Monday, January 11, 2010

The Body of Christ.

Young Street, Waterloo is a little neck of the woods, that offers a hell of a lot for the weary of stomach, and the weary of world. It may, to the untrained eye, appear to be just another morsel of colourfully cluttered Sydney urbania, but to those of us who know, it is much, much more. What, you ask! Well, I probably shouldn't be telling you, but Young St Waterloo is the cosmic configuration upon which lies the mystic interplanetary crossroad of the forces of Good and the forces of Evil. Oh, My. No more messing about! The time is nigh, and the choice is now. The choice is between this life and the next, between the mouth, and the soul. Situated on this one street are all of the fleetingly full bodied glories of the decadent and earthly now, as well as all of those chaste virtues of the airy and carrot-dangling eternal. The choice is yours. Sonoma v Hillsong. Will it be a morning at the Hillsong HQ for some en mass spiritual shimmying to the Big Dude Above, or, will it be a visit to Sonoma HQ, for some delectable freshly baked dough-bauchery?

Sorry to be predictable, but fresh baked Sonoma Cinnamoned or Sandwichy Somethings take the almond and apple croissant for me, every.. single.. time. It's not that I have anything against God. But Why have the transubstantiated bread of the Eucharist, when you can have some Sonoma Kamut sourdough that was baked so recently that it's practically a newborn? Your central and lateral incisors are ready, but are you? Are you ready to...

...Meet your fellow sinners? Kathy, Hela, Jo and Celestial little Li Lay, the less that I say, the better. They all came to Sonoma to play Devil's Advocates, with their law degrees, their good looks and their reckless disregard for much else in the face of great food, there was no way they were ever letting us into Hillsong, but that didn't stop us from an epic dose of what I wish was daily bread. CakeKnifeSkians, Sin Is Bread. And Sin Is Good. And this is the Holy Communion.

A Sonoma Sandwich is the Chanel Suit of the foodie world. On the catwalk of your tongue, this is the only thing you want to be rocking. Classic, Classy, Delicious, luscious, moist, toasted, fresh and sourdoughy. Rich and yielding under willing teeth. Mmm-mm. Sonoma Sandwiches speak to the dedicated anglophile in me, Lady Amanda, who wants nothing more than Jane Austenesque picnics in an endless English verdancy with little straw baskets full of fat, luscious sandwiches, sticky-stick-stick, sweet somethings, countless pots of fine tea, social intrigue, subtle goings-on and some 18th century footsies with a Mr Darcy type. Happiness in marriage might be entirely a matter of chance, but happiness in lunch is most certainly not.

Gorgeous Sonoma sourdoughs are the canvas upon which Sandwichdor dali-icious creates surrealism all over your panting tongue. The ingredients are always pure and simple, and, as improper as it might be of me to venture this, what actually makes these sandwiches more delightful than any other is that they're...well...wet. Very few realise that the secret to a truly great sanga is texture. The dryness and chewiness of the bread wants an oiled and moist filling to rub up against. Never too complicated, great sandwiches are always the perfect creation of just a few, well chosen ingredients, and in the perfect amount. Amounts are crucial, too much here, too little there, and the whole operation falls to proverbial pieces. The Science of Sandwich has so many unspoken rules: never put tomato up against the bread itself, it needs a little avocado or gorgeous butter or oil to act like a barrier between it and the bready surface, otherwise you are doomed to wander like a lost and unsatisfied fool in the eerie Land of Sog. Ying goes with Yang. Sweetness needs saltiness. Lightness needs oiliness. Creaminess needs sharpness. They're an age old balancing act, sandwiches. The seemingly simple things in food and in life are always the most difficult to master, but so delicious when you do.

Over perfect pots of steaming green we tucked into a wonderous chicken with tarragon and just enough mayonaise, a beautiful fresh sandwich with creamy chicken cut beautifully with tarrgon kick (duh). We ordered this one fresh, but got the pesto, mozarella and eggplant toasted to within an inch of its perfect, oiled life. The little holes in the sourdough provided the perfect portal for some dreamy in green pesto ooze. They are so deep and rich, these sandwiches. It's not just the beauty of their wonderfully baked bread (of which the Kamut Sourdough still reigns supreme in my mouth), but the preciousness of the fillings. Sonoma never over fills their sandwiches, they are as thick with bread as they are with filling, and this is as they should be. Sandwiches are a way to enjoy bread, the filling is the accessory, but never the murderer. God, listen to me getting a bit preachy. Serves me right for making fun of Hillsong. This really is sandwich perfection, though, when I want an amazing sandwich I always go to Sonoma, and walk away happy and sighing. It aint all sangas, though.

The Honey Spice muesli, The Jessica Rabbit of the Breakfast World, which I have already raved about in a former post is also up for crunchy, munchy, nutty, mapled grabs, if you can handle treading water in your own drool, that is. Also about to be grabbed by sticky fingers are some delicious baked goods. 'Baked goods', fuck, I love those two words next to each other, they're a linguistic Romeo and Juliet. Baked Goods mean croissants, tarts, muffins, sticky somethings in shapes that are familiar with names I didn't bother finding out. All wholesome and cinnamon sprinkled, they look like they're made in the kitchen of a farmer's wife, rather than in a commercial kitchen. They beckon out to you, all in intense curves and shapes of luminous, sugared surrender. The gentle arc of a beguilingly buttery croissant (perfectly flat and low and never too puffy) ... the slight but sumptuously, saccharine summit of a maddening muffin, utterly undulating..the aimless ability to always abuse the arcane art of Amandaish alliteration...the architecture of my innermost desire. Oh, Sonoma. The first and still the best.

This is wholesome, luscious food, perfectly put together and lovingly prepared. It's rich food, but beautifully so, the quality of the ingredients is obvious even to non-foodies. When you eat here you eat well, I always enjoy a visit. The servings at Sonoma are never too much, it's the perfect place for breakfast, afternoon tea and general kind-treating of the belly. Tats saw these pictures and knew it was a Sonoma piece before I told him. Not surprising, the quality of the food and how amazing it tastes is all there in the way it beautifully looks.

Bread, love, Celeste and communal table. It's the stuff perfect mornings are made of.

I usually drop in at the glebe outlet, at 215 Glebe Pt Road. The Paddington store is a bit bigger, at 241, Glenmore Rd. And the Waterloo denizen of devilish delight is at 24/198-222 Young St.

Try a Sonoma sandwich at least once in your heathen life. It's like you died, and went to earth.

Anything else is just plain crummy.

ps..my normal lens is screwed, until it's fixed, it's all macro x.

7 comments:

Reemski said...

once a fortnight you will find me there early on a Sunday morning worshiping at the altar of Sonoma, and attempting to fight off the hillsongers who get between me and bread!

Sweets By Vicky said...

i ADORE the name of your blog.

dan said...

You can make better sandwiches than those bub

sarah said...

I just stumbled upon your blog, and am so glad I did. You are really funny, did you know? You also write really.. engagingly? (I hope that's a word..). So yes, hope these compliments brighten your day a little :)

amanda said...

aww, shucks! thankyou sarah, lovely of you.

Anonymous said...

Just to make it more interesting, did you know Sonoma is owned by a Jehovah's Witness? Don't tell Hillsong.

amanda said...

heh. that makes this whole piece a bit poorly aimed, then!