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ANZAC Biscuits, my way…

It’s a day late, but better late than never.

Most people are familiar with the background of the ANZAC biscuit; it probably formed part of what we learned in school, but for the sake of padding out this post, it’s claimed that the biscuits were sent by wives to soldiers abroad because the simple ingredients (rolled oats, flour, desiccated coconut, sugar, butter, golden syrup, baking soda and water) did not spoil easily. The omission of eggs was also thought to be because of the scarcity of eggs during the First World War, after most poultry farmers had joined the war effort. Then there is also the typical Trans-Tasman rivalry and conjecture around whether it was the Kiwis or the Aussies that invented the biscuit first, like the pavlova, lamington or claiming Neil and Tim Finn as our own. Alas, still no one is willing to claim Russell Crowe (don’t tell me you didn’t see that coming).

Personally, I am not a massive fan of the ANZAC biscuit. Whilst we grew up on Nan’s homemade ones, like most Australian and New Zealand kids would have, I find them too sweet. However, like Nan’s, they have to be crunchy. The soft ones just don’t seem right. But, each to their own. We are lucky we have the freedom of choice, as trivial as it is to muse over a biscuit preference. I think that falls into the category of first world problems.

Yesterday morning’s last minute decision to make ANZAC biscuits was my 6 year old’s idea. She enjoys the helping part, but I knew that she wouldn’t be a fan of the end result… mainly because it’s not a mass-produced Tiny Teddy or a packet of the recently-discovered Uglies. I had all of the ingredients on hand with the exception of rolled oats, so a quick run up to the local Foodworks ensured we could knock up a batch to take to the park later on.

At this point, the traditional recipe started to take a turn. I ended up having to settle for quick oats (the smaller cut version of whole rolled oats) because that’s all they had, which in hindsight is what I will continue to use in the future. But more on that later. As I mentioned earlier, the sweetness is what puts me off ANZAC biscuits, so I began to think about what I could do to offset the sweetness… Maybe in a number of ways. Then slowly, I began to feel a tiny pang of guilt. I was messing with such a sacrosanct recipe! It usually pisses me off when people mess around with things that shouldn’t be messed with. Now I was one of those people. However, I was prepared to overlook it when I finally tried the end result.

Firstly, I decided to back off on the sugar in the recipe, using about ¾ of a cup as opposed to a full cup. Whilst this was a bit of a risk in achieving my preferred crunchy version, I did it anyway. A higher sugar content relative to the amount of golden syrup results in a crisper biscuit, whereas a greater percentage of golden syrup gives you a softer and chewier result. I kept the golden syrup to the one tablespoon, as listed in the recipe.

The second change was the  spontaneous addition of something controversial, mainly because I saw them in Foodworks, and hardly Antipodean – Hershey Reece’s Pieces. I guess you could dedicate it to our alliance with the US. Whilst they’re still relatively sweet, I decided that they might add some of that slightly salty, peanut buttery richness in bursts.

Thirdly, hot out of the oven, I gave each biscuit a tiny pinch of Murray Pink Salt to give that slight contrast to the sweetness and finally, a drizzle of bitter, 85% dark chocolate.

The rest of the ingredients were (practically) straight up and taken from Margaret Fulton’s ANZAC Biscuit recipe… that is with the exception of the oats. Using the smaller cut, quick oats resulted in a denser biscuit. Oh, and I used dried coconut instead of desiccated. And biscuit flour instead of plain flour… Actually, in hindsight, my version a little removed from the recipe developed by our ancestors to keep our troops fuelled and motivated. But they were delicious.

ANZAC Biscuits, my way

ANZAC Biscuits, my way…

125g unsalted butter
1 tbsp golden syrup
2 tbsp boiling water
1 ½ tsp baking soda
1 cup quick oats (smaller cut ‘quick’ oats)
¾ cup dried coconut (not desiccated)
1 cup flour (I used biscuit flour, with a lower protein content)
¾ cup brown sugar
2 x 43g packets Reese’s Pieces
Murray Pink Salt
150g 85% good quality dark chocolate (I used Lindt)

Preheat oven to 150 degrees Celsius.

Melt butter, golden syrup and sugar over a low heat in a small heavy based pan until melted. Add the baking soda to the boiling water, then mix into the melted syrup mixture. When well combined and frothy, pour the mixture into the combined oats, flour and coconut dry ingredients and mix well. When the mixture has cooled a little, gently mix in the Reese’s Pieces until they are well distributed throughout the mixture.

Roll mixture into small (2cm) balls onto greased baking trays, leaving room for spreading. I found that using the smaller cut oats resulted in not as much spreading as you’d typically expect from an ANZAC biscuit.

Bake for 18-20 minutes. If you want to achieve a crispier biscuit, drop the temperature a little and extend the cooking time.

Upon removing the hot biscuits from the oven, flatten slightly and sprinkle each with a tiny amount of Murray Pink Salt. Cool on the tray for a few minutes, then remove onto wire racks.

When completely cooled, drizzle with dark chocolate and leave to set.

I’m not much of a baker, but I was extremely proud the end result. Overall, it was crispy on the outside softer on the inside and to be perfectly honest they were awesome – even if they weren’t technically a true ANZAC Biscuit.

Lest we forget.

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Feelings & Memories

Food and feelings go together like… vegemite and cheese. How could you not cheer on your team at the footy without a lukewarm pie and sauce? How could you not mend a broken heart without ice cream? You get the picture. It conjures up memories, good and bad and it can effectively use all of your senses (unless you also see dead people) or at the very least, enhance them. It makes you remember.

