Cafe Paci

I have a never ending list of food places I want to eat at, and Cafe Paci has been on the list for quite some time since they opened a few years ago. Last year we tried to go for the end of RPA dinner, but it never happened. Once I heard it was closing, I had to go and try it out. It's also one of the few places in Sydney that do a full vegetarian degustation (with even a vegan modification for B!) We were in store for a treat. 

The space is modern and muted with all shades of grey. A collection of lanterns resembling inverse balloons welcomes you. 

Course 1 - Snacks

Pickled melon dusted with mustard seeds

Onion flavoured grissini

Sour cream, chives and capers

Rice cracker drizzled with some savoury dressing

(in the red dish) Rye taco with rice pudding and chives  

Bread: Potato caraway molasses bread

This had the most amazing dense caramelized crust dripping with sweetness, perfectly accentuating savoury foods. It was served with light-as-air whipped butter or olive oil for the vegan option.

Course 2:  Pickled carrot with pumpkin and caraway mayonnaise

This was a perfect artistic arrangement of pickled carrots forming delicate petals. The pumpkin puree it rests on has a soft texture interspersed with small chunks of pumpkin, the whole concoction even creamier with the mayo. The flavours were very well balanced

Course 3: Strawberries marinated in smoked capsicum, peas and goats curd

Who would have thought of such a replacement for veal tartare? The marinated strawberries had such depth and complexity, fooling the brain into thinking one is eating capsicum yet the sweetness and texture of strawberries are preserved well. This was particularly aesthetically pleasing with cute little dollops of goats curd.

Course 4:  Silverbeet, pomelo, traditional seaweed, smoked butter, porcini mushroom

Silverbeet doesn't usually grace restaurant menus, but I really love it fom the Vipassana days. Here the silverbeet stems are mixed with segments of pomelo and topped with a traditional Finnish topping that tastes almost Japanese - a scattering of crunchy flavour-intense seaweed bits. The porcini mushroom adds another dimension of umami, but is not really obvious amongst the seaweed. The contrast between the soft silverbeet and the crunchy topping was wonderful. 

Course 5:  Zucchini noodles with basil pesto, goats cheese curd, roasted hazelnuts

These zucchini noodles were perfectly formed, every single strand coated with rich pesto. The goats cheese curd was light and almost foamy. Again the textural contrast in layers, especially with the crunchy hazelnuts, was the highlight of the dish. 

Course 6:  Licorice cake, carrot sorbet and yoghurt mousse

I couldn't help but ooh-and-aah when this was set down. The delicate white orb is dusted with licorice dust which has a very subtle flavour. Once you dig your spoon in, the carrot sorbet peeks out like an egg yolk. Dig further and you find the base of licorice cake. Visually this was the most striking dish of the night. 

Course 7: Parsley and pear

What a fascinating combination. The candied parsley was picture-perfect beautiful, sitting atop an otherwise uninteresting slab of pear. The parsley sorbet was an intense green, so strong it was almost like grass. 

Course 8: Brown butter fairy floss with popcorn dust

I saw the table next to us tucking into this a few courses prior and all the (older) adults seemed to be really enjoy ripping it apart. Once we got ours it was easy to see why - the fairy floss is an undescribable soft and it was so much fun ripping it apart and tucking tendrils into your mouth. It melts incredibly fast upon contact, leaving just a hint of popcorn. Pure magic.

Extra: Eucalyptus flavoured dark chocolate koalas.
What better way to finish than a cheeky twist on the classic Caramello koala!

This was a lazy long dinner which was utterly enjoyable every bite of the way. The flavours were innovative and the textures ever so memorable. I was impressed he made such a well rounded vegetarian menu! It is a shame that the popup is closing its doors but whatever adventures Pasi gets up to, I'll be sure to follow...

Dreams: a hot dog factory, and the Beijing conservatorium

A hot dog factory

In this dream I have purchaseda new business but I'm not sure what it is. I'm standing outside a grey boxy factory, one that looks non-descript enough to be anything. I walk inside and there is a man waiting to show me around.

He shows me the conveyor belt, where the workers will stand, just about a metre apart.

