Merricote – 81 High St, Northcote 3070

I love my birthday. Not as much as I used to when back in the day, I’d exploit it to the hilt, spreading it across nine days (two weekends and five weekdays). Nowadays I’m lucky to milk it for no more than the day itself and the closest weekend to it.

This means that invariably, quality reigns over quantity and so my choice of restaurant for my Friday night celebration was to be a good one. But I also wanted to go somewhere that I’d been yearning to try, rather than heading back to familiar digs. Merricote was high up on the list of ‘my next place to go’, so the choice was easy.

The recent winner of the 2012 The Age Good Food Guide’s Best Short Wine List, Merricote has come on to the scene in a big way over the last seven or so months, yet when you walk in your first thoughts are… well, it’s quite unassuming. A simply decorated dining room features some large prints on the walls of the ‘staple’ animals we like to devour: pig, cow, chicken… and some quirky figurine farm animals feature here and there. To add to the simplicity, there is no bar or counter, allowing for more space between tables of this 30-seater, making the room feel totally devoid of that claustrophobic feeling you can experience at some places. It works very well in this relaxing, laid-back, lounge-room setting. Ideal for dinner with good friends. 

Bronwyn, co-owner (with other half, Rob, slaving away in the kitchen), sommelier and front-of-house made us feel very welcome from the moment we stepped in the front door, ushering us to our table promptly and offering us a choice of Northcote’s finest tap water (as featured in the drinks menu) or Antipodes sparkling mineral water.

Over a couple of glasses of pleasant French bubbles ($19) we perused the menu which featured four dishes each under the categories of charcuterie, small bites, starters, mains, sides, desserts and a highly anticipated cheese trolley. A degustation menu was also available at $65 for six courses.

Some exceptional house made bread rolls were offered; a choice of a seeded brown, dark beer-based roll or a floury white roll with fennel. Being ever so health conscious, I stuck to the brown roll which was outstandingly fluffy and even better with a generous spread of softened butter, which if I was a betting man looked and tasted like Naomi’s butter from Myrtleford.

Settling on the a’la carte menu, our first choice was a clearly obvious; a selection of charcuterie ($22). We were promptly presented with a board laden with thinly sliced handmade salami, capicola and some other tasty cured meat, served with some house made piccalilli and cornichons. I found the piccalilli a little too salty, K disagreed. Each to their own, I guess. We popped the top of a jar of the most delicious duck rillettes – the best rillettes I’ve eaten to date! A well judged ratio of duck fat to the slowly cooked and well-seasoned duck meat, which was chunkier than what you’d expect. It was more like pieces of confit duck than the finer shred of meat you’d expect from rillettes. Not that I was complaining.

A slice of pigs’ head terrine was paired with an excellent, chunky sauce grebiche. I also decided that I wasn’t a big fan of pigs’ head, which is absolutely of no disrespect to the kitchen. I’ve tried a number of times now; as brawn / head cheese, plus a number of variations. I don’t know… maybe it’s a texture thing. Anyway, that was my problem. Some (again) house made lavosh was on hand to scoop, spread and devour what was a great start to our night. In hindsight, the charcuterie selection was probably a little ambitious for just the two of us and probably better suited for 3 or 4 like-minded carnivores.

We also ordered the beetroot, walnut and goats cheese salad ($14) to share, providing an extra foil to the rich proteins. We were both unanimous in declaring this as a most perfectly balanced salad. Pickled baby turnips and baby beetroots featured with some very fresh pieces of walnut, twice shelled broad beans and various micro herbs – all atop goats cheese foam, which had all of the full flavour of the cheese combined with the lighter-than-air texture of a whipped mascarpone. Delicious.

Our choices for main dishes ($29-$32), as well as they were executed, seemed a little out of place as they would be much more suited to a Winter menu, as opposed to it being half way though Spring.

K chose the ‘nose to tail’ lamb; a couple of perfectly cooked and seasoned cutlets, some braised meat combined with mushroom and shaped into a cylinder, then pan fried, a crumbed and fried nugget of brain (which immediately found its way to yours truly) and, served separately en papillote, was a rich and robust braise with white beans. 

I opted for the rump of  beef, cooked to medium rare and served on a ragu (of sorts) of chickpeas, mushrooms and braised ox tail. The cooking of the rump was to order, although one piece was a little on the chewy side. By and large, the execution was bang on, but it just seemed a little too hearty for October.

We selected a refreshing shaved cabbage, mint and barrel-aged fetta salad, which was lightly dressed with tangy vinaigrette. An excellent counterpoint to our mains. We drank a 2008 Whistling Eagle Sangiovese. As a choice between the aforementioned and a Tuscan Sangiovese, we asked the advice of Bronwyn, whose recommendation did not let us down.

As much as we were already close to satiation, we had to see the famed cheese trolley. An awesome selection of 15 cheeses were wheeled over to us: soft, semi-soft, hard, goat, cow, sheep, washed rind, ashed, blue mould, wrapped in stuff… take your pick! There were too many to mention (or remember for that matter). If only we knew, we wouldn’t have made pigs of ourselves earlier. Still, we settled on the Holy Goat Veloute. Bronwyn took our selection from the trolley and deftly proceeded to slice the top off like a skilled surgeon. We selected a few dried figs and some more of the house made lavosh. The figs were a perfect accompaniment to dip into the ripe, creamy, sweet and slightly nutty gooey goodness.