As a lover of food, some of my happier moments in life have been closely related to it; a meal out with people that are special to me or cooking for them. Or even better, cooking with them.

It took some years to get better at cooking with people. I was told that I was too bossy in the kitchen… too much of a perfectionist, which I guess is a toughie when you lack the desired skill. And if things went a little pear-shaped, I cracked the shits. I’ve improved immensely over the years. I don’t know why… Maybe my knowledge and technique have improved with practise. Maybe it’s because I’m a little older and I’ve learned not to sweat the little things. I think I’ve said before that pastry and me are slowly learning to get along.

Whilst there are fond memories of great meals with friends, things I’ve eaten by myself in amazing places in the world or meals I’ve made for others that I believe I truly nailed, I have two very vivid memories of cooking with people dear to me.

One dates back to around thirteen years ago when I was living my carefree, backpacker life. I was staying in a town called Jelsa, on the island of Hvar in Croatia. My travelling partner and I scored this ridiculously cheap apartment and we ended up staying there for two weeks. I celebrated my 25th birthday there.

Most days we’d head to the markets. We’d buy whatever fish they’d have on offer… usually a small snapper, and we’d stuff it with ham, mushrooms (one day we endured a 16km round trip walk to another town because the market at Jelsa had no mushrooms) and leeks and make a flavoured butter out of some paprika-based seasoning we’d found that was a little bit sweet, salty, spicy and tangy. We’d bake it and serve it with what we christened ‘Jelsa Salad’, which was pretty much roughly chopped up red onion, red capsicum, carrot and cucumber, tossed in lemon juice. None of it was fancy or even regional for that matter, but every now and again, if I want to take myself back to those days, I’ll make Jelsa Salad and I am there.

Whilst my other standout food memory didn’t involve an exotic setting, it’s arguably to date, my best food memory. Why? Put simply, it epitomises why I love to cook; the challenge, the fun, being able to share and of course the end result. All combined it evokes happiness and isn’t that something everyone wants to be able to remember?

Over the years, I have attempted to cook Thai cuisine; it’s never really been something  that I’ve put my love and soul into in order to deliver something that is better than OK. It’s probably also a little out of my comfort zone. However, a friend of mine who had spent a number of years living in Thailand changed that. Having someone that knew Thai food beyond the probable farang holiday-maker stuff most travellers would sample helped a lot.

Raw protein polarises people. Most will try fish in the form of sashimi or beef as carpaccio or tartare. I love stuff raw, but I’d never tried raw prawns; accidentally or as a dish.

Gung Chae Nam Pla is something I have not seen in Australian Thai restaurants, quite possibly because it might not be popular. If you have a sense of adventure and can get beyond eating a raw prawn, then give it a go. It’s amazing. One of the most extraordinary, yet simplest dishes I’ve ever made or tasted, consisting of essentially fresh (the fresher, the better) raw green prawns that have been butterflied and just prior to being served, anointed with a paste that features the usual Thai suspects and some fresh mint.

Raw Prawns with Thai Chillies (Gung Chae Nam Pla)

10-12 medium sized, raw fresh green prawns with the tail shell on
6 chillies
coriander leaves
4 garlic cloves
1 shallot
2 tbsp fish sauce
2 tbsp lemon juice
Fresh mint leaves

Now the method was no brain surgery; processing the chillies, garlic, shallot, coriander, fish sauce and lemon juice into a rough paste, then artfully added it to the prawns (tails up!). Grab a couple of mint leaves to top each prawn and eat the prawn in one go, picking it up by the tail shell. We paired it with a few glasses of Mumm, which you probably wouldn’t do in Thailand, but it worked.

Gung Chae Nam Pla

One of the quintessential Thai recipes is Green Curry. Made from scratch, it’s a true labour of love and the one we made was pretty close to perfection. David Thompson may disagree.

The recipe we used was a bit of a jumble from a number of recipes, plus a bit of our own doctoring along the way. What I’ve listed below will get you pretty close.

Green Chicken Curry (Gaeng Kiew Wan Gai)

Curry paste, made from:
1 tbsp coriander seeds
2 tsp cumin seeds
10 white peppercorns
1 tbsp galangal, finely chopped
1 tbsp ginger, finely chopped
4 or 5 fresh green chillies
12-15 small green chillies
4 -5 shallots, chopped
5-6 garlic cloves, chopped
1 tbsp lemongrass, finely chopped
Coriander stems and roots from a bunch of coriander
4-5 kaffir lime leaves, chopped
Shrimp paste, to taste (start at 1 tsp and go from there)
1 tsp salt
Zest of one or two limes

The rest…

oil
3 chicken thighs, bone in
6 Thai eggplants
10-12 Green beans
1 can of coconut cream
Fish sauce, to taste (start at 1 tbsp)
Palm sugar, to taste (start at 1 tbsp)
Lime juice, to taste (start at 1 lime)

Whilst it would be very much authentic to use a mortar and pestle to make your paste, the one we had was a bit small. So we cheated and used one of those small food processors, like you might get as an attachment to a bamix.

First, we toasted the coriander and cumin in a dry pan until fragrant, then ground the toasted spices in the mortar and pestle (at least it got used for something) with the white pepper corns. The ground spices were added to the rest of the paste ingredients (we forgot the ginger) in the processor and blitzed until they resembled a fine paste. Try not to add water to advance the process; it only dilutes your paste.

