Agent Orange

If there’s one thing that I love, it’s getting out of Sydney and enjoying cheese, in situ, at various locations around Australia and the world.

Last year, when I went to Paris and promised to cram you full of cheese blog posts like proverbial chestnuts in the squirrel cheeks of life, I truly disappointed you. I’d like to say it was because I got to Paris and it turned out their cheeses were really lame. But that would be a lie.

The real reason was that I was hit with a giddying bout of food poisoning on my flight, and had what shall hereafter be known only by its elusive epithet – the Tokyo Stopover. Please note that I also intend this to be the title of my first break-out Glam Hair Metal album.

But I digress.

Last weekend I went to a wonderful little town known as Orange, about 3 hours west of Sydney where they were hosting the Food of Orange District festival, also known as the F.O.O.D. Festival (hey guys, let’s be fair, country folks prefer the simple things in life – like the smell of a wheat harvest and outrageously contrived backcronyms).

Despite the fact that I’ve been visiting Orange for nigh on a quart-score (country talk for 5 years), I’ve never been to the F.O.O.D Festival, and I loved it! Some may say it was because of the night markets, complete with several glasses of Black Shiraz from Mortimers Wines. Some may say it’s because of the pâté I bought at the produce markets (which-i-totally-didn’t-eat-before-now-and-I-can-produce-a-photo-of-it-whenever-I-want-cause-it’s-delicious-and-uneaten). Some may say it’s the delightful dinner we had at the Racine Restaurant for a friend’s engagement.

There’s no one correct answer (B: Claire had one tub of pâté, and ate one tub of pâté far too quickly. Using the working space below, how many regrets does Claire have?)

Herewith, an image gallery of fun things in Orange.

"Borry" selling apples from Borrodell Vineyard.

Best friends 4 eva at the petting zoo.

Did I say the last one was my best friend? Ohhhh, that cute cow can cram it, because now I found THESE three! On closer inspection, the first one was a lamb, not a baby goat, but that doesn't mean she should be voted out of the group. She just wants to go to year 6 camp like the rest of you, and she promises not to tell Jess what you said behind the play equipment the other day.

Without baby goats, there would be no goat's cheese. I ate some of this delicious cheese (the one on the left, with the pesto) and it was truly amazing. 

I had it in a quinoa and roast lamb salad, with mung beans and cherry tomatoes. A nice tart flavour, without being too strong or goaty - a serious consideration when it comes to goat's cheese. I think it would work beautifully on pizzas, on crackers, in salads or just squirreled away in your cheeks for an after-dinner snack. 

I give the cheese 8 spuds.

And speaking of spuds...

...The potato stall. The man who ran this stall actually looked like a potato. But there was no way to take a photo without looking like a jerk from the big smoke. So I just photographed his delicious earth jewels and ran away.