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COS Restaurant – 18 Leigh St, Adelaide

As an ex-pat Adelaidian, I have unrestricted license to bag South Australia for its idiosyncrasies and in total contradiction, I can easily defend my hometown to my heart’s content – particularly when football’s being discussed.

Most people are aware of the ongoing rivalry between Melbourne and Sydney or Sydney and Brisbane, but there’s also somewhat of a rivalry between Melbourne and Adelaide. Actually, it’s probably more apt to describe this as a fairly one-sided rivalry and most of Melbourne probably aren’t all that aware of it. If they are, they’re pretty coy about it…

“What’s that? Oh, it’s nothing. It’s probably Adelaide whinging that we’ve stolen something from them again”.

The Grand Prix hurt South Australian’s pretty hard. It’s still talked about like someone lost a close relative.

Fresh produce is a different story though. As much as I love Victoria and the ease in accessing seasonal, fresh produce, in my opinion SA reigns supreme in this neck of the woods. For mine, Adelaide’s Central Markets crap all over the Queen Victoria Market in quality, range and price. Then there’s the wine. Enough said.

When it comes to the restaurant scene though, Adelaide and SA has a bit of work to do. Other than reading a few things in national publications or indeed quality publications, like South Australia’s Sumptuous Magazine, there’s not much around to know what’s going on. Unless you have friends that are into that sort of thing. Most of mine aren’t. Review sites like Urbanspoon and other social medium (particularly Twitter) aren’t as widely utilised in Adelaide, as they seem to be in Melbourne or Sydney.

COS is a bistro-style restaurant in Adelaide that I’ve gone back to a number of times. It’s located in a side street called Leigh St, which links Currie St with the infamous Hindley St). In fact, with the number of restaurants that seem to be popping up in Leigh St, it’s starting to remind me of Hardware Lane, sans touts.

I reckon over the last four or five years, I’ve been there half a dozen times and I have recommended it at least another half a dozen or so people. The prices are reasonable; at least for a Melbourne person visiting Adelaide and it rates a sound 76% on Urbanspoon. Unfortunately it lacks the verbatim from punters, telling others about there experience. It seems more of the ‘in-vogue’ places are getting all of the review traffic and as COS is not offering Mexican street food or pintxos, which used to be known as tapas, albeit served on a toothpick (mum used to do that with Coon cheese cubes with cocktail onions. Little did she know she was ahead of her time), there aren’t many people writing on their experience.

COS have a plethora of oyster choices, featuring (no surprises) South Australian Pacific Oysters. You can have them natural, with lemon, lime and Tabasco syrup or an Asian lime, chilli and coriander, as a Bloody Mary shooter or perhaps their take on Kilpatrick, with speck and ‘killer’ sauce. Pardon the pun, but the world’s your (ahem) oyster.

On a recent visit, as much as I wanted some oysters, earlier in the day. I wasn’t feeling too oystery in the evening, which was a real shame. So, what to choose? I guess it’s hard to classify COS’ menu, other than bistro and a conduit to showcase local, fresh produce. It’s a little bit Mediterranean; chilli salt whitebait with lime aioli ($12.50) or braised, spiced meatballs with grana padano ($15.00) or you could go down the Central / South American route with ceviche of fish of the day with a ruby grapefruit, cucumber, radish, avocado, heirloom tomato and jalapeno salad ($16.50).

However, my dining companions and I settled on something to share after we’d demolished the warmed, house-made bread, dipped in a big bowl of fruity olive oil – the COS charcuterie plate, which featured a selection of finely sliced, air-dried bresola (the star of the plate), prosciutto, sopressa and pan fried chorizo with locally made pickles (cucumbers and mushrooms) and a stack of grilled sourdough ($12.50 per head). No complaints here, with the exception of who would eat the last piece of sopressa and sourdough.

For mains, the menu again sticks to the Mediterranean theme, with a bit of South America thrown in. The Suffolk milk fed lamb is served two ways; a prosciutto and rosemary saddle, a braised and pressed forequarter with accompanying fondant potatoes, seasonal mushrooms and beets, celeriac puree and a rosemary pangrattato ($35) or perhaps marinated chimmichurri gulf prawns, served with gazpacho salsa, avocado, lime and coriander salad ($32).

One of my dining companions settled on the roast ballotine of Barossa farm chicken, stuffed with roast garlic and a vegetable sofrito, red pepper and dried tomato fondant sauce, chorizo, purple garlic, gremolata and a polenta disc ($34). For the other two of us, it was about steak. One of my companions opted for the 300g grain-fed Coorong Angus scotch fillet, dry aged for 21 days ($40.50) and I went for what I think is the king of texture, a 300g grain-fed Coorong Angus entrecote, which was also dry aged for 21 days ($39.50). All steaks come with a choice of fat cut chips, truffle scented mash, duck fat roasted kipflers or hand cut fries and a choice of red wine jus, house-made mustards, green peppercorn jus, café de Paris butter, gorgonzola brandy butter or sauce béarnaise.

The steaks do require sides if you need something else other than starch (or more starch) and there is a good selection, from rocket leaf salad with pear and a balsamic glaze ($7.50), ceasar salad ($9), mixed heirloom tomato salad with olives, fetta and baby basil ($12.50) and several more to choose from. We settled on some reasonably healthy seasonal greens (Brussels sprouts, spinach and broccoli) with roasted almond & herb butter ($9).

I am happy to declare that this is probably the best steak I have had in a couple of years… well flavoured, great texture and perfectly cooked to order (medium rare). The let down was the red wine jus. It was the right consistency, but it simply lacked flavour. The “hand cut fries” were also disappointing. As much as they were probably hand cut, they were more like soggy, clumpy strings. It was good to see a small mound of seasonal freshly grated horseradish on the plate, but it lacked punch. The condiment winner by a mile was the house-made mustard. It was hot, a little tangy and had a wetter consistency than a mass-produced mustard. If they sold this by the jar, I would buy nothing else ever again.

My dining partner’s fat cut chips were what I should have ordered. They were fat cut chips, as advertised. My other dining partner’s roast ballotine of chicken featured two generous slabs of moist chook, perfectly seasoned. The accompanying bits and sauces worked well and the red pepper and dried tomato fondant sauce was stunning, flavoursome and colourful.

To drink, we were happy to relieve COS of a bottle of 2010 Atlas ‘Section 32’ Cabernet / Malbec ($50) from the Clare Valley.

Service on the night started well but slowly went south as the night progressed. After our mains were served, we struggled to receive any service and as a last resort (waiting at least 15 minutes with visibly empty glasses), we had to top up our own wine glasses. We could have also been convinced to crack open another bottle of Section 32, had the staff afforded us the opportunity. But it didn’t happen, which is their loss I guess. Our table was simply cleared of everything and robotically, dessert menus were plonked on the table.