Some of the ingredients were amped up a bit, to taste. We added more shrimp paste (maybe another half a tablespoon… maybe more). As for the chillies, the long green ones didn’t provide the heat, as much as they added to the colour (although our paste was quite a brown colour, then end result looked like the proper green curry colour). The chillies we used for heat were purchased at the Footscray markets. I will have to go there again and find out what they were; they were tiny, no more than 2cm in length, quite thin, a bit nobbly and pale green in colour. They packed a good heat that built up on you.

After we were happy with the paste, we fried of at least half a cup over a slow heat in a heavy based casserole dish. Once the paste was fragrant, we added the chopped chicken thighs, to cook in the paste for a few minutes, then the halved eggplants, more kaffir lime leaves, fish sauce, palm sugar and a can of coconut cream. Then we left it for about 20 minutes, continuing on a very slow heat.

About 10 minutes before serving, we checked the flavours, added a little more sugar and some lime juice. The sauce, in my opinion, had reduced a little bit too much, but there was a little bit of coconut cream left in the tin, which I added and it seemed to correct this. We added the beans and popped the lid on the let the residual heat cook the beans, but leave some crunch.

Served with the some rice, this was the end result:

Gaeng Kiew Wan Gai

Whilst factors beyond just the cooking attributed to this being my best food memory (like the company, lots of wine, the fun and so on), I have never been so pleased with the end results of the dishes we created. Sharing the toils and fruits of your labour can conjure up some great memories. Just worry about the dirty dishes later.

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Little Hunter – 195 Little Collins St, Melbourne

A friend of mine was recently diagnosed with diabetes. He’s 40. In fact, his birthday last year was the first of an imminent wave of 40th birthday celebrations that will transpire over the course of the next few years. It’s a pretty significant milestone; although 50 is apparently the new 40, so perhaps I won’t notice it too much in a few years time when it’s my turn. Regardless, these kinds of ailments remind that we’re not getting any younger. Our metabolism becomes slower. We need to have more regular check ups with our GP. We need to make sure we’re getting an adequate amount of exercise and we need to heed the caution of avoiding artery-clogging, saturated animal fats.

If you wholly agree with the above as the strict rules for a happy, healthy life that may well exceed the paltry amount of superannuation you’ve accumulated, then please do not read on. Or for that matter, dine at Little Hunter.

You see, Little Hunter is not for the feint-hearted. Literally. Most steaks typically come with a condiment. Little Hunter’s Robbin’s Island Ribeye ($60) comes with an unfeasibly large baton of roasted bone marrow and just when you thought that was going to push your cholesterol into double digits, beef fat butter. I’m not kidding. It may or may not be the first time I have uttered “thank fuck we ordered some vegetables” and it’s also ironic that Pete “Activated Almonds” Evans is a co-owner. They would definitely not feature on this menu… unless they were crumbed, deep fried and served with a lard jus.

Anyway, more on the food later. Little Hunter is set in the basement of the George’s building in Little Collins St. It’s a kind of ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ façade, with only a small plaque that acknowledges you’re in the right place. Walking down the industrial staircase, you head into a polished, comfortably lit warehouse-chic space that consists of a myriad of booths, tables and walls adorned with pictures of the likely ancestors of the bovines that you’ll be tucking into later on.

The menu is, to a great relief, very straight forward and easy to navigate. No confusion about shared plates that may or may not be entrees. Or mains. There are small dishes, sides, large dishes, steaks and sweets.

OK. Let’s get what is possibly is already the legend of this place; the bread and it’s evil partner in crime. The bread itself is delicious – a cheesey pull-apart style loaf that is so good, you will order another. But the real hero and star of the show is the chicken fat butter. Yes, you heard me correctly; the blend of 50% butter and 50% rendered chicken fat, flecked with chicken skin crackling is never ever going to get a Heart Foundation tick of approval, but we gave it five big ticks.

Cheesey Bread & Chicken Fat Butter

A number of my fellow diners were a little saddened to discover that one of the small dishes that featured on the website; Pork Cracklings – paprika, white cheddar, apple sauce ($6) were not on the menu. The alternative of corn fritters did not disappoint. Small balls of deep-fried corn were reminiscent of “pogos” according to a Canadian friend of mine. Apparently, they’re like corn dogs.

The stand-out dish of the night, winning by a bee’s whisker was “Beef on Toast” ($15). Atop a wafer-thin crisp of bread sat very thinly sliced, quality raw beef fillet, a creamy, rich chicken liver parfait and as a counterpoint, a chivey-capery concoction that brought the whole dish together. It was outstanding.

Beef on Toast

The Country Pate with pickled walnuts, guanciale (pig’s jowl) and pea shoots ($14) in comparison was like a poorer cousin. There was definitely nothing wrong with it, but amongst the bread, the butter, the corn fritters and the beef on toast – it was quite possibly one dish too many. Although using some of the witlof on the dish as a vehicle for consuming more chicken fat butter was great and yet writing about it today, it just sounds so wrong.

Country Pate - pickled walnuts, guanciale, pea shoots

I’ve already talked about the Robbin’s Island Ribeye. It was the best steak I have had in a long time. Mind you at $60 for a 280 gram steak, the expectation was high. The steak was cooked to the kitchen’s recommended doneness (medium rare) and as previously mentioned, came with a generously-sized piece of bone marrow that could have acted as a weapon and an extremely rich butter made with beef fat that anointed the tender cut of meat. If I had to be picky, I would have preferred one or the other, but not both condiments as it became a little sickly towards the end. Too much of a good thing.

