Shrieks could be heard from the Style editorial office when news broke that Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream had hit our sunny shores.

For years now, I've listened to friends and family rave about this iconic American ice-cream brand, and now I've had the opportunity to try it, I know what all the fuss is about. It's good – really good. And I may or may not have just polished off the last of the Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough in the Style freezer (hello, eight months' pregnant... resistance is futile). Sorry guys.

With the arrival of Ben & Jerry's being the talk of the town, it's become apparent that ice-cream is a highly contentious subject. After taste-testing Phish Food, two Stylers controversially denounced the brand (we didn't argue with them because we wanted to eat their share).

My husband has also flat-out refused to try it, claiming there is no ice-cream brand that can compete with the mighty Home Ice-Cream ("It's made in Toowoomba!"). He's obviously biased though, seeing as his first job was as a Home Ice-Cream delivery boy. His uniform comprised a Home Ice-Cream shirt with matching short-shorts, and the old ladies in Mackay used to stop him just so they could pinch him on the bum as he climbed into the refrigerated van to retrieve their order. So clearly there's some fond memories affecting his judgement.

Haters to the left, I say. The proof is in the pudding, and as far as this ice-cream addict's concerned, Ben & Jerry's is the bomb.

What's your favourite ice-cream brand? Tell me in the comments below.

Despite being a lover of fine food, I'm partial to the odd dose of junk food, and my number one weakness (besides cheeseburgers) would have to be the dagwood dog. 

No one else seems to share my enthusiasm for them, though. Fine – I know the concept of a battered sausage on a stick is disgusting, and it's possible the appeal lies in the fact that I only get to eat them once a year when the Ekka rolls into town (a good thing for my waistline and my arteries).

When selecting a dagwood dog, it's important to observe these rules:

1. Don't buy the first one you see. There's a big difference between a bad dagwood dog and a good dagwood dog. You want one with plenty of batter, and make sure you instruct the vendor not to skimp on the tomato sauce. 

2. I like to match my dagwood dog with a can of Pasito. No other soft drink will do. Water? Forget it! You need something to cut through the copious amounts of grease.

3. Don't be tempted by accompaniments such as hot chips. This will undoubtedly prompt your internal organs to complain.

4. Avoid sideshow alley rides for at least 45 minutes after ingesting your dagwood dog. Specifically the Gravitron.

I've also put together a rookie's guide of food to avoid at the Ekka:

Buttered corn cob: What the hell is this? Vegetables on a stick? No no no. A travesty to carnival food. Grab your corn, your vitamin water and your Diabetic Living showbag and take a hike, pal.

Fairy floss in a bucket: Most often seen on the arm of anorexic-looking adolescent girls. It may be fat-free, sweetheart, but your pancreas has just packed its bags and purchased a one-way ticket to Del Boca Vista, Florida.

Pizza: Four words – "at your own risk".

Cream-filled "waffles": Yeah, I don't know who came up with this concept but they need to be shot. According to my North Queenslander husband, these were all the rage at the Mackay Show when he was a kid. Whatever. This is the big smoke, and we've no room for your small-town pseudo treats. Wanna see what a real Ekka dessert looks like? It's called a strawberry ice-cream.

What's your favourite Ekka treat, and what carnival food wouldn't you touch with a ten-foot pole?

Style ed Cassie and I were just talking about how certain foods can transport you straight back to your childhood. Namely, her brother’s obsession with Poppy custard powder mix, which he laps up by the bowlful.

I have a similar affinity with Sizzler cheese toast and Kraft instant Mac ‘N Cheese. Gourmet? Hardly. Nutritionally sound? Err, no. Undeniably tasty in the way only the junkiest of junk foods can be? You better believe it.

I went to Sizzler for the first time in about 10 years the other evening. Not my choice, but the second the cheese toast was delivered to the table, I fell into what can only be described as a cheese toast trance. I don’t know what they put in that stuff, but it can’t be legal. I inhaled three pieces before I remembered the potato skins and hastily headed for the salad bar. I may also have drunk post-mix creaming soda. Thanks for the memories, Sizzler – see you again in 2020.

Which foods take you back to your childhood?  
 

I've been baking up a storm this weekend and thought I'd share with you an old favourite of mine – choc apricot and oat slice. Better than any store-bought muesli bar and a lot more satisfying. Enjoy!

