift on the Newcastle Airport shuttle service to the front gate of RAAF Williamtown, I was exhausted. Yet I still stuck around, leaning in a medic's doorway, listening to some tales of war as a child in the Sudanese infantry. This guy intends to write a book on his experiences, and I have a feeling it'd put any of my words to shame!
After a decent stint of sleep, I got up this morning and decided to get a cab into town so I could explore. I had an offer of a drive into and around town, but I figured I should at least try and see some things for myself before I take someone else's tour. In the small space of a week I've partially regretted giving up the benefits of an automobile, albeit temporarily. With NSW taxi tariffs being what they are, and the main part of town not as easily accessible as I thought it might be, exploring my new 'hood could be a lot more expensive than I expected. I'm already guessing that hiring a car for the day would be cheaper than cabs to and from Stockton, where I've caught the ferry across to the city today.
The vibe of this place is pretty good so far. I've spent most of the day wandering around and stopping at anything that looks remotely interesting. Kicked off with a not-too-shabby coffee and wrap at Newcastle Bakehouse (without thinking I should try some of their bread, as I imagine they don't bake the stuff that wraps are made of!), stopped by the old police building which houses a museum and a gallery, trotted up to the Newcastle region gallery and city library, and popped into a handful of cool little shops in and around Darby Street. I'm happy that I've found a place to splurge on secondhand books, as well as bling for my room, and some local designer clothes to help rebuild my wardrobe.
Not sure whether it's a good or a bad sign that I'm living in the seventies, or so it seems. What is with the RAAF and asbestos? Sure, it lends a somewhat potentially-hazardous charm to one's accommodation, but underneath the nostalgia factor lies the slimmest of possibilities that some day, someone, somewhere, will decide to upgrade the living standards for singlies on base. Hate to be a whinger, but. Yeah. No amount of redecoration can take away the dormant dangers that await in my ceiling. Whee!
I'm hoping that in a couple months' time, or at least by the point when friends or relatives may see my accommodation willingly, it will look a little less like a military bachelor hovel. Everyone needs a project.
Saturday, March 29
Thursday, March 27
yay, boxes!
I've always liked moving house. The prospect of new beginnings usually far outweighs the feeling of leaving things behind. Perhaps it's just because being in transit appeals to the nomad in me, or that most of the moves in my life have been for the better. Even though it's taken about six months to feel like I created some kind of sanctuary for myself at Cerberus, I'm not too sad to be moving to more permanent premises at Williamtown.
I'm surprised at how much stuff I have, considering when we had to scrawl out an inventory, there were people with huge and detailed lists compared to mine. I had a feeling that there might be too many boxes in my moving kit, that perhaps someone somewhere had grossly overestimated the amount of property one could squash into a double cabin here. Sure enough though, I crammed all of my things bar a few items of clothing, toiletries, and essential uniform, into six boxes. Including my trunk and ironing board, somehow I managed to keep the number of transportable items to below ten.
There's nothing like packing your worldly goods into boxes to make you wonder how much you really have in life, and how much you actually need. It amazes me how much superfluous junk I have somehow managed to acquire over such a short space as six months. It's also quite a relief to only have a few boxes to contend with at the other end; I was tempted to just move my uniforms and take the clothes I was wearing, and start all over again, but there were too many books and photos I'd be leaving behind, and I wasn't sure of my odds of buying a wardrobe of civvies again, bit by bit.
Strangely enough, on the very day my room looks like a tornado has sucked all my belongings away, I got pulled aside by the Squadron Leader at the School of Catering about a TPR. TPR == Trainee Progress Report, which can either be a good or a bad thing, sort of like a digg online. They have something to do with outstanding things, but the trick is knowing whether you're sticking out because of a positive or a negative action. It turns out that there was a Lieutenant Commander who noticed on three occasions during rounds (or perhaps other inspections?) that my cabin was of an excellent standard and I should be commended for it. If only she could see it now!
I'm surprised at how much stuff I have, considering when we had to scrawl out an inventory, there were people with huge and detailed lists compared to mine. I had a feeling that there might be too many boxes in my moving kit, that perhaps someone somewhere had grossly overestimated the amount of property one could squash into a double cabin here. Sure enough though, I crammed all of my things bar a few items of clothing, toiletries, and essential uniform, into six boxes. Including my trunk and ironing board, somehow I managed to keep the number of transportable items to below ten.
There's nothing like packing your worldly goods into boxes to make you wonder how much you really have in life, and how much you actually need. It amazes me how much superfluous junk I have somehow managed to acquire over such a short space as six months. It's also quite a relief to only have a few boxes to contend with at the other end; I was tempted to just move my uniforms and take the clothes I was wearing, and start all over again, but there were too many books and photos I'd be leaving behind, and I wasn't sure of my odds of buying a wardrobe of civvies again, bit by bit.
Strangely enough, on the very day my room looks like a tornado has sucked all my belongings away, I got pulled aside by the Squadron Leader at the School of Catering about a TPR. TPR == Trainee Progress Report, which can either be a good or a bad thing, sort of like a digg online. They have something to do with outstanding things, but the trick is knowing whether you're sticking out because of a positive or a negative action. It turns out that there was a Lieutenant Commander who noticed on three occasions during rounds (or perhaps other inspections?) that my cabin was of an excellent standard and I should be commended for it. If only she could see it now!
Saturday, March 1
enough to feed an army?