If I lived in Adelaide and had the opportunity to take interstate or overseas guests out for a casual dinner and give them a good idea of what South Australian produce is all about; without the fuss and exorbitant cost, I’d take them to COS (if I knew the service was going to be OK). At the very least, this is one thing Victoria can’t take away from South Australia.

COS Restaurant
18 Leigh St, Adelaide
(08) 8231 7611
http://justcos.com.au/asp/home.aspx

Good For: Showcasing South Australia’s fine, fresh produce… That’ll teach them bloody Victorians!

Not Good For: Fries, jus and consistent service. Minor infractions.

COS Leigh Street on Urbanspoon

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North by Northwest: Cutler & Co’s Seaonal and Regional Produce Dinner

Getting to visit Cutler & Co has been a task. It’s not like I haven’t wanted to go there either. Firstly, there’s the gift voucher I received for my birthday last October that I still haven’t used (even though I have been assured it will still be honoured… and I will use it in the next couple of months. Promise).

Then there was my recent week’s stay in hospital, where from my window at St Vincent’s, I was compelled to gaze upon Cutler & Co’s facade whilst miserably consuming hospital food. There was a glimmer of hope when, after a few opportunistic tweets, I was to receive a ‘care package’ of tasty appetisers. But then I was discharged and my hopes were duly shattered.

Third time lucky came in the form of a phone call late last week from Essjay, asking if I would like to join her and Ed for dinner at Cutler & Co to celebrate Autumnal fare:

Me: When is it?
Essjay: Monday
Me: F*ckit! It’s my daughter’s fifth birthday. I can’t go [sobs hysterically]

Well that’s how I remembered the conversation. Crestfallen, I told Kate when I got home and surprisingly, she said I’d be mad not to go. She was sure that our daughter wouldn’t be too scarred for life. I wasn’t too sure, but who am I to argue with one’s better half? So I called Essjay back and it was game on.

I was extremely interested in celebrating seasonal and local produce from a particular region. I guess if we all lived on farms or had more time in our lives… or at least the inclination, I am sure we’d all be eating fresh, seasonal produce and enjoying things when they should be enjoyed – in their prime. Thanks to microchip technology and the like, we get stuff all year round these days, regardless of whether it’s any good or not. Gone are the days where you only could get asparagus when there was an ‘r’ in the month… or is that yabbies? I can’t remember. The point is most of us do not care enough to do too much about it.

Fortunately, Andrew McConnell and the team at Cutler & Co do care and last night was the first of a series of seasonal feasts that showcase the food and wine of regional Victoria. Their plan, as Mother Nature moves us into each new season, is to focus on a different part of Victoria and create a menu that highlights the freshest produce available for that region.

Last night’s ‘North by Northwest’ dinner focussed on the produce available in Autumn from Northern Victoria in the form of a five-course degustation, matched with local wines.

Proceedings opened with an amuse bouche of some simple, house-cured Manzanilla olives paired with a 2011 Galli Estate ‘Artigiano’ Pinot Grigio from Sunbury. The flavoursome and meaty olives were a great accompaniment to the clean, crisp and fruity wine.

Our first course combined cured and lightly smoked rainbow trout (from Wilhelmina, near god-forsaken Murrindindi, where I hate camping) with the mild, fresh herb of chickweed, a sharper citrus hit from some sorrel, texture and crunch from the smoky, almost bacon-like rye seeds, tangy crunch from pickled onion and cucumber and a fine quenelle of mustard cream. The 2010 Williams Crossing (by Curly Flat) Chardonnay from the Macedon Ranges complimented the citrus from the sorrel and still allowed the mild smokiness of the trout to come through.

Next up was a densely pressed pheasant terrine; three blocks garnished with bitter leaves, a sweet reduction, spiced almond crumb and topped with Cutler & Co’s signature foie gras cigar. As much as I tried to save my cigar to the very end to be enjoyed on its own, in a corner, by myself, I did the right thing and tried it with the terrine. With the exception of the most awesomely light and crunchy cigar filled with creamy, rich foie gras, the terrine was probably my least favourite dish of the night. By all means it was pleasant pheasant, but nothing remarkable to truly distinguish it as pheasant. It was just lost. Maybe it was just lost on me.

As for the wine, the 2010 Vinero ‘South Gisborne’ Pinot Noir, made by Cutler & Co’s Sommelier, Liam O’Brien, was an absolute cracker. Smooth, fruity with lots of cherry flavour. It was a perfect match.

My favourite dish of the night was the Sher Wagyu scotch, served with hay-baked carrots, watercress puree and char grilled garlic shoots. This was some of the most meltingly tender beef I have ever, ever eaten. Someone made the comment that it absolutely trounced Blackmore Wagyu and I tend to agree. The meat was perfectly cooked to a blushing rare to medium rare and lightly anointed with a delicious jus.

The char grilled garlic shoots and watercress puree provided different levels of freshness to counteract the richness of the Wagyu. Although I thoroughly enjoyed the sweet roasted hay-baked carrot, but I would honestly need a non-hay baked carrot to determine the difference the hay made as I failed to detect and flavours imparted by the hay. No surprises in the well matched limited release 2008 Heathcote Estate ‘Block A’ Shiraz. Ballsy, but not overly tannic… it was on the fruitier side, which is my preference.

The penultimate dish was the Holy Goat ‘La Luna’, served with poached quince and flaxseed lavosh. We were fortunate to be drinking a ‘project wine’; a 2009 Chalmers Passisto Malvasia/Picolit from the Murray Darling region. There was mild concern at the table as to how this sweet, but not too sweet wine would pair with the creamy, almost nutty and tangy goat’s chevre. It worked a treat and more so that the quince flavours were picked up in the wine. My favourite wine of the night (slightly pipping Liam’s Pinot).

Our last dish was a warming, rich pear and suet pudding with chestnut ice cream. The quenelle of ice cream could have been bigger, but that’s just me being greedy (it was adequately proportioned to the pudding). The pudding was light, not overly sweet, nutty from the chestnuts and a sign that winter will soon be on its way. The accompanying Harcourt Valley’s Bress ‘Bon Bon’ Cider aptly accentuated the pear in the dessert and was well balanced between the acidity cutting through the richness of the dessert, and its sweetness with neither the cider nor dessert dominating the other.

The night was a great celebration of produce at its prime, presented in the best possible way by one of Australia’s best chefs. If last night was anything to go by, I will look forward to seeing what the following seasons and regions bring to Cutler & Co’s table.

