I don’t know about anyone else, but by this time of year, I not only struggle to decide what to cook for dinner, I also can’t make decisions about what it is I want from a menu when dining out.
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That’s where past me was looking out for future me when I booked a table for a unique dining experience at Chāar Long, a couple of months ago, for last weekend.
In the pretty little township of Avenel, this year-old Thai restaurant is perched directly next to the Ned Kelly Touring Route, overlooking the historic picturesque Hughes Creek Bridge and leafy surrounds.
Its name — Chāar Long — means ‘slow down’ in Thai.
Not only does the peaceful setting allow diners to do that, but the set menu, which is different for each sitting but decided for you, eliminates the need for any brain power.
You can just relax and let owner-chefs John and Yao O’Donoghue (and their staff) take the wheel.
Their niche little restaurant caters to just 28 diners at a time and can only be booked for lunch on three days of the week, Friday through Sunday.
Bookings open every two months and they get snapped up pretty quickly.
I learnt why during my visit, as dish after dish (there were five!) was delivered to our table with smiles and detailed spoken descriptions of what each was called, what the ingredients were and what flavour sensations we could expect from them.
As someone who can admire portraits but can’t draw them, someone who loves a million genres of music but can’t make any, I’m also someone who loves good food, but has no idea how to curate a full menu with dishes that complement each other.
These guys are experts at the latter.
We enjoyed vermicelli spring rolls and curry puffs for appetisers, larb moo (a Thai meat salad) for entrée, Thai green chicken curry and rice noodle omelette for mains with rice and roti bread on the side, before bursting our pants buttons with a dessert of sticky rice, mango and coconut ice-cream with nuts on top.
It was all delicious.
And as my friend said, she’d never have ordered a rice noodle omelette from a menu at a Thai restaurant, yet it was her favourite dish of the day.
I’d never have chosen rice in my dessert, yet it balanced the other ingredients perfectly.
Unadventurous foodies who can’t go past a parma at the pub will be introduced to new things.
Of course, you probably can’t be a fussy eater or a control freak to enjoy the format.
Or, maybe you could be a control freak who just needs a break from freaking controlling everything.
That stuff is exhausting.
I feel like parents, particularly single parents, whether they’re control freaks by nature or not, sometimes have the role forced upon them.
I used to enjoy cooking.
Then I had kids.
I realised that I could spend loads on a long list of ingredients and hours in the kitchen, and end up with more dirty dishes out of the cupboards than clean ones in them, only to serve a masterpiece up and have at least one kid turn their nose up or just push their food unenthusiastically around their plate for half an hour before feigning illness or something.
Somewhere along the line I gave up my will to cook.
Now mine is a basic menu at home; minimal ingredients, quick prep and cooking time, using as few dishes as possible.
You don’t want to eat your bangers and mash tonight? Fine, don’t. It took me 15 minutes to cook and I’m sure the dog will appreciate it.
Not that I’m qualified to criticise any potential human creator, but I think it’s a flaw that we are so needy that we have to eat several times a day.
It’s a lot of thought, a lot of money, a lot of time, a lot of energy and a lot of dishes.
And on Saturday, I didn’t have to worry about any of that.
Now, if only I could convince John and Yao to move in with me.
Sure, the view wouldn’t be as pretty as at their Avenel property, but I would never stop showing them appreciation for taking the hard work out of dining.
I know it’s an unrealistic dream, but when you slow down — or chāar long — you’ve got time to dream such dreams.