Why You’d Want a Picture of a Bunch of Eggs Is Not a Bad Question
Why You’d Want a Picture of a Bunch of Eggs Is Not a Bad Question
Brekkie on the Great Ocean Road
The Princetown General Store and Café looked pretty promising. That is, my party and I were confident it would fulfill the promise of some type of breakfast in this desolate small town along Australia’s Great Ocean Road. It seemed like the only place in town to eat, but I didn’t understand why. Princetown lies just next to Port Campbell, home of The Twelve Apostles, a group of spectacular limestone cliffs rising from the sea that are visited by over one million tourists per year.
In any case, figuring it had to be a good thing that the area hadn’t become over-developed, we entered the General Store intent on encountering the type of “brekkie” that might adequately prepare us for visiting one of the Southern Hemisphere’s most impressive natural wonders.
Australia is a land awash in over-the-top breakfast propositions, cheffy creations that go far beyond the humble and delicious avocado toast. Days earlier in Melbourne, I had eaten at cafes whose menus read like a cross between Ottolenghi’s shopping lists and Dominique Ansel’s press releases. Harissa, labne, and dukkah comfortably coexisted with salted caramel, chocolate ganache-filled hotcakes, and all manner of flavored mascarpones. That’s not the type of thing we were up against in Princetown.
Inside the General Store, the interior decor was appropriately sparse: a few shelves stocked between one and two items each of staple dry goods. (If Vegemite is neither dry nor good, is it still a dry good? Discuss.) There was also a display rack holding brochures advertising local attractions. There were no avocados. Beyond a small counter there was a porch-like seating area and a picnic table overlooking the Gellibrand River.
Approaching the counter, we were met by the owner, Sharyn, and her son, looking frankly quite bored and a little surprised to have customers. I ordered a pretty typical fry-up (eggs, bacon, griddled tomatoes, and toast) and went out to the picnic table, passing the small kitchen area on my way. After a little while, the scent of bacon, as it is wont to do, began to waft outside, taunting me to go back in and take a photo of Sharyn making our breakfasts.
I’m not comfortable taking photos of people without asking, and I’m often too timid to ask. In this case, I had a feeling Sharyn might be a tough customer, but the photogenic scene unfolding in this rural Australian kitchen was, unexpectedly, a photographer’s dream. Each element of the fry-up was standing out in bright contrast to the black flattop griddle, steam was rising and fogging up the window, and Sharyn was presiding over the peaceful ritual with an unwavering concentration. I asked her if I could take some photos. Her response was something like, “Okay, but why would you want to?”
I could sense that Sharyn wasn’t wild about having her photo taken, so I took just one of her before focusing in on the eggs, bacon, tomatoes, and bread. I don’t think they cared.