Last weekend we were invited to a dinner party at our favorite Australian friends' house. I should probably tell you now, I think we have a couples crush on them.
The wife is literally My Favorite Australian, she is freaking hilarious. She reminds me of two of my closest friends in Florida; she swears like The Fiery Redhead, and entertains me like my girl the Orlando Blonde Bombshell.
So I had high expectations for My Favorite Australian's dinner party, I knew it was going to be a good time, and was not disappointed. Our lovely hostess broke the ice by whipping out her Cute Banker Husband's early-nineties, teenage modeling portfolio for some pre-dinner entertainment. I'm hoping she won't mind it when I say my favorite photos were the series of him wearing a unitard with a hat strategically placed over his package. Neh, she probably agrees.
During all of the teenage-modeling-photo-excitement My Favorite Australian flawlessly crisped potatoes, and made a red wine sauce, and I think she also made a Bernaise sauce-- or possibly Hollandaise sauce? Which ever it was, she did all of this after drinking about an entire bottle of wine. This being said, she is my hero because the food was incredible, beef wrapped in ham and tied up like a present with red string, amazing potatoes, and rocket salad.
Other dinner party highlights included:
- Me learning the word "pash" after ignorantly nodding and smiling as if I had a clue knew what they were talking about. I finally was advised that in Australian, "pashing" is kissing.
- A gravyboat with an attached underplate, filled to the brim with creamy sauce, being disastorously free-poured around the table, and eventually becoming the object of ridicule for it's design and lack of serving spoon.
- My Favorite Australian getting hiccups, then going outside to the trampoline to do drunken seat drops to get rid of them. Yes, it was successful.
- Post-dinner, My Favorite Australian was inspired to show us her moves, which in all of their awesomeness, looked like a solo version of this:
Then there was more good wine.
There was a delicious chocolate tart.
There was cheese plate.
When I saw Vegemite on the cheese plate I became concerned that I would be double-dog-dared to eat some. What the hell is Vegemite doing on a freaking cheese plate? That's just wrong.
(photo of the actual cheese plate)
My Favorite Australian told me it was actually quince paste, and it would "change my life". I was so relieved, and she was sooo right. This is why I bow down to this woman.
And at some point between the Pulp Fiction montage, and my quince paste moment, everyone was chanting "do it, do it, do it" as My Favorite Australian tried to get my politically-correct husband to yell swear words. Just thinking of him doing it was hilarious enough.
If I told you anymore I'd have to kill you, so I'll leave the story at that. Needless to say we had a very good time and are planning to invite them, and their friends, to our house for the next dinner party.
This past week my husband and I have reminisced about what a great time we had at their house. One night, around midnight, my husband says, "Think I should call them, say ______(insert their aforementioned profanity here) and hang up?" See, this is why I married him.
So now we have booked a holiday (that's all Australian for "vacation") to go to the Blue Mountains with them. This time we'll probably avoid going here, needless to say, I think it's going to be a good time.