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Back on the highway we ran in through Tully, Innisfail, Babinda and Gordonvale through threatening cloud cover, and had a minor hiccough when faced with a choice of routes into the Cairns CBD.  I chose the one I thought would have better traffic flow, but it was a case of varying mileages and dissenting opinions when we arrived at the destination just after four-fifteen.

Given the time you need to check in, shift gear, survey the surroundings, assess things in general and an hour and a half's rest we were off to put the car to bed just after six, returning about half an hour later after being dropped off by a Car Carer on her way to ukulele practice.

Cairns Hotel View.jpg

There was never much doubt about where we were headed for dinner, since the Cairns operation of the Roma Trattoria probably had Spaghetti alla Scoglio on the menu. They did, so that was it, the judge's opinion was final and there was no correspondence to be entered into.

There was, however a bit of discussion over a suitable wine to go with the heaping plate of seafood and spaghetti that was on its way. There were a good half dozen by the glass offerings I would have been happy to go for, but we ended up choosing an unwooded Chardonnay and a King Valley Pinot Grigio, which were both quite tasty though the Chardonnay finished about half a length ahead of the Grigio. 

No prizes for guessing who ended up with the Grigio.

Before the arrival of the platter itself a helpful server delivered a pair of finger bowls and a pair of receptacles for shells and other detritus before a more practical colleague decided two of each was slightly over the top and halved the allocation. As it turned out we could definitely have used another finger bowl, but that was the only possible subject to gripe about.

Walking back to the Cairns Plaza Madam reckoned what we'd just had almost matched her first encounter with the dish in their Carlton operation. I'd had a risotto that time around, but we'd had another go on a return visit in Carlton and again four and a half years ago, and I was inclined to agree that this one was the best of the last three.

Back at base I wandered into the bar downstairs for a cleansing ale before the regulation tapping out of travelogues, with about two-thirds of the prelude completed by the time I decided to call it a night around nine-fifteen.

© Ian Hughes 2012