So here, the first person will take the bread rolls and split them. He gestures to the empty space.

Then the next person will put the sausage in the roll.

And the next person will add fried onions.

And sauce. 

Then the next person will close the roll together, ensuring compliance with the policy. 

Finally, they will be individually wrapped prior to packing.

We finish our tour and I think to myself. Really? I bought a hot dog factory?

The man congratulates me on my excellent choice. He says that hot dogs are way in vogue right now, and as he says this, the noise of a crowd drifts in.

See, there is already a crowd waiting for you to start dispensing hot dogs! The man says triumphantly, but his face then falls. But I told the workers to start tomorrow, so I supposed you're on your own today.

He disappears and I find the boxes of various hot dog ingredients in the store room. I drag them out and organise them on a single bench, then I start making hot dogs all whilst the crowd outside are shouting - hey! where are those hot dogs? we want them now! we want hot dogs!

I wrap them as fast as I can and soon there is a little pile of wrapped hot dogs. P comes in and says, wow that's a lot of hot dogs but nowhere near enough to feed the crowd outside.

At that moment I run out of sausages, and all I have left is a pile of bread rolls, a lot of sauce and a little hill of shredded lettuce (who puts lettuce in hot dogs?)

Let's go hide away from the crowd in the bathroom. He suggests. Then I wake up.

---------------------

The Beijing Con 

In this dream, I am in Beijing. I’m not sure how I know this, but it is clear in my mind.

I step out of the airport and the time of day is early morning. The sky is grey and some clouds hang low on the horizon, as if it is about to rain. The outside of the airport looks more like Kunming as I get into a taxi – there aren’t enough tall buildings around?

I am looking at the map app on my phone to trace where we are as the taxi goes from the airport to the conservatorium. I think hard but I don’t think I’ve ever been to the Beijing Con before. The taxi goes around the block in one direction because the street it’s on is a one way street. Then I get out of the car and I’m carrying nothing but my violin case.

I walk into the performance theatre at the Con and slide into one of the desks. This is my desk? I ask myself. No one around me seems to question it. We start playing a piece that I don’t recognize. The conductor is an angry man who keeps shouting at various sections for being too fast, too slow, too loud, too soft. It’s not a happy rehearsal at all.

Afterwards I walk out of the theatre alone, carrying my violin. There are no cars on the street outside the Con, and the security guard at the front tells me I must go to the other side of the Con. He shows me the right way – into a tunnel that goes under the main building. As I enter the tunnel it feels hot and stifling, as if the air does not circulate at all. A few light bulbs hang from the ceiling here and there, but it is generally dark and the exposed water pipes are intermittently dripping. I feel very uncomfortable in this network of tunnels that never seem to end, and I feel so grateful when I emerge from the other end. I turn around and the building appears to have turned into a church.

How can there be a church in the Con? I ask myself.

Then I see that there are many people waiting for taxis, and I join them. All the taxis that pass have their lights on, but none of them stop for us. I feel increasingly panicked, then I wake up. 

Dreams: a special French toast, and another sensory vacuum

This is the second dream I've had in the last little while where there has been a vacuum.

The time is early morning and the setting is identical to last time. Instead of not being able to feel any sensations, this time I cannot hear anything. I can see his mouth moving in the shape of words, but no sound comes out and the universe is dreadfully still.

I strain to hear any skerrick of noise, to the point where the silence hurts.

I close my eyes and feel a tear at the corner of my eye. The teardrop is so full of life that it seems to glide down my face of its own accord.

Is it actually my tears? What am I sad about? I think to myself. Then I feel the warm soft pressure of his finger tip gently wiping the tear away. As soon as it disappears, another wells from the corner of my eye. I'm not crying and I don't feel sad, but the tears keep coming one after the other. He patiently wipes them away, saying something that I cannot hear.

Then I wake up.

----
A special French toast

In this dream I am standing on a wooden deck overlooking a patch of still water. instinctively it feels like one of the expensive waterside suburbs like Hunters Hill.

Though I am alone to start with, I am soon called in to have dinner with P, his mum and her partner. The time is twilight and the dining room is lit with candles. I don't remember what we ate, but the conversation is excessively friendly as if meeting for the first time.