[farfromfamished dined as a guest of Cutler & Co]

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I’ve been AWOL…

So yeah, the 17th has come and gone and as you would well be aware, my inaugural Melbourne Fringe Food Festival Event; Beer & Cheese, has been placed on hiatus, largely thanks to my stupid intestine.

It’s been a long two weeks, which all started with doing something I do not enjoy (camping), resulting in being somewhere I did not enjoy (hospital).

To make a long story short, after camping for couple of days at Murrindindi (90kms North-East of Melbourne), I got sick on Good Friday evening with sharp pains in my lower-left abdomen. On Saturday, we decided to decamp and head back home and by Sunday morning, I had no choice but to head to St Vinnies as I was definitely not getting any better. 

I was evetually diagnosed with Diverticular disease, which is a condition in which small pockets occur in the bowel. These pockets (diverticula) can become infected (known as Diverticulitis), which were the cause of my pain, thanks to an aggressive infection, which I wholly and solely blame on camping.

Diverticular disease is not uncommon in Australia, or indeed the western world. Most people are considered to consume a low-fibre (a.k.a ‘Western’) diet, which results in your daily toilet routine requiring you to exert a little more pressure in your bowel for you to be able to ‘go’. Diverticular disease is thought to result from these high pressures forcing the lining of the bowel to pocket outwards through the surrounding muscle layer of the bowel. 

People who eat a diet high in fibre are much less likely to develop diverticular disease. However, about one-third of adults older than 45 years have diverticular disease, although for most their diverticula cause them no problems. 

I (at the tender age of 36) am considered to be on the young side to be diagnosed with this. However, I have since learned that my mum was diagnosed at the same age. Plus, there’s a history of bowel cancer on my dad’s side of the family, so in hindsight, I’d rather start to learn how to best prevent, monitor and minimise my chances of further infections or complications.

People diagnosed with Diverticular disease can pretty much live a normal life, albeit ensuring that they maintain a high-fibre diet to reduce the risk of symptoms and complications developing… and of course by drinking plenty of water, which I’ll admit is an area where I will need to improve. 

Lots of roughage is required, including fibrous fruits such as apples and pears, as well as vegetables, wholegrain cereals, legumes and so on. Only 30 grams of dietary fibre a day is required for people with Diverticular disease, which according to the Cancer Council Australia is also the recommended intake for males.

Funny, it should not be a problem for people to eat at least two serves of wholegrain or wholemeal foods every day or ensure about half of your daily serves of breads and cereals are wholegrain or wholemeal, as well as consuming at least two serves of fruit per day and five serves of vegetables per day, including legumes. But if one-third of adults older than 45 years have diverticular disease, clearly we are not getting the fibre we need.

So, not really a ‘food’ blog update, per se. But food-related, nonetheless and a little education for good measure. After a week in hospital and a week and a half’s worth of both intravenous and oral antibiotics, I’m close to being back to normal. Whatever normal is for me. 

As for Beer & Cheese, we’ll put it back in the calendar soon amongst all the other events that are taking place, so stay tuned. In the mean time, keep up the fibre and fluids and I promise I shall do the same.

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O’Connell’s Hotel – Cnr Coventry and Montague Streets, South Melbourne

There have been a few conversations over the weeks that we should commence revisiting all of the places that we’ve visited over the last six year’s worth of our semi-regular lunches. Upon throwing around some names of places we’ve been over the years, we realised it was remiss of us to overlook O’Connell’s (and The Montague, so that’s probably slated for next time).

South Melbourne and its immediate environs are littered with pubs that are seeped in history. Some choose to celebrate the pub’s rich past through preserving some of the old charm through new renovations. Others, like O’Connell’s, simply haven’t changed much therefore the old charm naturally still exists (as do the odd mix of pictures in the front dining room). This is not a criticism either (albeit, the jury’s out on the pictures though); it’s a comfortable pub and if I lived in South Melbourne, I’d probably choose to drink here. It’s a bonus that their kitchen is pretty decent as well.

It was reasonably busy on the day we visited. A good sign. Another good sign was our pre-entrée course of Oysters would also be fulfilled. Half a dozen each of freshly shucked Coffin Bay oysters ($3 each) were duly ordered with a bottle of crisp and refreshing 2011 Shaw & Smith Sauvignon Blanc ($50). The oysters lived up to expectation; they were freshly shucked and served simply with a lemon cheek. Also, rather than dealing with annoying rock salt which invariably goes everywhere, the oyster shells sat atop some very stiff, salty meringue. My only (personal) gripe was that the adductor muscle was still attached to the shell but I understand this to be a French thing to prove it’s from the actual shell the oyster’s presented in. Ah, you learn something every day…

Warmed baguette and unsalted butter were happily replenished several times upon our request.

Five entrées preceded five mains, plus a number of different cuts of steak that are cooked on the wood grill and a handful of specials. There is also a ‘pub favourites’ menu on offer with a further seven dishes, featuring some pub classics; a pie, a burger, schnitzel and so on.

For entrée, one of our party opted for the ceviche of Hervey Bay scallops with preserved watermelon, avocado, corn and curry vinaigrette ($19) and two of us ordered the Spencer Gulf king prawns with ox tongue sausage, capers, garlic, lemon and brioche ($19.50).

Upon arrival of the entrées, there was some conjecture and disappointment of the alleged accuracy in pluralising the word ‘scallops’ versus what was served. The scallops had been served shaved and the serving was scant to say the least. In fact, quite the contrary to the three plump, generously sizes prawns that adorned our plates. This feedback was constructively passed on to the kitchen. As for the scallop dish itself, it featured the most amazing preserved watermelon, which was meaty in texture and intense in flavour.

I’ve since learned the process to get your common garden variety watermelon to this stage from Chef, Paul Cooper. Needless to say, when I have a free weekend, I’ll give it a go. It’s more than worth it for the end result. The avocado, corn and curry flavours worked well with the other elements, although (no surprises) they were a little too dominating in the absence of some more scallop.

The prawns, to me, were ever so marginally overdone. However, the accompanying flavours and textures were extremely well balanced; crunch from the brioche croutons, a strong meaty flavour and texture from the ox tongue combined with some desired acidity from the lemon and capers in the butter-based sauce that brought the whole dish together.

For mains, we each agreed to select a different dish to sample as much as we could on the menu. My dining partners respectively went for the slow cooked pork shoulder with ragout of summer beans, gala apples and cider sauce ($33) and the (Farmer Joe’s) baby goat with pumpkin puree, smoked yoghurt, pumpkin seeds and spiced goat sauce ($34).