Last week was what I thought was meant to be one of the true tests of bulk cookery skills - feeding the troops for ADF lunch. Depending on the Chef of the Day, and whatever's kicking around the coolroom or section fridges, there is typically a lunch selection on offer that includes at least one vegetarian option, two omnivorous options, a salad, and some kind of fruit in either platter or salad format.
With a team of three, it's usually a case of divide and conquer, with things made even easier by handballing salads to larder and most people taking into consideration simple yet effective recipes when forming their Chef of the Day menu. On most days, as long as the ordering was all done correctly and the trolleys were sufficiently supplied, we managed to tear through the dishes we had to do, and then some.
Some days we could badger patisserie for some scrolls, rolls, and extra breads, or even something completely different for dessert. I don't know who it was that thought to pull out some jelly as a novelty, but it stretched as far as going three different colours, adding whipped cream and fruit with hundreds and thousands, and baking a sponge and adding custard to make a ghetto trifle. Who knew that hooves could taste this good?
There's something quite satisfying about putting gastronorm after gastronorm tray of food out for service. I used to be awed by the mere sight of bulk sized ingredients, but now I am even more impressed by seeing what all those trolleys full of ingredients can become when combined in the right manner. The two hours or so that ADF lunches have to be prepped in just fly by, but in that good way. The menu changes every day, so there's not much leeway for improvements on efficency and effectiveness in terms of particular recipes, but I like it.
Sure, by the end of working a week in a section of the restaurant, you pretty much know your two or three dishes like the back of your hand, and unless your section is particularly pumped, it's almost boring by comparison to have to produce the same thing day in, day out. Keep in mind this is only four days, and there are no doubt restaurants whose menus change seasonally, or seldom if never!
I was definitely up for the challenge of not getting a chance to sit on my laurels, thinking that every day was different, so I couldn't think for a moment about feeling too comfortable. It was kind of like how I felt about getting out of patisserie... I had learnt enough about bread to know that every dough is different, even moreso as a novice, and it takes time to become more predictable. In some ways, ADF was actually easier than restaurant service, because despite having less time and greater quantities to pump out during the day, all the chaos was over by about 1145 and the rest of the day is the comedown from the adrenaline, washing dishes still kicking around, and the organisation of dry stores and coolroom after service.
To be honest, I didn't feel particularly organised in the ADF section as I thought I should or could be. However, we still managed to get through with flying colours, all the food looked good, was garnished, and presented for lunch on time each day. It makes me wonder how disorganised previous groups must have been to have run late for three or four dishes by 1100!
I think the only thing cooler than happy customers is happy peers. The one thing about feeding ADF is that there's no holding back when it comes to feedback, whether it be positive or negative. They're an honest if not brutal lot, the military trainee population. Especially when it comes to food, and personal perceptions thereof. I believe that our ADF team did a fantastic job when we were on, and considering that it's probably the section that best reflects what our actual working lives are going to be like, I dug it. A lot!
With a team of three, it's usually a case of divide and conquer, with things made even easier by handballing salads to larder and most people taking into consideration simple yet effective recipes when forming their Chef of the Day menu. On most days, as long as the ordering was all done correctly and the trolleys were sufficiently supplied, we managed to tear through the dishes we had to do, and then some.
Some days we could badger patisserie for some scrolls, rolls, and extra breads, or even something completely different for dessert. I don't know who it was that thought to pull out some jelly as a novelty, but it stretched as far as going three different colours, adding whipped cream and fruit with hundreds and thousands, and baking a sponge and adding custard to make a ghetto trifle. Who knew that hooves could taste this good?
There's something quite satisfying about putting gastronorm after gastronorm tray of food out for service. I used to be awed by the mere sight of bulk sized ingredients, but now I am even more impressed by seeing what all those trolleys full of ingredients can become when combined in the right manner. The two hours or so that ADF lunches have to be prepped in just fly by, but in that good way. The menu changes every day, so there's not much leeway for improvements on efficency and effectiveness in terms of particular recipes, but I like it.
Sure, by the end of working a week in a section of the restaurant, you pretty much know your two or three dishes like the back of your hand, and unless your section is particularly pumped, it's almost boring by comparison to have to produce the same thing day in, day out. Keep in mind this is only four days, and there are no doubt restaurants whose menus change seasonally, or seldom if never!
I was definitely up for the challenge of not getting a chance to sit on my laurels, thinking that every day was different, so I couldn't think for a moment about feeling too comfortable. It was kind of like how I felt about getting out of patisserie... I had learnt enough about bread to know that every dough is different, even moreso as a novice, and it takes time to become more predictable. In some ways, ADF was actually easier than restaurant service, because despite having less time and greater quantities to pump out during the day, all the chaos was over by about 1145 and the rest of the day is the comedown from the adrenaline, washing dishes still kicking around, and the organisation of dry stores and coolroom after service.
To be honest, I didn't feel particularly organised in the ADF section as I thought I should or could be. However, we still managed to get through with flying colours, all the food looked good, was garnished, and presented for lunch on time each day. It makes me wonder how disorganised previous groups must have been to have run late for three or four dishes by 1100!
I think the only thing cooler than happy customers is happy peers. The one thing about feeding ADF is that there's no holding back when it comes to feedback, whether it be positive or negative. They're an honest if not brutal lot, the military trainee population. Especially when it comes to food, and personal perceptions thereof. I believe that our ADF team did a fantastic job when we were on, and considering that it's probably the section that best reflects what our actual working lives are going to be like, I dug it. A lot!
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