Barossa > Adelaide
With the winery-oriented part of this particular odyssey concluded, when we rose the following morning the major cause for concern was the direction likely to be taken by the weather rather than the direction we’d be taking to the nearest vineyard.
The morning, when I peeked outside, looked overcast and unpromising (at least as far as sightseeing was concerned) but we ventured back across Stockwell Road towards the Farmers’ Market. As you’d suspect, as soon as we were actually inside the old Vintners Pty. Ltd. warehouses the rain decided to take a temporary break.
Like most blokes I’ve somehow managed to avoid acquiring the shopping gene, so I must admit to not being over-big on markets, but Madam likes to browse, so I wandered more or less in her wake checking out the goods on offer. There wasn’t a great deal in the arts and craft line on offer, and most of what was there could have been interesting if we were staying longer, particularly if the accommodation had cooking facilities.
While I would have liked the opportunity to pick up some of the delicacies on offer (Thai duck sausages, anyone?) common sense prevailed and we ended up leaving with a variety of tasty baked delicacies for breakfast along with a couple of interesting lightweight culinary items (olive oil and dukkah) and some jam for Madam’s breakfast once we’d returned to the Little House of Concrete.
Once we’d got breakfast out of the way there wasn’t much to keep us unless I weakened and took up the suggestion that I might choose to visit a vigneron, should I feel so inclined. That would, however, have involved making a decision, and I was (to be quite honest) just about tasted out so we hit the frog and toad electing for the scenic route into Adelaide via Eden Valley, Mount Pleasant, the Big Rocking Horse at Gumeracha and the North East Road.
Predictably, once we’d been to the Eden Valley Lookout and decided that there was no point in taking photos the weather improved. After a short break at the Big Rocking Horse where I took the time to reassure myself about the route into downtown Adelaide.
On the way out of the city four days earlier, Madam had remarked on the driver-friendly layout of the city and I was inclined to agree as we found our way into the city centre along a very easy-to-follow route and we were refuelling the car at the servo around the corner from the Hertz depot at around eleven-fifteen.
Once the car had been returned I’d been quietly hoping that actual or impending rainfall would give us an excuse not to hoof it over the five or six blocks to the Hotel Grand Chancellor, but that wasn’t to be so we set off with Hughesy lugging the luggage as Madam led the way.
A sudden change of direction which resulted in the snapping of the remaining handle on Madam’s sports bag (t’other had decided to break en route to Meleden Villa) complicated matters and the process of checking in incorporated inquiries as to places where a replacement could be bought.
Once the purchase had been accomplished we were at a loose end apart from such mundane matters as finding somewhere for lunch. We eventually settled on an upstairs Italian eatery where, predictably, my lasagne was dwarfed by Madam’s order of calamari with chips and salad.
As we settled the bill I spotted an interesting consequence of the antismoking legislation that’s currently stalking the nation, a notice stating that, in view of the number of patrons stepping outside for a ciggie and failing to return, customers requiring a nicotine fix were required to lodge their wallet, credit card or car keys as a deposit.
We took our time walking back to the hotel through the Rundle Street Mall and eventually got back to base around three, allowing me some time to catch up on the travel journal while Madam rested before a late afternoon stroll to scope out the neighbourhood.
An unexpected phone call advised us that the planned dining arrangements were a late scratching, so we wandered off around six looking for an interesting option in the Hindley Street end of town.
We eventually settled on Le Corner Bistrot, managing to grab what was probably the last available table in a classy little establishment offering French cuisine in the classic style.
After lengthy consultation I opted for one of the daily specials, a mushroom vol au vent, followed by an entrecote with green pepper sauce, while Madam’s choice was a main course of ocean trout. When the vol au vent made its appearance I was surprised to find the puff pastry layered over and under the mushroom filling rather than encasing it, but the taste was superb and the sauce gave us something to talk about while we waited for the mains to arrive.
That took some time since the place had filled since our arrival and the kitchen wasn’t exactly the most spacious one you’ve seen. The mains were, however, well worth the wait and we wandered room-wards pleasantly sated with the prospect of Iron Chef, Rockwiz and Crabtree Tempranillo to look forward to.