I chose the roasted duck breast with confit duck leg sausage, spinach compote, plum puree and roasted onions ($34). From all reports, my dining partner’s dishes were quite sound; the pork was meltingly tender and the crackling shard was good enough not to share with anyone else. The accompanying cider sauce had a good balance of sweet and tart to counteract the richness of the pig. Farmer Joe’s baby goat must have had a good life. The meat was sweet and tender and the smoky flavour and sourness from the yoghurt was perfectly in tune with the spiced jus. There’s no denying that O’Connell’s kitchen knows a thing or two about balancing flavours.  A dainty pithivier, filled with more goat meat, also featured on the plate.

My duck breast could be best described as amply bosomed. The skin was crisp and the meat had been well-rendered to leave just skin and meat. I would have preferred the meat a shade underdone than it was served, but that’s just personal preference. I would have also loved a good dredging of the accompanying just, but that’s just greed. The confit duck leg sausage provided some extra richness. Although we could have gotten away with no side dishes (all $9), we chose the sautéed green beans with bacon, almonds and brown butter. All beans… no, wait… all green vegetables should be served like this. Other sides are the usual suspects; Fries, mash and a salad option.

For dessert, we did exactly the opposite of our main selection. We all ordered the same thing; Melbourne city rooftop honey iced nougat with port poached pear, chocolate mousse and crystallized pumpkin seeds ($15). Although I could have gone for alternatives, like the sticky date pudding with English toffee sauce and treacle nut brittle ice cream ($15) or the bitter sweet chocolate tart with macerated cherries, cherry cream, candied bacon and orange ($15). Mmm… candied bacon; totally underutilised. We asked to try some separately and we were duly rewarded. My preferred version of a petit four.

To quickly digress, for the uninitiated, Melbourne City Rooftop Honey are Beekeepers that are bringing bees back to the city and the suburbs of Melbourne. The organisation ‘re-houses’ swarms of honey bee colonies into specified hived around inner-Melbourne. The output, of course, is honey made practically on your door step (or rooftop, as the case may be), which you can also buy on-line here. Please check out this very worthy project.

The honey was the star in our parfait-like nougat, closely followed by the support act in the form of a small quenelle of decadent chocolate mousse… any more mousse and it would have dominated. Another example of perfect balance in both flavours and texture; soft pear / crunchy sugared pumpkin seeds / icy nougat / silky mousse.

We rounded out proceedings with our usual road test of the cheese board, which was pretty solid in terms of generosity. Three cheeses at 50 grams per cheese ($28) were served with lavosh, quince paste, fresh pear and some of the most interesting dried grapes that almost tasted like dried apricot. The cheeses on offer were a French double brie, Manchego and a Gorgonzola.

With our mains and desserts, we drank the 2008 Craiglee Shiraz ($96). O’Connell’s wine list is extensive and covers both ends of the price spectrum very well.

Overall, O’Connell’s is providing some honest, (in parts) inventive and of course, tasty food at a price point that is smack bang where it should be for the experience and surrounds. The staff know their stuff and are attentive… even to accommodate requests like sampling some candied bacon. In the kitchen, Paul Cooper and his team, including Kiwi Stacy Thompson, are doing the right thing by the people of South Melbourne.

O’Connell’s Centenary Hotel
Cnr Coventry and Montague Streets, South Melbourne
(03) 9699 9600
www.oconnells.com.au

Good For: A great example of a true ‘Gastropub’ experience in Melbourne… even though I hate that term

Not Good For: Being a little too miserly with their scallops. But all is forgiven (hey, I didn’t order it)

O'Connell's on Urbanspoon

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Nice Buns…

For the last couple of years I’ve tried to get too fancy-schmantzy with my Hot Cross Bun recipes… I think it was last year that I tried getting all jiggy with Pedro Ximénez-soaked raisins with spiced apple and as much as they were OK (if not a tad brick-like); they are still in the freezer, which I guess is an indication that they weren’t all that popular. In fact I think I’ll throw them out right now…

… OK. Done. So this year it was time to go back to basics. Right on cue, along comes Essjay. Last night, she was tweeting that she was making some traditional and vegan Hot Cross Buns. My plea for her to make me some went deliberately unnoticed, so with a slight hangover and being cheated out of an extra hour’s sleep thanks to daylight savings ending (bloody kids), I decided that I’d give SJ’s recipe a go.

Essjay’s Traditional Hot Cross Buns

  • 14 g instant dried yeast (two sachets) (or 30g fresh compressed yeast)
  • 500 g (4 cups) plain soft flour (not bread flour, just standard plain flour)
  • 2 tablespoons caster sugar
  • 2 teaspoons mixed spice
  • 2 teaspoons cinnamon
  • ½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 40 g butter
  • 1 egg
  • 100 g currants
  • 50 g mixed peel
  • 20g diced citron, if available
  • some grated citrus rind (about 1 teaspoon)
  • 1 tsp sea salt

Paste for Crosses

  • 30 grams plain flour
  • ¼ teaspoon caster sugar

Glaze

  • 1½ teaspoons caster sugar
  • 1 teaspoon gelatine

In a Pyrex jug, I mixed the yeast with 2 teaspoons of flour (from the measured flour) and 1 teaspoon of caster sugar (from the measured sugar) with 125 ml of warm water. SJ specified 37 degrees Celsius, so I got out my trusty digital probe thermometer thingy and made sure the temperature was bang on. I left this on the window sill, which seemed warm enough for the mixture to get all frothy. In fact it wasn’t until Kate alerted me to the fact that it had started to escape from the jug was proceeding to run down the wall. At least my yeast was alive and kicking.

I was then required to sift the flour and salt into a mixing bowl of a stand mixer with dough hook attached. I didn’t sift my mixture because that seemed like hard work, as well as creating more dishes to wash afterwards, so I just dumped it into the mixing bowl. I then stirred in the sugar, the fruit and citrus peels. I didn’t have any citron either, so I upped the mixed peel by 20 grams. I also added more currants (around another 30 grams) because I like lots of fruit in my bun. The dry mix was combined with the dough hook for a few seconds to get the fruit coated all over with the flour.

The next step was to mix the spices with the softened butter to form a paste. I decided to skip that as it seemed like hard work, so I just added the spices to the flour and melted the butter in the microwave.

With my trusty Kitchenaid on a low setting of 2, I added the remaining wet ingredients; yeast goo, egg, butter and gradually added 130ml of warm water until the dough was soft and sticky. This took around 5 minutes.

So far so good. I was a little panicky there for a while, but then the Panadol kicked in and I finally got around to making myself a coffee. 