After dinner, his mum's partner says I should play the piano for them, since it is a really antique piano that he found at some sale once. It is a beautifully ornate piano and the ivory keys are heavy, weighted like no plastic keys can be. A few old musical songbooks are by the piano, and I play them randomly though I don't recognise any of the pieces. We are drinking red wine that keeps getting topped up as the night progresses. Everyone has a grand time singing and drinking, and soon it is very late. We get up to go and his mum insists that we spend the night since it's so late and we've had quite a lot to drink.

We retreat to the guest room and the scene chops to the next morning. Everything is very still, and there is almost no sound in the house. P is still asleep as I leave the room. His mum is making breakfast and she greets me warmly, asking me to join her. We take plates of french toast out to the deck where the dream started, and sit down in the morning sunshine.

The feel of the interaction has changed significantly, and she seems almost effusive as she speaks. I take a bite of the french toast and it is just heavenly - the eggs are light and fluffy, the texture of the bread is perfect and the syrup drizzled over the top has just a whiff of some spice. I compliment her on the excellent french toast, and she turns to me, smiling broadly.

You know why they are so tasty, right? She asks.

No, what's the secret? I put another piece into my mouth, and continue to enjoy the soft buttery toast.


I made them using your eggs, because you don't need them anymore! She says cheerfully.

I scream and wake up. 

Dream: a sensory vacuum and a baby called Lily

This dream starts in my own bed. 

It's not clear what the time exactly is. The blinds are drawn but light streams behind them - perhaps late afternoon? There is enough light to see that I am with P. The room is completely silent, as if we are in a body of water. Soon I become aware that my brain has dissociated from my body. The brain continues to throw around meaningless mindless things, but I cannot perceive any sensation from any part of the body. I can see what is happening and my brain projects the associated sensations, but I cannot actually sense them. 

As if my sensory cortex has completely died. 

I tell him that I cannot feel. My words float like pebbles across the still water, but they drop heavily with a thud. And I realise that in the same way I cannot feel, he cannot hear.  I look at his face and his expression is blank, as if possessed by some other-world spirit. 

I feel suddenly afraid, and I close my eyes almost reflexively. Then I descend into complete darkness. The blackness surrounds me totally, devoid of all sounds, smells and feelings. It feels like I am at the core of the universe and I am utterly alone.

Then I open my eyes, and he has gotten out of bed. He stands to the right of the bedside table drinking from a 600mL bottle of Pepsi. I thought that was strange since we both don't drink Pepsi? 

The scene cuts to us being in his car. We pull up in a parking lot outside a massive shopping centre. I have no idea where we are but it distinctly feels like America. We get out of the car and it is quite cool in temperature. 

Suddenly a woman comes out of nowhere and accosts us. 

How could you leave your baby like this? You animal! She shouts at him, trying to scratch him as she lunges closer. 

He swerves and she keeps shouting profanities at him. Then she turns to me. And where did you find this stupid whore? 

She is very close to me and she pulls at my hair. He tries to get her away from me. The struggle feels comically grandiose, as if we were part of some bad TV drama. 

All of a sudden she stops. She thrusts a small bundle into my arms and I see it is a newborn baby. 

Her name is Lily. She whispers and turns around. In a moment she is gone and I wake up. 

Dream: a blue blistered door

This dream starts with me standing outside my old place in Kingsford. It's a brilliantly sunny day and the sky is blue without a trace of cloud.

The building is as weary as ever, and a slight mustiness hits me as I open the front door to go up the stairs. My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, and I wonder how it came to be so dark inside when it never used to be that way.

Slowly I fumble my way up the stairs, taking what seems like a very long time. I get to the top of the familiar landing, and turn to the left where my old flat was. There is a little more light here and I can see that the doors are blue. A cheery blue, in between light and dark blue, just the ordinary type of colour that would suit the door to a storage room.

As I get closer to the door I realise the bronze letters on the door say 15 instead of 11. I wonder how the apartment could have changed its numbering system. Then I see that the door is actually blistered. Large pockets of paint have lifted from the door, as if something had impatiently pushed the paint out of the way in an attempt to escape. A faint warmth radiates from the door, making me think about whether there might be a fire inside.

