Eoin Young: 12-03-03

11/03/2003

May I be permitted to say that the Pie Floater is Australia's finest (only?) example of haute cuisine, however 'umble it may seem in Rebecca's recipe. The Pie Floater can change lives. Nigel Roebuck, formula 1 editor for "Autosport" might well accept Presidency of the PFSC if approached with the correct measure of best French vin rouge. The Buck is something of a connoisseur of comestibles and yet he rates the Pie Floater highly.

We were in Argentine for a Grand Prix in the 1970s and dining at one of those barbecue places where you don't order, you just sit and choose whatever bits of cow the waiters are bringing around, threaded on a sword. Steaks, chops, sausages…you get the picture. I am getting into the swing of things but The Buck is sitting beside me and resolutely refusing every offering. I asked if he was maybe not feeling up to scratch. He turned and said firmly "I-don't-like-wog-grub!' So he sat there all night and the only thing he took by mouth was wine. So you get the picture of a superscribe who is a tad careful about what he stows away.

Now we move half a world away in the same lower hemisphere to Adelaide, the city I always regard as the true and rightful home of the Grand Prix, a city that was in love with the formula 1 circus. Half of the people in Melbourne don't know the race is on and the other half knows it's on but doesn't give a toss. The Buck doesn't go to Melbourne but he loved the race in Adelaide. (Actually the reason he doesn't go to Melbourne is because the world has run out of airlines that allow you to curtail you life with cigarettes and Mr Roebuck is convinced that 20-odd hours in the air without a fag would result in him slitting his wrists. Or maybe the wrists of the hostess who is refusing to let him smoke..)

Excuse me digressing still further, but I must pass on the tale that The Buck tells of a domestic flight within the U.S.A. He is sitting in an aisle seat and the hostess (or do we call them Flight Attendants in these time of political correctness?) who was, er, well endowed in the chestal area, was leaning across to serve the passenger in the window seat. The Buck has his immediate horizon obscured by mammaries and he said the hostess just beamed down at him and said "They are, aren't they..!" Well, I liked it.

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