I scraped the mixture into oiled bowl, covered with cling wrap and placed it on the freshly cleaned window sill for an hour, which gave me time to wash last night’s dinner dishes, this morning’s dishes, pick up all of the currants that my one-year old daughter was squishing into the floor and play my turn for Dice with Buddies. 

Once the dough had nicely risen to around double its initial size, I turned the dough out and gave it a half-arsed knead. It’s meant to be until it becomes smooth. It was pretty close. 

I then pedantically measured my dough into precise 84gram balls to ensure I had twelve evenly sized buns. Our small Scanpan roasting tray looked close enough to the dimensions of a 19cm x 23cm square baking tin.

Covering my little babies with a tea towel, I left them for around 45 minutes until they had nearly doubled in size. Whilst this was happening, I mixed the flour and sugar for the cross mixture with 50mls of water and spooned the mixture into one of those disposable piping bags, ready for later on.

 

With the oven preheated to its highest setting, I piped on my crosses and judiciously followed SJ’s instructions to sprinkle the inside of the oven with water and immediately turned it down to 200ºC (195ºC fan -forced) for my buns to bake for 20 minutes. This gave me some time to clean the floor because most of the water leaked out of the oven.

Just before the 20 minutes was up, I made the glaze by heating the gelatine, sugar and two tablespoons of water until dissolved and brushed the hot buns with the glaze as soon as they came out of the oven.

I know I’m not going to win any awards for aesthetics. Ideally, I should have spaced my buns out a little more, but they broke away into their individual buns quite easily. And I think my cross mixture was a little too runny. Taste wise, they weren’t as sweet than I was expecting, but I liked it. Also, I would probably add a little more mixed spice next time.

As for texture, this recipe has produced the lightest, fluffiest bread or bun I have EVER made. Particularly given me and baking don’t get along too well, if I can have this much success with a hangover and lack of sleep, imagine how well you’ll fare.

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UPDATE: Fringe Food Festival Event – Beer & Cheese 17 April 2012

Blogging friend and Fringe Food Festival co-founder, SJ, fresh(?) from last night’s Four x Four (by 4) Nebbiolo & Beef Dinner has kindly released further information on Beer & Cheese, which is less than three weeks away.

Here’s the high-level stuff…

What: Tutored Beer and Cheese tasting, Dinner with drinks.
When: Tuesday 17th April 2012; 6pm start for Beer and Cheese Tutorial, 8pm start for dinner.
Where: Union Dining Terrace. 270-272 Swan Street, Richmond (enter via Brighton Street, head straight up the stairs)
How much:   $107  a person plus $0.30 booking fee
Booking:  ONLY VIA TRYBOOKING
Note: Please do not contact the venue about this event.  All enquiries are to be emailed to fringefoodfestival@gmail.com.

Some extremely passionate experts in their respective fields of cheese, beer and cheese with beer have generously given their time on the night, which will guarantee you an evening of fun, learning and absolute deliciousness.

Here’s the roll call…

Anthony Femia is the cheese guy. Anthony was recently inducted into the Guilde Internationale des Fromagers as a Garde et Juré and is an internationally recognised Cheesemonger who is passionately dedicated to the promotion and education of the wonderful array of farmhouse & artisan cheeses available from Australia and the world.

Dave from Mountain Goat Beer is the beer guy. ‘nuf said.

Scott Thomas is from the The Courthouse in North Melbourne, which is famous for its eclectic selection of craft beers and pioneer of the ‘gastro’ pub’ in Melbourne. It therefore stands to reason that Scott knows lots and lots about good beer and good food, so he will educate us with what works and what doesn’t and more importantly why.

The night will be hosted on the al fresco Terrace at Union Dining in Richmond, tasting and enjoying your way through nine specially selected cheeses that have been aptly matched with some craft brews. There may be things you’ve seen or tried before… Most likely things you haven’t seen or tried before and most definitely not at the same time (unless you’re Anthony. Probably.)

Once you’re all cheesed and beered out, the remaining room in your partially full tummies will be filled with a share-plate provincial European meal, served upstairs at Union Dining.

Yummo! Can you wait? I can’t. So, buy your tickets NOW… otherwise I might not be allowed to help with future events and that would make me sad. You don’t want me sad.

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Fringe Food Festival Event – Beer & Cheese 17 April 2012

Next to loaves and fishes, beer and cheese are two of the great staples of life and the similarities between beer and cheese go way, way back. We can actually go as far back as the discovery of preserving food… in this case by transforming surplus grain into beer and very fragile milk into the longer-lasting form of cheese.

A second and pretty important similarity is the key process to their respective creation, which of course is through fermentation.

For the uninitiated, to brew beer, simple sugars from grain are converted by yeast into alcohol and carbon dioxide. In cheese, it’s the conversion of milk by a bacterial culture that makes it acidic, turning the milk sugar lactose into lactic acid, blah, blah, blah and so on.

However, the similarities do not end there. The most important similarity is the not the process, but arguably the art of their creation; how grains or milk are chosen and handled, plus the selection and addition of other flavours and of course, their conditioning to create something that from it’s initial and humble origins can become the most wondrous culinary experience.

So it begs the question; with so many similarities, why do we not pair cheese with beer more often?

As someone that probably drinks far too much beer and has a tendency to over indulge when a cheeseboard is placed on the table, I’d like to know a little more beyond unwrapping a Kraft Single to compliment my Carlton Draught.

With the great support and effort of the Fringe Food Festival, we’ve gathered some of Melbourne’s (and possibly, Australia’s) top aficionados and experts on beer, cheese and food matching, who will guide you through the whys and wherefores of matching, as well as take some time to appreciate the care, effort and passion that has gone into the products that we will be sampling on the night.

As a blogger, I am passionate about Melbourne and Victoria’s food culture, particularly at a grass roots level and I am a great supporter of the events that the Fringe Food Festival organise.

I am honoured to be involved in helping to organise this event that will again showcase some of our best local produce and its providores. And I can guarantee that there will be no Kraft Singles involved.

Advance tickets for April 17 are available here and stay tuned either via farfromfamished or via the most excellent Fringe Food Festival website for more details in the lead up to the event.

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When Life Gives You Lemons…

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that my eldest daughter (a soon-to-be 5 year old) has a particular fondness for strong flavours. Dill pickles are one of her favourite foods and she opts for a very mature cheddar over a Kraft Single any day of the week.

Then there’s her love of lemons. This is a kid that will flat out refuse to drink soft drink (which, as a parent is awesome) because she hates the sensation of the bubbles, yet she’ll gladly consume something… anything that contains the sharpness of lemon. Bitter, salty, sour… strange, but hey, all kids are.