Without using a key, I push open the door and smell the remnant of a fire. It feels like it has come and past, but the lingering smoke is still acrid. The internal structure of the flat is changed as well - I am standing in a passageway with the bedroom off to the right, and the kitchen/living off to the left.

I become aware of the sensation that someone else is in the flat as well. I tiptoe towards the bedroom. There is a lot of bedding strewn on the floor, and P is sitting amidst it all on a brown striped sleeping bag. I contemplate briefly whether I have ever seen this unusual pattern in a sleeping bag (but after I woke up I realise it is the same pattern as my pillowcase).

Then I see that he is well set up, as if he is squatting in my flat. There is a camping gas stove and some cooking stuff (a pot, tongs, cutlery) nearby; books seem to be scattered everywhere. He sits, intently reading a book that seems very familiar, and he is so absorbed he doesn't even look up to see me enter the room. As I get closer I realise that one of the books around him on the ground is the diary I had patched with a postcard of a woman eating a bunch of grapes when the front cover had fallen off. Then I realise that all the books on the ground are my diaries from various times in my life.

My heart races and I scream silently. Then I wake up. 

ADO Brisbane performance

Dream: tragedy at Ashfield station

This dream starts on a platform at Ashfield station. I am standing there with C, her fiance and Marek. Though there are several sparse light poles, it is almost completely dark and I can barely make out their faces.

All around us, trains are passing by. We are discussing where to go to get the train to the city. I suggest that we should go to platform 1... but what platform are we on now? platform 5? we are puzzled as there are very few visual clues.

Steadily, the crowd grows around us. None of the trains seem to stop, but the number of people on the platform is increasing exponentially. Soon Marek and I become separated from the other two, who are swallowed up without a noise by the crowd.

For the number of people there are, it is eerily quiet. We are still walking up the length of the platform when we see some steps leading up to an overbridge. Let's go up there and see if we can see a noticeboard. I say to Marek.

We start up the stairs, but then a rush of people come down the steps and Marek is lost. I am now alone and the stairs seem to never end. They weave left and right, but there is nowhere even to stop and have a rest as there are no landings to separate the flights. I feel out of breath and my legs are burning, but the swell of people behind me push me forward.

I take out my phone and call Marek. The phone goes to voicemail which is fragmented, as if someone tore up the recorded message and scattered them in the sky: please... tone...  message.. not...  It goes on and I hang up. I try calling C but the phone is silent. Suddenly I feel very afraid, my hands and feet cool from perspiration.

Unceremoniously and without warning. the stairs end and I am at the top. I struggle to remember, is this really Ashfield station? It is so dark I cannot see anything on the noticeboards. I decide to go to where I think platform 1 is, and as I go down the steps, weeds grow into them and intrude upon my descent. I trip several times, not being able to see where they are.

I look up and the moon is shining bright. It casts its rays over an area just to my right, revealing a high ledge that looks like a brick wall. I try to climb up the side of the stairs to get to that ledge, convinced that there I will find some answers. It is a rather difficult climb, but eventually I get there and sit down on the cool bricks, utterly exhausted.

It's a great vantage point from which I can see all 5 platforms of Ashfield station. The trains come and go in all sorts of random directions with no pattern to them.

No wonder we couldn't find the train to the city. I think to myself.

Then I see them, dark shadows leaping from the tops of trains. All of a sudden, the truth is crystal clear - to get onto the right train, one must get on top of the train and jump from train to train - these trains cannot be boarded in a normal way. I feel overwhelmed with the idea of doing this though, and feel rather heavy in my heart.

Then I see Marek's shadow on top of a train. Tall and thin, it's definitely him. I stand up and begin to shout to him, but before the words leave my mouth, I see him leap into the air, trying to make it onto the top of the next train. In impossibly slow motion, I see his body falling, having missed the train altogether. Before he hits the ground, I see his body propelled forward in an extraordinary fashion. With a truly sickening feeling in my stomach, I realise that another train has hit him.

My heart feels like it will burst out of my chest. Then I wake up.