Robbin's Island Ribeye - bone marrow, beef fat butter

The Cape Grim Filet Mignon ($38), marinated in coffee grounds and Worcestershire sauce, cooked via sous vide and then smoked was unavailable. However this was substituted with a wagyu fillet, cooked in the same manner, for $55. Three rounds (approximately 225 grams in total) were served simply with a big slice of king brown mushroom and an accompanying  sauce (which I don’t know what it was).

Wagyu Fillet - coffee and wood smoke

You will need sides as the dishes are fairly scarce without them. We tried the lettuce with balsamic vinaigrette (it is exactly just that) for $9, Little Hunter’s Fries, dusted with dehydrated onion powder and served with a ‘fry’ cocktail sauce ($6 or approximately $1 per chip to be more accurate), roasted yams with chimmichurri ($7) and some much-needed vegetables (baby carrots, zucchini, shitake mushrooms) with only a little bit of butter added – hey that’s what kitchens do ($9).

Little Hunter Fries

Some of us had thrown in the towel at this point, but others pushed on. Desserts are restrained, quite attractive, full of flavour and hit the right notes after the preceding calorie-laden offerings. The frangipane with meringue, passionfruit curd and peach sorbet ($15) was light, not to mention delicious. As was the licorice ice cream with milk crumbs, bee pollen and candied citrus ($12).

Frangipane - meringue, passionfruit curd, peach sorbet

The well balanced wine list is reasonably priced, lots of choice between local and international wines. You’ll probably pay around $60-$70. We drank the 2011 Tscharke Montepulciano from the Barossa ($67) and moved to a heavier, 2012 The Story ‘Writer’s Block’ Shiraz from the Grampians ($60, also available by the glass for $12). There is also an extensive list of beers and ciders.

Service was extremely attentive. Our server, Sarah, had to put up with the attempted wit of five gregarious dudes. This is a place for gregarious dudes… or lunching men in suits… or carnivorous better halves. Just no vegos.

Oh and please don’t ask as to why there is a duck on the wine glass. You have been warned.

Little Hunter
Basement, 195 Little Collins St, Melbourne VIC
(03) 9654 0090
http://www.littlehunter.com.au/

Good For: Meat. Grrrr.

Not Good For: Vegetarians, people that get excited about 99% fat free products and people whose cholesterol might be already exceeding 5.5

Little Hunter on Urbanspoon

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“Doesn’t like it”

Recently, I spent a bit of down time reading through the countless reviews for Melbourne restaurants on urbanspoon. There are presently 7,666 pages of them. I think I got up to page 46 (only three days worth!) before my eyes gave up and I needed to go for a walk.

When I got back to my computer, I did some rough calculations and discovered that an alarming (approximate) 25% of diners rated their experience as ‘Doesn’t like it’. Granted some reviews consisted of nothing more than “Don’t go, it’s shit”, but then there were others that went to the trouble of writing a review the equivalent of War & Peace, let alone going to the effort to set up an account to review a venue.

That’s 1 in 4 people critiquing poor service and food that does not meet expectation; waiters that are too friendly, not friendly enough, getting stuff out in a reasonable time, missing things, incompetent staff, ‘bitchy vibes’ from staff, forgetting things, too much avocado, salt in bowls on the table being unhygienic, then having to use the said salt because the risotto was bland, mind-blowingly pretentious, meat that you’d give to your dog and so on.

In this day and age, where our biggest rating TV shows are My Kitchen Rules and Masterchef, we obsess over all things food related. Are our expectations becoming too inflated and bordering on unreasonable? Do people simply enjoy being acerbic? Are we too gun-toting and trigger-happy to fire up the urbanspoon app the minute someone looks at us the wrong way, if the beer is flat or the butter’s too cold? Or is it a case of the industry needing to lift its game to meet ever-growing expectation?

Knowledge is power. We’ve dug ourselves a big fat hole in our keen intent to know what came from where and when and what it ate and how it lived and how it died and how it got to the kitchen, let alone how it was cooked.

Ten years ago, ordering a coffee was as simple as… ordering for a coffee. Now? Well after you select the origin of bean, the monkey’s arse it came out of, how it’s been roasted, whether you want siphon, cold drip, espresso, the type of sugar… I just want a good coffee! As for your steak, it can now trace its bloodline back through the 1860’s on ancestory.com. Probably.

We are spending more on food; the groceries we buy and dining out. In September 2012, CommSec released figures that showed average household spending is growing at a long-term average of 4 per cent and in particular, households had lifted their spending on cafes, restaurants and takeaway foods by $8.78 a week, largely driven by people eating and drinking out more often as opposed to increasing prices.

Households are now spending, on average, $107 a week on dining out. That’s on top of the $200 a week average spent on household groceries.

So, we know more and we are spending more money on dining out, which means we’re trying new places all of the time. Naturally, the next step with all of the whizz-bang technology available to us is to tell everyone about it via social media. Annnd duh! I’m writing reviews! But I’d like to think that the effort that goes into my reviews – at least 6-8 hours to produce a 1,000 word post – provides a result that is more balanced, detailed and hopefully influences someone to try somewhere they’ve never been before. Granted not all of the places I’ve been to, after summing up the food, service, value and overall experience, I have liked, but I’m not writing reviews to give people the heads up on where not to go. If that was the case, why would we want to go out at all if 1 in 4 places are shithouse?

The internet is free speech (for now) and sites like urbanspoon have seemed to survive the challenge of one review, mobile reviewers (which I must admit are some the more entertaining reading), such as:

Hate the food and the customer service is so shocking no one there looks happy and the place look really dirty there is no room to eat with out bumping into the people next to us or with out here there life story nd the music is always the same nd never seams to change don’t like it when people have to reach over us to give us the food and to take our plates Im never going back there if things don’t change and the deal things is such a rip off or should I say a joke.