We live in an established suburb where neighbours’ yards yield an abundance of various fruits… primarily figs and of course, a profusion of lemon trees. I do have a lemon tree of my own, but it’s stubborn and unfortunately the neighbour’s trees are not yet ready for undertaking covert night operations to satiate my daughter’s tastebuds. So for now we are compelled to fork out 75 cents per lemon at Coles (hey, at least she doesn’t have an obsession with limes), which is what we had to do on the weekend because I promised I’d whip up a batch of lemon curd to make some lemon curd ice cream.

Lemon curd is a bit old school. These days, you’re likely to find it as part of a lemon meringue pie, but back in the late 19th and early 20th century in ye olde England, home-made lemon curd (or lemon butter, as it is also known) was traditionally served with bread or scones at afternoon tea as an alternative to jam, and as a filling for cakes, small pastries and tarts. Of course, the ingredients in curd (namely the eggs and butter, if used) meant that shelf life was limited, so it wasn’t ideal or indeed all that economical to make curd in the same volumes that jams were made. Obviously in more modern times, with ample refrigeration (and freezers), you can make a shitload if you have the time and inclination.

As for taking lemon curd and making it into ice cream, this has got to be the easiest of ice cream recipes. More so if you cheat and buy and / or use curd made by someone else, only it won’t taste anywhere near as good as if you’d made it… that is unless you curdle it, which means it could taste a bit eggy any awful. In any case, if you’re careful, it will be fine. Honest.

Firstly, to the curd. I used a recipe I found on the SBS website. I don’t know why. I think because it had a higher ratio of lemon to the other ingredients and I wanted a lemon curd with some zip. There was also some booze listed in the ingredients, which I forgot about. However this unintentional hindsight might have been a good thing, given I was actually making this for my daughter. The SBS recipe called for 40ml of Cointreau, but I reckon you could substitute this for Limoncello for extra lemony goodness. For the sake of detailing the quantities, here they are:

Lemon Curd

100g butter
350g sugar
2 tsp lemon zest
7 lemons, juiced
4 fresh eggs
40ml Cointreau

I made a number of changes, to both the ingredients and also the method. Firstly, the SBS recipe said “Melt the butter in a bain marie along with the sugar, lemon zest and lemon juice, then beat the eggs and add them gradually to the mixture.”

Other recipes I had read instructed that I should cream the eggs and sugar first, then heat that mixture until it becomes rich and voluminous (a bit like making a zabaglione), then add the butter, lemon juice and zest. Maybe it doesn’t matter, but I did the latter and kept whisking for around the recommended 20 minutes. At around the 15 minute mark, I went into a bit of a panic because the mixture was still quite watery and didn’t resemble a rich, thick and glossy curd.

Why was it all going wrong? Taking it off the heat a couple of times probably didn’t help. But my daughter was doing her best to assist me – namely by using the kitchen scales to weigh things, like her fist, then her head and subsequently the sugar container which of course fell onto its side and went everywhere. So I had a hot bowl of sweet, eggy lemon water and it made me think; the specified quantity of seven lemons was a little ambiguous. Are my seven lemons bigger or smaller than the SBS lemons? Were my lemons yielding lots of juice or not as much? For the record, my seven lemons equated to exactly 250 mls of juice when I added the zest of two lemons to the measuring jug.

Anyway, as a precaution, I added a little cornflour mixed with some water as a stabiliser and to assist with the thickening. In the end it probably wasn’t necessary, because only a few minutes after recommended 20 minutes, my mixture began to thicken and resemble a smooth, shiny curd. So before it got too hot and curdled or too thick (as it would continue to thicken as it cooled), I took it off the heat and transferred it to a jug.

My 250 mls of lemon juice, 4 eggs, 350 grams of sugar and 150 grams of butter (I added an extra 50 grams for no reason) made exactly 1 litre of lemon curd.

Converting the lemon curd into ice cream isn’t exactly a recipe as much as it’s an extra step. When the lemon curd was chilled to fridge temperature, I took half of the curd and stored it in the freezer for later (which will probably be turned into more ice cream when the first batch is polished off). To the other half of lemon curd, I (or more accurately, my daughter) whisked in 600 ml of thickened cream until the curd and cream were incorporated. This mixture was placed back in the fridge to get as cold as possible before churning in my trusty Kitchen Aid Ice Cream Maker attachment.

And that was it. I guess if you wanted to, you could play around with the sweetness or substitute some or all of the cream with a thick, Greek-style yoghurt to cut back on the fat content. Or add some booze.

So, give it a go – for starters it’s cheap… eggs, butter and sugar are staples in most households and of course, if you owned your own cow, you’d practically be making this for free. Or at the very least, it will set you back a couple of bucks for some shop-bought cream. As long as you’re not paying 75 cents for lemons at Coles. Perhaps next time, I’ll wait until the neighbours’ fruit ripens. In the meantime, I wonder what I’ll do with their figs…

[Footnote: I took pics for this blog, but thanks to a work-related IT thing, my pics were inadvertantly deleted from my phone]

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Malt – 28 Market St, Brisbane

Wow. It’s been a while. It’s not like I haven’t been out / trying to save for a house / been to some places that aren’t worth blogging about / been to some places that I’ve already blogged about / too busy with my paying job to find time to blog / forgotten what I ate anyway.

All of the above is true.

Fortunately, I have recently eaten somewhere notable / remembered what I had / found some spare time to share my experience. The only problem is that it’s in Brisbane, not Melbourne.

Brisbane’s food scene is fair, but it’s expensive – this is not Sydney. Alarmingly, it’s the starters that attract prices that push through the $30 barrier, even in many Bistros… Ouch!

Speaking of Bistros, there is a lack of decent mid-priced places that serve reasonable food at moderate prices – this is also an opinion that is shared by friends that live in Brisbane. If cafés, SSS BBQ Barns and Pubs or Steakhouses aren’t your scene and iconic well-knowns like E’cco or the siblings of the more expensive southern state establishements, like Aria or Stokehouse are out of your league, then you really need to roll up your sleeves and do some research to find something that gives you some value.

Fortunately, Malt fits the bill nicely.

Malt is housed within an iconic inner-city building called Wenley House, which was built in 1865 as Queensland’s first public market. Inside, the integrity of respectfully maintaining the building’s past has been achieved by retaining the exposed brick, original timber flooring and double-hung windows. This is combined with modern fittings and fixtures throughout; in either the 20-seat private dining room located in the cellar, the ground floor bar for a causal pre-dinner or post-work beverage or in the attic, where the main restaurant is located. It’s comfortable.

Firstly, to the bar. A good number of sparkling, whites and reds by the glass are offered, as well as an array of cocktails and spirits. The range of bottled beers and ciders are plentiful and there are also a couple of beers on tap (Peroni, Blue Tongue Lager) and a cider. If you can’t find something here to whet your whistle, then you’re just too damn picky.

