ANZAC Biscuits > Hot Cross Buns | Beyond The Pass

I love ANZAC biscuits. 

They’re like a more delicious, easier-to-make version of an Easter hot cross bun. And for those of you who think hot cross buns are all they’re made out to be, try and find them in your local shop even a week after Easter. 

You won’t be able to because they’re boring little sticky bread rolls where the raisin is the the most-exciting part—the raisin, people! 

Do you know what you will find? ANZAC biscuits, all year long, because they’re delicious and don’t allow raisins anywhere near them.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah.

ANZAC Day is fast approaching (I know, right?). For those of us in hospitality, this means one thing: the crowds are coming.

There’s nothing Australians love more than a public holiday. It’s an opportunity for us to indulge in an extra day of debauchery, either with the knowledge that we’ve timed our annual leave to perfection, giving us another long weekend to sleep things off, or with a zen-like acceptance of the severity of their upcoming hangover.

And us hospo folk are here to facilitate and regulate.

One thing you’ll quickly learn is that ANZAC Day starts early. If you’re up for it, I highly recommend opening your café early too. Rarely has the early bird gotten such a big worm as on April 25th when a café opens in the wee hours of the morning.

And look, it sucks getting up even earlier than you already do, but there’s a different kind of gratitude from customers who are only used to seeing 3 am at the end of a session. When they see the lights of your café on and smell the coffee as it dances on the cool, morning air, you become their new messiah in an instant.

Flocks of dawn service attendees will make the pilgrimage to your café to worship at the altar of La Marzocco. Every coffee you serve will be ordered with an extra shot, most times even a third! Ka-ching much?When that warm cup of java hits their cold hands, there’s a glint in their eyes that all but confirms their unyielding commitment to spreading your gospel.

So, if you’re within shouting distance of a war memorial, staff up. That might sound a bit crass on such a solemn day, but you’ll be helping people by making it that little bit easier to show their respects.

Regardless of whether they had a triple-shot flatty at 3:30 am or not, most people will need an extra pick-me-up to stay awake and power through. And guess who opened early enough to get into their good graces and, as a result, will be the first place they call?

That’s right, it’s you!

This time, they’ll be after breakfast, too, and maybe an ANZAC biscuit for good measure, because why not? 

So get the best public-holiday-aligned treats and about a million bacon & egg rolls prepped, because you’re gonna need ‘em.

As for your team, roster them to finish before noon, they’re watch is done.

Hey, even consider closing altogether, because if they’re not in your café lining their stomachs for an absolute session beforehand, they’ll already be on the schooeys, and a café lunch is the furthest thing from their minds.

And that brings me nicely to the other side of hospo: the pub.

If my memory serves me correctly (talk about a long shot), you can start pumping out crispy schooners of amber nectar from 10 am. I cannot be certain about this, and I am not Google, so please don’t ask me to double-check.

Morbid as it may seem, you’ll want to take advantage of these early customers before 1 pm when the RSL clubs and bottle shops start trading.

Then there’s the Two-Up.

Two-Up fascinates me. In a nation strangled by gambling addiction, where every pub and club has its own TAB, or pokie room (VIP Lounge to those of us in denial), or both, here’s a game that is illegal every day of the year except ANZAC Day. Somehow feeding people booze in the same place as the bookies and a machine that literally tells you it’s gonna take your money every day of the year is no big deal, but flipping two coins in a pit is?

As far as I can tell, this is because of two things.

Firstly, it’s untaxed, so the government wouldn’t like to see it happen all the time because they want their piece of the gambling pie (shoutout Mike Baird #throwbackFriday). 

Secondly, it’s unregulated. And no, giving the guy who runs the trivia a microphone and a speaker doesn’t count as regulation in my book, and it shouldn’t in yours either. Things can get out of hand very quickly.Case in point, I comforted a bloke who had gambled away his car on ANZAC Day because losing all of his money wasn’t enough of a hit for him.

Regardless of these things, you should hold a Two-Up game wherever possible. All you need is a slab of wood, two coins, and a car park big enough to house a bunch of people waving notes on the top of their head and/or bum. It’s a wonderful dance performed but once a year, and today’s the day the music plays.

As the night stretches on, your venues should be starting to resemble the apocalypse. But even people in desolate dystopian landscapes need to eat, so be prepared for the influx of schnitzel and parmy orders come dinner time that are as inevitable as the property damage you’ll be finding tomorrow morning.

A curious thing happens in bistros across the land on nights like this. In every kitchen, be it big or small, Head Chefs suddenly vanish, leaving the Sous to run things in their absence. This leads to absolute carnage, resulting in a long-abondoned snake of dockets spewing out of the kitchen printer, and longer waits on food than the break between Avatar movies.

Avoid this by not letting your Head Chef roster themselves off on Anzac Day. They will try nonetheless. 

After dinner service, the night almost always descends even further (as if that were possible) into Dante’s Inferno. Having a good security team pays off during this time because you’ll be cutting people off quicker than a lottery winner. 

These people will not support your decision.

So, this ANZAC Day, regardless of where you work in this industry, remember that you and your team are in this together. Be nice to one another; your patrons have most likely been awake for about a million hours, so they’ll be like big, cranky, drunk babies. 

And remember, hot cross buns drool, ANZAC bikkies rule.