Makes approximately 20 pieces

Ingredients
1/2 cup self-raising flour
1/2 cup plain flour
1 cup rolled oats
2/3 cup desiccated coconut
2/3 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
2/3 cup dried apricots, chopped
3/4 cup choc bits or chopped chocolate
125g butter, melted, cooled
1 egg, lightly whisked
Extra butter for greasing pan

Method
Preheat oven to 180°C. Brush a 17 x 27cm slice tray with melted butter to lightly grease. Line the tray with baking paper, including the sides.Sift the flours into a bowl, then add the oats, coconut, sugar, apricot and choc bits, and stir to combine. Make a well in the dry ingredients and add the melted butter and egg (make sure the melted butter is not too hot, otherwise it will start to set the egg). Use a wooden spoon, then your hands to combine. Spoon mixture into prepared pan and press it down until it is evenly distributed. Bake for 20 minutes or until golden (set on middle oven rack for best results). Remove from oven and allow to cool completely. Cut into squares to serve. Store in an airtight container for up to a week.

As you may or may not have noticed in July's imprint (that little panel at the front of the mag that lists the Style staffers), I'm notorious for my catchcry "What's for lunch?"

Yep, I'm always on the lookout for new lunch spots, and last week I found two beauties. Firstly, Style ed Cassie and I met up with a friend for lunch at Vapiano in the City, which I've been hearing a lot about. And for good reason, it seems. Where do you go when you don't want to go food court slumming but you don't have the time or funds for a restaurant meal? Well, judging by the hordes of city workers lining up at its counters, Vapiano is the hot ticket. 

The food's fresh and tasty. We shared two salads (Insalata Caprese, $11, and Insalata Di Rucola Con Parmigiano, $9, with prawns, $3.50), a pizza (Rucola, $13) and a pasta (Pappardelle Carbonara, $15). The desserts on display looked divine (tiramisu, naturally, among others) but we'd already overdone it so that will definitely be on the agenda for our next visit. 

What I like best is the swipe card system – you're given a card which records all your purchases, so you can enjoy your lunch with friends without having to whip out iPhones to calculate who's paying for what at the end.

Yesterday I rounded up a group of friends to join me for "Yummy Cha" at Siana Valley, which is held every Saturday and Sunday from 12pm to 3pm. The food was out-of-this-world good and so much cheaper than normal. For example, the peking duck wraps (heaven on a plate) will normally set you back $19 for a plate of four, but during Yummy Cha you can order a plate of three for $10. We feasted on those as well as barbecue pork buns ($9 for 3), seafood balls ($9 for 3), pork belly ($12 for five pieces) and crispy chicken spring rolls ($6 for six pieces).

We wisely left room for dessert though – coconut fried ice-cream, $6. One word? SUBLIME. Think homemade ice-cream coated in crispy crumbs and coconut flakes, drizzled in honey and toasty flaked almonds. "A life-changing experience" was the consensus. I'm making Yummy Cha at Siana Valley a Sunday lunch tradition, starting from now. See you there.

By Nadia Correnti, food writer

Men are from Mars and women are from Venus, and that doesn’t just apply to relationship foibles. I’ve noticed lately that we also have very different attitudes when it comes to dining out.

Take complaining, for example. If something’s not right with my meal, I don’t see why I shouldn’t speak up and have the problem sorted. My husband, on the other hand, would prefer to suffer in silence, eating steak so overcooked you could play air hockey with it, or chicken so underdone you’d swear it was themed for Think Pink month.

We were eating out with another couple recently and when our meals arrived, mine was so oversalted I could barely eat it. Considering we’d waited a good 40 minutes for our meal to arrive, I was starving, and rather peeved that the only edible part of my meal was the garnish. “You’re not going to cause a scene, are you?” my husband asked, looking slightly panicked, as if I might leap out of my chair and hurl the plate across the restaurant in a fit of rage. (Which, for the record, I’ve never done.)

Then there was the time we were having breakfast at our favourite café, and I was given a water glass with a lipstick stain on it. When I politely asked for a replacement, he shook his head at me with a look that said “troublemaker”. “So you’d drink from a dirty glass?” I challenged him. “Just drink from the other side!” he said, rolling his eyes.

My friend Fiona has the same issue with her fiancé. He hates it when she complains about her food not being right, or not arriving in a timely manner, and can’t understand why it’s that big a deal. Well, why is speaking up such a big deal?

As long as you speak to staff politely and your request is legitimate and reasonable, I don’t see the problem. It is a problem if you sit there, eat your entire meal, then claim it’s unsatisfactory and demand a reduction on the bill. Or badmouth the restaurant to anyone who’ll listen when you didn’t even give them a chance to fix things.

Do you complain? If so, what for? Do you also give praise when praise is due?