One floor up, the attic dining room is extremely spacious, with a generous amount of space between tables, in addition to a full-sized grand piano (sans-Pianist on the night we were there. which to me was a bonus). Your more entrepreneurial restaurateur could argue that is a profitable space being wasted. But the space already accommodates up to 90 diners (without at all detracting from the intimate atmosphere) and it’s quite welcoming to not have to play a game of elbows with your table neighbour.

Freshly baked sourdough, with some balsamic and olive oil arrived promptly. Even better, it was complimentary.

Going back to my initial gripe on inflated entrée costs, the entrées at Malt are at a far more respectable $18-$22 price point and the menu itself is an excellent example of a seasonal summer fare and flavours, with dishes such as a Salad of Mooloolaba Spanner Crab with ruby grapefruit, witlof, cucumber and salmon pearls ($22) or crispy ricotta-filled zucchini flowers with rustic bread, heirloom tomatoes and local olives ($20). My choice; the ham hock terrine with shaved foie gras ($18) was light, not overly rich and packed with flavour. The toasted sourdough and condiments of sauce gribiche, poached quail’s egg and a micro herb and fennel salad were spot on as far as accompaniments go.

Coffin Bay oysters, served two ways were also on the menu, served natural ($18/$34) or Malt’s version of Kilpatrick ($22/$40), where the oyster is deep-fried in a beignet batter and served with Malt’s house-made Kilpatrick sauce, a.k.a Malt Sauce. Initially, I saw this as an absolute indictment to fresh oysters, let alone those from the South Australian waters of Coffin Bay. However, one of my dining partners ‘just happened’ to order them and I ‘just happened’ to try one and I am very happy to declare that Malt are onto a winner. The thin, crispy exterior gave way to another thin, but softer dough texture underneath, followed by an oyster that has lost almost none of its freshness. The Malt Sauce was lip-smackingly delicious; shards of crisp bacon sat within a well balanced tangy and slightly smoky sauce, which was thoughtfully served on the side too, so it doesn’t make the beignet batter soggy. Apparently, they also use this sauce on their steak sandwiches, which form part of Malt’s bar menu. I know where I’m heading for lunch next time I’m in town.

The mains were a true case of diner’s envy (for me, anyway). The sous-vide Grimaud duck breast was served with a fresh, glazed black fig, brown onion and a white bean and confit duck salad ($38). This was exhibit ‘A’ in food envy evidence.

Exhibit ‘B’ was the Bangalow pork tenderloin and jowl with carrot puree, coffee dust, pine nuts and onion rings ($36). It also came with some contrasting pickled baby vegetables to counteract the richness of the jowl and jus. It was cruel and unfair that I was tempted into trying this dish. The coffee was an interesting addition, providing some bitterness up front, which worked well with the sweetness of the sauce and the pork tenderloin. The jowl was fatty, unctuous and just… fuck it was good.

My dish, the Bouillabaisse of Morton Bay Bugs, local prawns, scallops and squid ($39) was aromatic, with the slight aniseed flavour from the Pernod and the presence of saffron was detectable, but not overpowering. The seafood was fresher than fresh. However, some of the stars of the dish were quite underdone. The scallops looked as though they were relying on the residual heat from the broth to cook through, which didn’t happen and one was practically raw. Nor did the bug meat come as cleanly out of the shell as it should have. The remaining seafood was cooked well.

The sides on offer ($8/$9) were a good mix of five or six dishes, containing some of the usual suspects (creamed potato, fries with aioli) and some more adventurous numbers (snow peas, beans and garlic shoots with butter and preserved lemon). To be perfectly honest (and also earlier confirmed by one of the wait staff), the portion sizes of the dishes are quite generous, including the garnishes and accompaniments, so they’re probably not needed. Another example of where Malt sets itself apart from its peers in terms of value.

Desserts (all $15) were again at the same high level of quality in flavour and execution as the preceding courses. The fine apple tart with brandy snap and cinnamon ice cream lived up to it’s name and it’s owner, who didn’t look as through she could get close to finishing it (it was a generous portion), daintily ploughed through the whole thing.

The chocolate brownie with salted caramel, peanut brittle and Malt (a little unsure as to whether it was malt in flavour or Malt in brand, like the sauce) ice cream was my kind of dessert and it was reported as delicious and duly polished off. I don’t know where these girls put it to be quite honest. Alas, I just shared some cheese with a couple of others.

As for the cheeses (my make or break dish of any restaurant) , there were four to choose from; three Australian, one imported. We selected the Brie and the Washed Rind, as well as a French Roquefort, which were served with house made lavosh, oat cookies, toasted fruit loaf, quince paste and fresh pear. At $30 for 45 grams per cheese and from a cheese to biscuit ratio (the last morsel of cheese was scraped up with the very last biscuit), the three of us that shared this all seemed very satisfied.

To drink, we selected the 2010 Ocean Eight Pinot Gris from the Mornington Peninsula ($64) and the 2008 Tscharke ‘The Curse’ Zinfandel from the Barossa ($74). Both excellent value, with fairly moderate mark-ups.

Service was extremely attentive and the two young ladies that looked after us for the night were very knowledgeable on both the menu and the components of the dishes, as well as the wine list.

Brisbane needs more places like this. A comfortable environment, a menu that will cater to most, well executed dishes, dedicated staff and of course, good value for money. It’s good to be back.

Malt
28 Market St, Brisbane
(07) 3236 4855
www.maltdining.com.au

Good For: Meeting a much needed gap in the Brisbane market

Not Good For: Other restaurants in Brisbane, that declare they are a Bistro, but charge at least 25%-30-% more than Malt

Malt on Urbanspoon

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Robert Burns Hotel – 376 Smith St, Collingwood

To me, the Robert Burns Hotel was just another one of those pubs on Smith Street that you went past all of the time, never thinking twice of going in there. For one, it’s in the heart of ‘secondsville’… one of the numerous inner-city pockets of Melbourne that consists of wall-to-wall outlet stores (sporting attire is the attraction in this neck of the woods, if you didn’t know).

Subsequently, teems of buses filled with outer-suburbs bogans and weekender provincial folk meander from store to store with a glazed look on their face until they find their bargain of the day – 30% off a three-pack of tube socks that they didn’t really need.

I would have gladly continued to ignore this part of Smith Street (unless I needed discounted tube socks). However good friends of ours whom, up until a few months ago were Collingwood residents, had the low-down on some of the better places in the neighbourhood. As we were well overdue for a catch up, they selected the Robert Burns Hotel as our lunch venue.

