Paragon parody

Speak science, philosophy, fine art and literature to me and you’ll find I’m a bit of a lightweight. Like a fish out of water, it doesn’t take long for my cerebrally challenged brain to flounder.

But I’d rather lack intellectual depth on some issues than carry the weight of the world around my arse. Tipping the scales at just 74kg, I felt decidedly Biafran when walking into Goulburn’s celebrated Paragon Café during the holidays.

A stack of 5kg jars of Nutella chocolate hazelnut spread sitting on the counter at the café’s entrance, and selling for a cool $65 each, signaled that this is the big end of town. The large pots matched the corpulent posteriors, which swallowed seats, and the flabby arms, which quivered in the air-conditioned cool.

Like father like son and daughter like mother, hungry hordes followed me in to this human feedlot. If there were such a thing as Wagyu Beef on two legs, I’d found it. The larger-than-life characters (think Bert Large in Doc Martin) made tracks towards the cosy booths that lined one side of the capacious eatery. In truth, they bore a much closer resemblance to old cows, big bulls, heifers, vealers and even young calves in high chairs, all of whom sat tethered as one gently masticating herd.

If the worms are biting and you’re keen for a feed, this place is heaven on a stick, or a battered sav if that’s more appetizing. But deciding on just what to eat at The Paragon is a weighty issue in itself. The glossy laminated menu stands proud atop each table. Taller than Westfield Tower and loaded with a food hall full of tasty offerings, the slightest puff of air sends it toppling over the salt and pepper shakers below. Too much choice? Never. After driving along a mind-numbingly boring freeway for three hours, my brain needed stimulation and my blood craved some sugar.

I knew this was no place to be asked, “would you like fries with that?” No, that’s a given. Of much more pressing concern was trying to decide on the most appropriate sauces for the courses: white wine sauce, creamy sauce, creamy satay sauce, creamy garlic sauce, mushroom, pepper, gravy and Diane sauce, cocktail sauce, creamy lemon sauce, French mustard in wine and cream sauce, and chili and honey sauce were just a few of the headline acts on a menu fit for a heart surgeon.

Being a “chips ahoy” kind of guy, I settled on a steak sandwich (and chips) washed down with a double-malt vanilla milkshake chaser. I was in hog heaven, chewing, slurping, burping and reveling in the like-minded cholesterol-type company. When it was time to leave and hit the highway, I resisted the temptation to buy Nutella, and instead settled on the sugar fix offered in a tin of Simpkins Travel Sweets. Now that’s what I’d call icing on the holiday cake!