Going out in town is a tough business these days. Bars used to offer three types of beer and any food you liked as long as it could be deep fried. Nowadays, you need a thesaurus just to get through the beer menu and an intimate knowledge of the culinary vernacular of seven languages to order something from the kitchen.
Of course, much of this can be blamed on passing fads, which explains why every second food outlet in New Zealand is now selling tacos and why people insist on ruining perfectly good smoothies with kale and chia seeds. This will pass, of course, and we'll move on to the next exciting culinary wonder, like coffee from the undigested beans shat out by monkeys.
Sometimes, though, one pines for the classics, the things that remain unaffected by changing tastes or the petty whims of a fickle taste bud. Sometimes, you just want to go the tried and tested route. And why? Well, because these things are comforting, invariably satisfying, and unfailingly familiar. Because, you can trust them.
Which brings us rather neatly to the small matter of the buffet of brawn that Steve Hansen and friends stand before. Oh, how onerous the task ahead of this coaching team, knowing full well they must make some sacrifices at the selection table. The range is so vast, yet the plate is too small.
The choice is staggering, really. There is all manner of spicy numbers to choose from: fragrantly seasoned stars of Super Rugby, triple hopped, double malted, cask conditioned athletes, and flame-grilled wunderkinds. How could they not want a taste of it all?