Inside, the Robert Burns Hotel is a strange mix of two vastly different countries; a Spanish restaurant inside a pub that bears the name of Scotland’s most favourite son and poet. This is further emphasised by the garish tartan carpet, that in places continues up the wall like it’s trying to escape. It’s cosy and comfortable. As my friends tell me, the venue has recently had a bit of a make over.

As some of us had young children in tow, we were of course unfashionably early (by only a few minutes) and the doors were only being unlocked as we arrived. Our Spanish-accented waiter escorted us to our table and was quick to dispense some water… a great start? Alas, no. The service was awfully slow and haphazard, and that’s an understatement.

To further complicate things (which wasn’t really all that complicated), friends had to leave by 2pm as they had a flight to catch, so they asked if they could order immediately even though we were waiting on a couple of other guests. So, our friend’s drinks orders were taken and duly received, whereas the rest of us were left wondering. Then again, our friend’s food orders were taken and although we were also ready to order, we were again left wondering. There wasn’t even the opportunity to grab the waiter’s attention because as soon as he had taken our friend’s order, he was off again in the blink of an eye without even bothering to see if anyone else at the table was perhaps a little bit thirsty or hungry. We eventually took control of our thirst and decided to order our drinks from the bar.

And it wasn’t as though our initial waiter was the only staff member on the floor. There were others – all easily identifiable as they all wore the same short-sleeved checked shirts, rushing around doing… actually I don’t know what they were doing, other than not waiting on our table. It was hardly busy at ten minutes past midday on a Sunday and there was only one other couple that had taken a table. Although to the staff’s credit, they were at least quite friendly and attentive… when they were present.

As for food, there’s a separate front bar menu that lists a selection of tapas (all $6.50) served in the traditional cazuelita; the terracotta dish synonymous with Spanish morsels. Although I didn’t get to try some of these dishes on offer: Costillas De Cerdo (Pork ribs in a tangy sauce), Albóndigas con sepia (Beef meat balls with cuttlefish and green peas) or Chorizos a la sidra (Slow cooked chorizo in cider with green apples), I would like to come back to sample a couple of dishes over a glass or two of Tempranillo or Fino Sherry… Muy bien! Mi español es muy malo!

The more extensive restaurant menu generously caters for your serious carnivores and although there are a number of dishes for your token vegetarian (there’s always one), I thought there would have been more vegetable dishes on offer. Yes, the main meat dishes are accompanied by a handful of rocket and shallot salad, but this is more of a garnish than a salad and the only other green vegetable on offer as a choice of three side dishes were some char-grilled asparagus spears. The other two dishes were a choice of hand cut fries or chips in another form; roasted chat potatoes – all reasonably priced for a fiver.

Once our orders were finally taken, we tried the Croquetas del mar (mussel and prawn croquettes) – $9.90, an array of the various grilled meats on offer, which at $50 for two people highlighted that the Robert Burns, with all its service foibles, is actually quite reasonably priced.

Our one year old had already eaten her way through a paper napkin and a slice of baguette we’d successfully foraged from the bread board near the kitchen pass (we’d asked for a couple of slices to suppress our daughter’s hunger and keep her occupied, but – no surprises here – they came out around 10 minutes after our food had arrived). In any case, everything came out at once, which was a bit of a pain trying to find enough room on the table accommodate everything we’d all ordered.

The croquettes were moorish; five crunchy cylinders were filled with chunky pieces of prawn and mussel, lightly bound with a smooth, rich roux mixture. The accompanying garlic aioli was nice enough, but it was a bit rich-on-rich, if you know what I mean. I would have preferred a contrasting condiment spiked with something to cut through the richness. My daughter, not content with just paper and bread, knocked off two of them effortlessly. She is, to date, a pleasure to take out for a meal, unlike our four year old, who refused to go because there was no playground attached.

The meat selection consisted of a couple of lamb cutlets, the two forelegs of a cute bunny rabbit, some slices of white sausage (and sadly not the Morcilla blood sausage which was available on the menu in other dishes) and some sliced sirloin. We asked if we could have a sample of each of the sauces on offer; aioli, mojo rojo and chimichurri, which was do-able but not without the waiter telling us he should be able to accommodate this request without the kitchen wanting to kill him (?). I think he was trying to be humorous.

The meats were pretty much grilled to perfection and all well seasoned. The lamb was bang on, still retaining a pink hue on the inside. The rabbit was well coloured on the outside and moist on the inside. The sausage was OK, if not a bit too salty. The sirloin was a little on the tough side, with most of the slices just bordering on medium heading towards medium well; a little over for my liking. The accompanying sauces brought the meats to life with the piquant mojo rojo being declared the winner over the second placed chimichurri. Along with a couple of the aforementioned sides (asparagus and hand cut fries), this was more than enough for two (and a half) people.

Our other friends were more than happy with their choices. The eye fillet ($22) and four-point lamb rack ($27) were cooked accurately to order and was again a fair dose of protein for the price. There are five paella dishes to choose from that vary from $20 to $24 per person (min. 2 people). I would have gladly ordered the Paella negra con aioli (squid ink, with cuttlefish and scallops served with aioli) if there was a like-minded dining partner, but there wasn’t. Although I did get to sample some Paella de marisco (seafood: prawns, calamari, mussels and clams) which was spot on.

This is a pub, so there are plenty of beers on tap – in bottles, pots or pints and although the wine list is fairly extensive (and exclusively Spanish), it’s quite restrictive in its offerings of wines by the glass and is quite pricey.

Desserts are the usual Spanish suspects, including the ubiquitous churros with chocolate sauce ($9.90), a selection of Spanish cheeses that most probably include Manchego and quince paste ($13.90) and a crème caramel ($9.90). Unfortunately we were far too full of meat to consider something sweet… and I’d left the nappies in the car, so it was probably as good a time as any to leave our share of the bill on the table and go and change the baby, via the Nike outlet store for some much-needed tube socks.

So, in weighing everything up about the Robert Burns Hotel, if you are more than prepared to put up with some extremely chaotic service (which upon reading other reviews you can pretty much guarantee), you can look forward to some quite reasonable, affordable and simplistic, yet tasty Spanish fare in a fun and relaxing setting.

Hasta luego!

Robert Burns Hotel
376 Smith St, Collingwood
(03) 9417 2233
www.robertburnshotel.com.au

Good For: Reasonable and basic Spanish fare without the flare (and associated cost) of MoVida, Añada, etc.

Not Good For: Knowing that Manuel (Fawlty Towers) has grand children that also ended up in the service industry… albeit in in Melbourne

Robert Burns Hotel on Urbanspoon