I remember there was a time (first year uni) where I thought to myself that I’d never get married. The thought of commitment was hard to comprehend. I was enjoying my happy hours at the Glasshouse Bar at University of Technology Sydney too much, playing Counter Strike at the abundance of internet cafes in Chinatown […]
It was in the middle of
snowboarding season winter when S sent me a coupon for Emmilou with a hearty endorsement that every time she’s been it’s been fab and that we should go. I, of course, couldn’t pass up such an offer and thought it’d be a nice break amidst the crazy weekends (there is sometimes too much of a good thing after all).
There’s a moment of disconnect when we arrive at the dock, the Pacific Pearl seems larger than life and all my neck is capable of is leaning further back, back to try take it all in.
When I heard that Jared Ingersoll of Dank Street Depot was going to open up another restaurant I knew that I had to try his new project out. Of course, life being life, I didn’t manage to dine at Cotton Duck until recently.
My knowledge of Sydney geography is shocking. Despite the fact that I’ve lived in Sydney my entire life, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that anything north of the Harbour Bridge, and east of Moore park is an absolute mystery to me. In the end, all it took was the promise of a Sunday Roast to drag me out east to Four In Hand Bar for a lazy Sunday dinner.