Grand Prix time in Melbourne - April 2006

Friday: No sooner had I recovered from the Commonwealth Games than it was time to pull out the glad rags and sparkles and go to the ball – the Grand Prix Ball, feted as one of the biggies on the Melbourne social calendar. The Palladium ball room at the Crown Casino looked absolutely perfect for the big night – the tables and chairs decked in snowy white, large blocks of ice drilled with holes to hold white flowers for table centerpieces.

Leo Sayer climbed on the catwalk and sang a bracket of songs that had us all up dancing and that’s when he grasped my hand and sang a few words dripping with sincerity – and then moved on to press the flesh with other women lining the catwalk. I swear he must have been holding one of those giant ice blocks before he went on stage as his hand was distinctly cold.

The place was stacked high with celebs and I learned that the pretty young woman sitting across our table was model Theodora Richards, 21-year-old daughter of Rolling Stone Keith and model Patti Hansen. In tow was a Melbourne lad, her boyfriend Paul Valmorbida “from the well known Toorak family” I learned from next day’s newspaper. I noticed Theodora obligingly got up from time to time to have her photo taken.

Can’t say I noticed her eating very much but that’s probably why she is very thin. 

Those of us for whom food avoidance is not a vocational requirement were presented with an interesting menu that read like a shopping list – the entrée was a lavash basket filled with lemongrass, curry and ginger-marinated crab salad, Western Australian marron, marinated scallops, asparagus and salmon caviar, all on one plate and not very large at all.

For mains, two cuts of lamb were presented together – roasted rack with a Mediterranean vegetable crust and honey mustard braised shoulder on truffled porcini mushroom risotto.

The dessert was an “iced gianduja (hazelnut chocolate) cone with raspberry financier, tuile and refreshing raspberry jelly, accompanied by Caribbean punch parfait.” I was a bit worried that there might be a raspberry studded banker or accountant sitting on the plate until I remembered a financier was also a small cake or cookie, made with ground nuts and whipped egg whites. It looked very pretty and definitely hopped on the scales with me next morning.

 

 

 

Saturday: The Spouse and I decided to exercise off the risotto we didn’t dance off the previous night and walked up to the Grand Prix circuit which is near where we live. I am no petrol head, even if I do own a boy racer, but it was interesting seeing what was producing the ear-shattering Doppler effect as we went through a tunnel under the track. I couldn’t believe the speed of the Formula 1 cars and I could only imagine the sort of lightning reaction times these young drivers must have. I am glad my sons use their own legs to move around in their sports of choice.

I was surrounded by people who knew far more about motor racing than I do, so I was soon learning about detachable steering wheels and tyre temperatures (wheels have hot blankets wrapped round them to heat them up - see above) and adding a lot of new jargon to my vocabulary. All this was garnished with a fine assortment of goodies from the kitchen in the suite where we were watching the action from.

Sunday: More of the same but there was the big Formula 1 race to look forward to in the afternoon. But first there was lunch - grilled green prawns with ginger and ponzu dressing, grilled swordfish with capers and olives, lamb cutlets, char-grilled asparagus, potatoes dauphinoise, goats' cheese rolled in roasted red capsicum, Cajun spiced chicken with minted yoghurt, and more besides.

We took a pit walk to see the exciting cars from close range. A memory that sticks is the smell of hot rubber as the tyres were heated up in their padded sleeves in readiness for the race. Any chef would be thrilled to run a kitchen as pristine and sparkling as the trackside workshops. There seemed to be rather a lot of very well painted young women bouncing about in abbreviated clothing, competing with the cars for attention (and getting it!).

Theodora was down there, cheerfully posing for photos with the race goers and I spied her and PC in the neighbouring suite during the main race.

Before the race started the dancing girls were out on the track out doing their thing. They all seemed pretty good natured, too. Even the one  being filmed upwards from waist level managed a keep smiling as she bounced along like a runaway tyre.

It was time for a piece of Sachertorte and then the race was underway. No need for me to provide a race commentary – the far more qualified have already done that. There was plenty of action, though, right through to the end when the Honda came in belching smoke and flames. Being a Honda owner myself, I felt a pang of sympathy for the driver, Jenson Button. At least he got out unscathed and put the steering wheel neatly back in place after he exited the cockpit. I would have run away from the chariot of fire with it still in my hand. But I guess the pit crew needed it to steer the smoking car out of the way. I noticed that racing cars have a pretty poor lock. It took quite a bit of manoeuvring to bring it back into the pit. It looked rather sad there, ironically labelled "Lucky Strike", as the victorious paraded along the pit strip. And I managed to catch a photo of the winner, Fernando Alonso (in the blue above right) after the race.

Mini shepherd's pies and Cornish pasties touched a nice spot after all the excitement. And then it was about time to go home. On the way out we decided to have a glass of bubbly at the Paddock Club bar and who should turn up across the way but my new best friend Leo. He even came over for a quick hello and another handshake. I am pleased to report on this occasion his hand was quite warm. He must have tried one of those tyre warmers.

Just before leaving, TV entertainment reporter Angela Bishop (that's Angela and me in the blue-tinted picture above) introduced me to popular newsreader Sandra Sully. Sandra and I were chatting on a bench waiting for the rest of our group to assemble when a couple of young chaps came up and politely asked if they could photograph her with one another. As they were fumbling with cellphones, I offered to shoot the three of them with my digital camera and email it on. Nice that at the end of a long day the newsreader smilingly posed with them. I hope they contact me for the photo – it’s a beauty. [Later: They did. That's Cameron and Tony with Sandra!]

Time to head home, but not before calling at a local Indian restaurant, for a tasty top-up of endorphins followed by a return to the diet. I wonder if Theodora ate today...