The sibling of a well-known place opened up nearby recently and it was shocking to see the unceremonious panning it copped by its patrons, with comments going as far to describe it had no soul. I heard nothing but James Brown being played in there the other day, but whatever. Another reviewer was most articulate:

The place itself feels cold; too clean, too new…too something

Too ‘something’? Mmmrrright. I can hardly wait for the diner’s review on an overheated, old, rat-infested joint.

Lastly, my all-time favourite was:

Hipster Joint doesn’t belong in Fitzroy North

Well if you want to get all picky, it’s actually in Carlton North. As for hipsters not belonging in Fitzroy North, have you not been to Edinburgh Gardens on a warm Sunday afternoon? I can feel my hair follicles getting quiff envy and Movember ending on 1 December meant nothing in North Fitzroy, let me tell you.

Sorry, I digressed.

I guess we need to accept the facts; we go out more, we spend more, we share more information far more quickly and to more people than we may realise. We are more discerning due to our influences, environment and ability to access knowledge, even through some of us (still) aren’t any smarter as a result.

For the punters using urbanspoon to seek out a place to eat, I’d suggest taking any diner reviews where they have only recently signed up, one-off reviewers and / or mobile reviews with a tiny grain of salt. Use bloggers reviews; they are hopefully doing it for their love and passion of food and of course, there are always the bona-fide professional food critic reviews.

For the rest of us ‘critics’; if your eggs aren’t poached right – tell the cafe. If your steak is well done and you ordered medium rare – tell the restaurant. If your beer is flat – tell the pub. Unfortunate things can and will happen in most places, even the good ones. It’s a numbers game. Any half-decent chef, wait staff, manager or owner will and should do their best to rectify the situation. And if you do feel compelled to write about it, try and be objective, check your spelling, grammar and perhaps do it the next day.

I’m no expert and I have never claimed to be. Although I’d prefer you spend your $107 on something good, new and different. And if it’s a place I can recommend to you, then that’s even better. Although here’s a list of places you should avoid at all costs:

Just kidding.

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Bramble & Vine – 749 Nicholson St, Carlton North

I hold in high regard people that demonstrate an unbridled passion for something. It’s not that I’m not passionate about stuff. But this is passion at another level; turning it up to eleven in a Spinal Tap-esque kind of way. Where a person’s eyes glaze over when they’re talking to you and every word is spoken from the heart and you become so engaged listening to what they have to say and you’re envious because you want to be where they are.

This is Leila Donnan in a nutshell. Co-owner and Maître d of Carlton North’s Bramble & Vine. She’s passionate about her menu; locally sourced ingredients and almost everything made from scratch. She’s passionate about her simple, but sound and ultra inexpensive wine list – all selected by Leila. She’s even passionate about the Tasmanian bottled rain water we drank and the Australian-designed handmade Plumm water and wine glasses we drank from. Her passion and her gregariousness were infectious. It made you want to be there. And the food just made it better.

This place has existed for around 18 months now and I’ve only recently dined there. Very foolish of me as it was excellent and a relatively high 93% of people on urbanspoon tend to agree, but for some reason it’s just not as busy as it should be and I don’t know why. The building that houses Bramble & Vine is the fourth incarnation as I have known it over the last seven or so years. Previously it was home to pizza joint Bande à Part and prior to that it was Caffe Qui and before that a Lebanese restaurant.

Granted, this part of Nicholson St can be a bit hit and miss. Excluding the cafes and the most obvious places leading the way (like the brand spanking new St. Ali North and Pope Joan), you’ve got Bistro Flor a kilometre or so back towards the city, but that’s about it.

As for the food… look, it’s not three hat, or one or two for that matter. But it’s honest, tasty and satisfying bistro cooking by chef (and the other co-owner) Sarah-Jane Mahoney, who is equally as passionate (just not as outward in showing it) and that was reflected in practically every dish that graced our table.

Like the wine list, the menu is simple and has strong leanings towards Mediterranean and Middle Eastern influences. You can choose from three light bites (all $14), four entrees (all $18), four mains (all $33), four sides ($8), four desserts ($14) and (the self-proclaimed) Australia’s best cheese platter with one, two or three cheeses for $19, $24 or $29 respectively – served with lots of lovely house made accompaniments; lavosh, honey truffled walnuts, baked bread, pear mash and a strawberry, fig, pine nut salad. It sounded very promising but I didn’t get that far. Maybe next time.

We decided to share dishes and started with a Sardinian gorgonzola garlic pizza, complete with half a confit garlic bulb. This was a true garlic-lovers delight, with a bit of fun thrown in by having the pleasure of squeezing out perfectly sweet and soft garlic paste onto a thin, crispy pizza base with good hit of creaminess and sharpness from the gorgonzola and the zing of fresh thyme and rosemary.

Sardinian gorgonzola garlic pizza & confit garlic

Next up was a light, whipped beetroot puree, studded with bits of blue goats cheese, hazelnuts, za’atar yoghurt and just enough horseradish; providing a subtle presence that reminds you of how well horseradish and beetroot work together.

Whipped beetroot puree, goats cheese crumble, hazelnuts & za’atar yoghurt and mountain bread

I have my doubts that the mountain bread was housemade. Not that it’s an issue, but there is already housemade pizza, bread and lavosh on offer with other dishes and perhaps an opportunity lost to reinforce Bramble & Vine’s philosophy.

