Take it as a compliment that I’m telling you about Black Star. It’s hard enough to get into the place for my fix as it is, without having to squeeze past you (well, admit it, you are spreading a touch…aren’t we all?…as if this will help!).
At the best of times I feel like the 19th person trying to get into the phone booth, while the bored-as-batpoo Guinness book of records guy looks on…”no amount of free stout dulls this pain” he no doubt laments.
Chris The is the quintessential Aussie success story (yes, I’m doing cliche so soon..and only my 8th post). If you want to know the story, do what I did and ask him!
More taxing is the choice. It all looks exactly like the photos here. The lamb shank pie is so good, even the constituent ingredient is grateful for the kind embellishment. The strawberry, watermelon and rosewater slice is better known in the area than the 483 second hand clothing stores nearby.
The phrase “it’s all good” is as depressing as the poor excuse for beer it advertises. In this case it’s true. Every, single item is total bliss.
Every time I go in and have to choose what to eat, my brain short circuits. As Devo said in “freedom of choice”….
“in ancient Rome, there was a poem, about a dog, who found 2 bones. He picked the one, he licked the other. He ran in circles and he dropped dead” … too much choice…Black Star, I love you, damn you!