For mains, neither of us could go past the red wine braised pork belly with toasted coriander and ginger relish, chard and parsnip in both creamy (pureed, but more like a skordalia) and crispy crunchy forms.

Red wine braised pork belly

The pork was meltingly tender and its richness was met with sweetness from the puree, some punch from the relish and freshness from the perfectly cooked chard. Put simply, it was a well balanced, well thought out dish in both flavour and texture.

Kipfler potatoes with thyme, rosemary and bush lime aioli

For the sides, we sampled the Kipfler potato ‘chips’ with thyme, rosemary and bush lime aioli and the wilted chard with lemon garlic tahini and pine nuts.

Whilst I’m not a massive fan of the waxy Kipfler, the generous bowl of spuds provided a variety of some crunchy, some sweet, some soft potatoes to the point where we found ourselves vying for the title of finding the ‘best’ chip.

Wilted chard, lemon garlic tahini and crushed pine nuts

We probably could have done without the wilted chard, as there was already chard served in the pork dish. My only criticism was the colour of the tahini, most likely made with black sesame seeds which resulted in a fairly unappealing grey blu-tack coloured blob.

We ended proceedings with an ode to the hot weather we’ve recently endured; a perfectly poached peach, lightly spiced with cinnamon, was filled with a rich marscapone flecked with vanilla, the nutty crunch from crushed bits of almond flavoured meringue – all sitting proudly on a subtle champagne granita. Again, another example of a dish that was well thought out in flavour, texture and this time around, temperature.

Cinnamon poached peaches, champagne granita, vanilla bean mascarpone and meringue

To drink, we polished off a couple of bottles of (slightly chilled) 2011 Calulu Park Pinot Noir ($36) from the Yarra Valley. The rest of the wine list is just as affordable and whilst it’s a relatively straight forward, with 12 wines on offer, BYO is also welcomed.

Bramble & Vine is a great local that would be welcomed in any of Melbourne’s inner-suburban main drags. Quality ingredients are being treated with great love and respect, resulting in some top dishes that are extremely affordable. More importanly, it’s being run by some very passionate people that are doing what they love. If I can, at the very least, try to be as equally passionate for my love of local food and do my part to get a few more locals (or even those not so local) in the door and possibly become regulars, then it’s a win / win for everyone.

Bramble & Vine
749 Nicholson St, Carlton North VIC
(03) 9388 1558
http://bramblevine.com.au/

Good For: Great local people making and serving great local food and wine to great local people, at very affordable prices

Bramble and Vine on Urbanspoon

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St. Ali North – 815 Nicholson St, Carlton North

The great north of the river versus the south of the river debate. Which is better? The generalisations are that the South is pretentious and the North is full of unwashed bohemian hippies, but don’t quote me on any of that.

When I moved to Melbourne in 2002 (cue Ministry of Sound Chillout Sessions 3), I started out south of the Yarra and being a newbie to this town, not only was I was oblivious to North versus South rivalry, I was also quite unaware of what the North had to offer. On the surface, I thought it was a dirty shithole full of full of unwashed bohemian hippies. I made the occasional trip to Brunswick St – with great disdain because it took, like, forever. And when I crossed the river again, between Richmond and South Yarra train stations, I felt at ease being back on terra firma. I enjoyed my little world in and around St Kilda; saying hello to the prostitutes whilst on my way for a walk along the Esplanade, beers at the Prince of Wales, the awesome delis on Carlisle St and I spent many a Friday night playing lots of pool at the Arcadia Hotel in South Yarra. Good times.

Once my Sister had moved to North Carlton and other friends were settling nearby in Collingwood, it was inevitable that I moved closer. I got as far as Richmond in 2004 and since then, I’ve progressively moved further north; spending the last 6 years in Carlton North, Fitzroy North, Thornbury and recently, back to Fitzroy North. I’ve also increasingly become more passionate and parochial about the north. It’s my life. It’s where relationships have been forged and failed, it’s where my kids were born and raised and it’s part of me. If an unknown rich relative bequests me a decent amount of cash for a house deposit, I’ll happily spend the rest of my life here. As for the south? I just think it’s pretentious.

Fortunately for me, as my deep-seated love for the north increased (as did my passion for all things food), the north became the biggest jewel in Melbourne’s culinary crown (southsiders may disagree), with Gertrude St becoming the new Brunswick St, then Smith St became the new Gertrude St, then pockets of places-to-be on St Georges Rd, High St in Northcote and Thornbury and the cool end of Lygon St.

Poor Nicholson Street missed a lot of it. Sure, there’s Pope Joan / The Bishop of Ostia and Milkwood, but they’re up the end past Brunswick Rd… and that’s East Brunswick, which is too cool for school anyway. Nicholson Village is the bit that roughly starts at one end around Reid / Richardson Sts and ends at Holden St / Brunswick Rd and for all it’s gems like Milawa Cheese, the two butchers, Artastic – for all your picture framing needs (gratuituous plug), it’s always been a little hit and miss for coffee and food.

Bramble & Vine is unfortunately not very well known, which is a damn shame because it’s great (review coming in the new year), other places like Birdie Num Nums were good, now are not so good. Then some guy from the, ugh, south had the temerity to expand on his ‘little’ cafe in South Melbourne and along came St. Ali North… BAM!

St. Ali North - Pic courtesty of Essjay

Putting a coffee shop on the Capital City Trail on Park Street, just off the corner of Nicholson Street, was always going to work. I would imagine that many others (myself included) would have had that idea in the back of their heads at some point. Fortunately Sal Malatesta and Jesse Gerner did it and from my (so far)  five visits, they have done it very well.

It’s not without it’s minor faults, but please bear in mind (that’s you, discerning urbanspoon reviewers) it’s been open for a little under a month and the reputation of its southside sibling has clearly preceded it. There was absolutely no way this place was going to get away with a soft opening, in December, during the festive season. I mean, people loved the concept of having the St Ali brand in their neck of the woods, some bastards stole their brand spanking new twin Synesso Hydro coffee machines, around $45,000 worth of kit! 

I haven’t had enough visits to get all funky with St. Ali North’s range of coffee offerings, but all of the strong skinny flat whites, short blacks and short macchiatos have been consistently exemplary and I’ve become so addicted to adding a tiny bit of the panela organic cane sugar (an unrefined, caramelly sugar that does not detract from the flavour of the coffee), I was compelled to leave with half a kg under my arm after today’s visit.

As for the food, I will continue to work my way through the menu and vow to not have the same thing twice until I’ve exhausted this promise… however the burger will be sure to get a more frequent work out. The ‘St. Ali Royale’ ($16) is a Wagyu beef burger topped with aged cheddar, house bacon (just look for it hanging in it’s own shrine), Russian dressing and housemade pickles on the side. Anywhere that offers a burger from 7am deserves a medal; especially if it’s made by someone with the same last surname (Chris Hamburger, as opposed to Chris St. Ali Royale… I don’t know where he works. Or if he exists).

St. Ali Royale

‘My Mexican Cousin’ ($21.50); a favourite on the South Melbourne St. Ali menu also features at North… fried sweet corn fritters with kasundi, halloumi, greens, tomato and poached eggs. I liked it, but overall the dish was a little on the dry side. My poached eggs were a tad over and perhaps some gooey-er yolks or the addition of some of their avocado mash would have provided some better balance.

My Mexican Cousin

Villa Verde free-range eggs come four ways - poached, scrambled, fried or 63’ 63° ($10.5o). You can add field mushrooms, haloumi or bean ragout for an extra $4 a pop. For $4.50, you can add either bacon, house-smoked salmon, morcilla or feta and avocado mash.

On another visit, trying to be a little bit healthy before Christmas, I stuck to poached eggs with bean ragout and avo mash. The avo was mash midly spiced and flecked with feta. The beans, whilst well flavoured, were a little tough, like when you salt the water when cooking any legumes. Overall though, it was great. I regret not getting the bacon though.

Poached eggs, bean ragout and avocado mash - Pic courtesy of Essjay

Other dishes tried by my various brekky partners include the house-baked fruit toast, with fruit conserve and labneh ($7.50) – it’s fruit toast, but damn good fruit toast – and Bircher muesli with mango, lychee and toasted nuts ($12.50) which is what Maximilian Bircher-Benner might have eaten when he went on holidays to Thailand.

Bircher with Mango & Lychee - Pic courtesy of Essjay

A simple kid’s menu is also offered. For $8 you can choose from several dishes, like scrambled eggs with bacon or a cheese toastie with tomato sauce on the side.

Due to the design and the concrete floors, the decibel levels can get a little out of control, but you can live with it.

Welcome to the neighbourhood.

(Thanks to SJ from essjay eats for loaning me a couple of pics. You can read her take on St. Ali North here)

St. Ali North
815 Nicholson St (on the bike path on Park St), Carlton North VIC
(03) 9686 2990
http://www.stali.com.au/

Good For: Raising the bar on great food and great coffee in the North
Not Good For: Impatient people; you could wait a little bit for a table and people with sensitive ears (you could listen to your iPod)

St Ali North on Urbanspoon

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Things to do in Mount Tambourine

If you could live somewhere solely for the abundance of produce and lifestyle, where would it be? Yarra Valley? Margaret River? Kangaroo Island? Tasmania?

I posed this question at lunch recently and although I was tossing up between Kangaroo Island and Tassie, ironically I was in a place that fits the bill nicely; Mount Tambourine on the Gold Coast.

Fear not, this is not turning into a travel blog. I know I haven’t blogged in quite a while, but Mount Tambourine is just so foodie-centric, so it made sense to pick out the foodie bits and share them.

I’ve been to Brisbane many times, but the Gold Coast hasn’t been all that far up my bucket list of ‘must see’ destinations, primarily because of this and this…

But after some light coercing from a good friend, who convinced me that I needed a weekend away from the hustle and bustle of Melbourne, I booked some flights.

Admittedly, I did know that there was far more to the Gold Coast than the sandy beaches of the Sunshine Coast, the high rise apartments and all of those fun parks that, according to my 5-year old, we just “have to go to” and I’d heard that there was some rainforest and a hinterland… whatever that is.

Mount Tambourine is no where near the guts of my perceived Gold Coast vision either, which was a good thing because my visit also (inadvertently) coincided with Schoolies and in no way did I want to be mistaken for one of these.

So, this place was largely on the hook for delivering a promise of good food and wine and it started well. Our first port of call was the MT Brewery, which formed part of a complex that incorporates Witches Chase Cheese and a Bistro and on the day (and irrelevant) a jewellery auction. It was encouraged to buy some cheese and a couple of small baguettes from the cheese shop and then buy some beer to drink with your cheeses at the brewery. We duly followed process and sampled some excellent, creamy blue and a goat’s chevre blended with kalamata tapanade.

MT Brewery make 6 or so beers and offer a tasting board of 4 beers for $10 or 5 beers for $12.50. The beers were full flavoured and of the ones we sampled, the Rainforest Lager, Black Cockatoo Lager (a porter-like beer), were the standouts.

My only gripe was the lack of attentiveness. Much of the revenue generated in and around Mount Tambourine is driven from tourism. MT Brewery only accepts cash, which is quite bizarre in this day and age. I had no cash, so I was asked to go and seek cash out from the cheese shop. The cheese shop advised that they did not provide cash out through EFTPOS and to use the ATM within the complex. The ATM was out of cash… a debacle. I eventually pleaded with the cheese shop to allow me to take cash out and as a result I bought a lovely bottle of caramelised red wine vinegar and some mustard fruits that I later notices were made for Aldi. Anyway, by the time I was cashed up, my already poured beers were a little warmer and a little flatter for the experience. It may sound a little trivial, but this is a tourism town.

Next on the list was sampling of the wares created by Tambourine Mountain Distillery. Alas, they guy on the website, possessing a strange resemblance to Santa Claus, was not there.

A $5 tasting fee is refunded upon purchase and for a fiver you can sample up to 5 different products ranging from liqueurs, schnapps, eaux de vie, vodkas, gins, grappa and so on.

We sampled lilly pilly gin, sloe gin, ginger vodka, passionfruit liqueur , choc-chilli liqueur and a couple of others… far more than five anyway and I bought a bottle of the ginger vodka on the premise that it would make an interesting bloody mary or something. It’s actually quite nice neat, straight out of the freezer. I hadn’t estimated consuming so much alcohol so early in the day, so I was getting a little sleepy. Lucky for me the next stop perked me up to no end.

The strange thing about Mount Tambourine is the European influence. Mount Tambourine is around 7 degrees cooler than the lower lands, so it’s safe to say that cooler conditions area little more conducive to the former European settlers. It’s still humid and tropical, but without the oppressive heat your may experience in other parts of Queensland.

With the European influence comes a few quirky shopfronts; forget to pack your wooden clogs? Done.

Drank too much schnapps and have a hankering for an elaborate $10,000 cuckoo clock with cool looking bears on it? They’ve got you sorted.

Hankering for some Polish stodge? Bingo.

Strangely enough, there aren’t too many places that showcase the overabundance of tropical fruits that are sold so cheaply at roadside stalls; avocados, mangoes, kiwi fruit and rhubarb are the main ones. Someone should open a Mexican place with an emphasis on good guacamole and tropical margaritas.

The real highlight was a 6-course degustation at Songbirds; a quiet and romantic (for others, probably) retreat nestled in amongst the extremely picturesque rainforest. The majorty of the dining ‘room’ is set in the open under a large weatherproof canopy. For the logistics of operating a fine dining restaurant, this is as close as you could get to literally being in the rainforest. I’d like to understand the rationale for deciding the canopy should be red. It’s not the most calming of colours and everything took on a not-too-easy-on-the-eyes pink hue, as you will see in some of the dessert pictures.

Awarded one hat in the Brisbane Good Food Guide for the last two years running, Songbirds could make a claim for a second, based on what we ate, drank and the overall experience.

Goat’s cheese with textures of beetroot, chardonnay-poached pear, tomato heart and walnut crumble was excellent, as was the roasted quail with charred baby leeks, mushrooms, chermoula, piccalilli pickles and some texture from some fried potato skins – nothing wasted.

The Wagyu beef cheek was succulent, slowly braised in masterstock on a base of parsnip skordalia, sprouts, enoki mushrooms, shallots and bits of seaweed.

A perfectly cooked lamb rump was delicious. So much so, I’d already started it and forgot to take a picture. The rump was poached in smoked Butter and thyme and a the soft spice from the accompanyingcumin and butternut puree worked well with the salty black olive coulis and simple grilled zucchini and sugar snap peas. A small, well made squid ink tortellini continaed a mixture of rosemary and sheep cheese. It was delicious, but not neccessarily with the other elements of the dish.

The final two courses were also on the mark, as was the fresh watermelon sorbet that preceded them; a simple wedge of goat’s cheese (the same that featured in the first course… not that I’m complaining) was drizzled in a pungent truffled honey and quenelle of confit shallot.

The last dish was the standout of the day; Tonka bean and muscovado rice pudding with Christmas pudding crumbs, white chocolate namelaka (a Japanese term for “creamy texture” – it’s more or less a ganache made with milk, emulsified, gelatin is added and finished with cream), burnt caramel ice cream and white chocolate brittle shards that contained lots of crunch and crackle. I’m probably the biggest hater of white chocolate, but I could have happily munched through more of this and hopefully Head Chef, Trent Dawson, is willing to part with his recipe!

All of this was a mere $110 or $160 when matched with some most excellent mid-priced and higher-end wines, fortifieds and even a refreshing lychee liqueur on ice with fresh lime, which accompanied our last course.

Mount Tambourine is an abolsute gem of a place that I definitely look forward to coming back to visit soon, although I don’t know if I will be able to get away with a trip to the Gold Coast again, without the kids and without a visit to the fun parks and the other places that the Gold Coast is unfortunately more famous for.

Songbirds
Tambourine Mountain Rd, North Tambourine QLD
(03) 5545 2563
http://www.songbirds.com.au/

Good For: A romantic getaway if you’re that way inclined, great food in a natural, picturesque setting… Ignore the low urbanspoon score, it’s excellent
Not Good For: People that are scared of snakes. I didn’t see any but they’re always talking about them. I did see a bush turkey though.

Songbirds on Urbanspoon