Maybe the cheese gave me a second wind. Maybe it was birthday magic. Maybe it was just plain greed and the hope K was paying. I was determined to push on through to dessert. And I’m glad I did.

The aptly titled Dutch messhomage to all things orange lived up to its name. It was probably also the most carnival-esque and fun desserts I’ve had. A well thought out combination of bitter blood orange segments and jelly surrounded a disc of creamy vanilla ice cream. Delicate orange and yellow flower petals were visually stunning but added nothing to the flavour (perhaps some peppery nasturtiums instead?) and were a little feathery at the back of my throat. On top of  the largely bitter ingredients, a contrasting layer of light and airy orange blossom-flavoured Persian fairly floss and a precise scoop of orange sorbet featured. No one ingredient dominated another and alas, my life was a little less bright once it had disappeared.

A well made espresso rounded out the night and my birthday feast.

Questionable seasonality of the main dishes aside, Merricote is an absolute gem of a place and we’re quite spoilt to have it at the bottom of Ruckers Hill and The Estelle at the top. High Street, Northcote continues to the up the ante and the best thing is that us locals get to reap the rewards with good, honest and unpretentious food that’s combined with an extensive, well sourced wine list – all of which is excellent value and all of which Merricote delivers with aplomb.

Thanks for making my birthday special.

Merricote
81 High St, Northcote 3070
(03) 9939 4762
http://www.merricote.com.au/ (website coming soon)

Good For: Sticking it up the people on the other side of the river; we’ve got it better than them
Not Good For: Seasonal confusion

Merricote on Urbanspoon

Four in Hand – 105 Sutherland St, Paddington

My day job requires some interstate travel. These days, it’s Sydney and sometimes it’s an overnight trip. For most overnighters, I’m far too knackered to bother with anything remarkable for dinner. I’m probably more confortable at the hotel bar or a local pub over whatever book I’ve brought with me or, boringly catching up on work. How sad.

If I do grab something to eat, I’ll tend to head back to my hotel room and order room service. I cannot bring myself to sit at a table for one looking all forlorn, with my bottom lip quivering and all of the other tables of two; the couples and the other tables of four and six, looking over at me and feeling sorry for me because I’m eating alone.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

However my latest epiphany was to better utilise my occasional stayovers in Sydney. There are a whole bunch of restaurants north of the border that remain on my wish list and it would be remiss of me as a food blogger to let these opportunities pass me by, even if it meant [gasp] eating alone!

The likes of Marque, Quay and the other three-hatted establishments are probably a little too extreme for what really boils down to a simple meal out on a school night. Well, it’s probably a little more than that. Regardless, Four in Hand was my clear first choice, by a mile. After hearing a lot about Colin Fassnidge this year, I’ve remained intrigued at his refined take on the Nose-to-Tail food philosophy. Can you take such robust cuts of an animal and make them pretty? I was going to find out.

Four in Hand is a pub with a really good dining room attached… or is it the other way around? Anyway, the pub itself is your typical inner-suburban Sydney pub; tiled walls retained but not tired in looks… it reminded me a little of the front bar at the Lincoln in Carlton, albeit with a few pokie machines tucked away (nearly) out of view. With the youngish post-work crowd filtering in to take advantage of the $5 ‘happy hour’ schooners, served by the effervescent and quite attractive female bar staff, you would not expect there was a two-hat restaurant attached to this establishment. Only do you begin to realise that this is a little different when the specials board in the front bar reads Pork Rillettes and Crumbed Pigs Tail with Celeriac Remoulade.

After a few cleansing $5 schooners, I prised myself from the bar stool and made my way into the dining room, to be ushered to my solitary table for one [sob], near the window. On the converse, when you enter the dining room, you would not expect there was a bustling, lively pub on the other side of the door. It’s a great contrast.

The menu is fairly minimal, with six or so different starters and the same of mains. This makes good sense, given there’s so much care, attention and effort invested into some very pretty dishes. The over-sized mirror on the wall next to the kitchen lists the specials of the night; freshly shucked natural oysters and a tempting cumin-spiced 12-hour lamb shoulder served with baby carrots, colcannon, minted yoghurt and rosemary jus ($88 for 2 people). One of the number of waiting staff that served me on the night tried to coerce me: “it could feed one and if there’s any left over, we could organise a doggy bag”. Then I see the beast of a shoulder being served to another table. I don’t think so.

There was to be no ordering off the menu on this night. I was here for the whole experience and I given it may be some time before I visited Four in Hand again, I may as well go out with all guns blazing, taking no prisoners, etc, etc. There were two degustation menus to choose from; a five course degustation menu ($90 + an optional $60 with matching wines) or you could really give it a nudge with the Chef’s Menu; an eight course degustation menu ($120 + an optional $70 with matching wines).

I ambitiously opted for the latter and proceedings were duly opened with some top notch sourdough (from Iggy’s, which seems to be the bread of choice in good Sydney restaurants), good butter and a Delgado Zuleta ‘La Goya’ Manzanilla Sherry as a palate cleanser. This was closely followed by the kitchen’s amuse-bouche; a smoked fish, paprika and basil soup, aptly served in an espresso cup (the colour of the soup resembled a good crema). The soup was light and refreshing. A citrus zing hit the sides of my tongue, finishing on creaminess. A great start.

Soon after, my first course of seared Bonito with avocado, apple jelly and cucumber arrived. A very pretty dish, unusually served in a tuna tin atop some pebbles. An interesting touch but I’m not sure as to what it represented. It made me feel like I was eating a bloody good tin of cat food (note: this is a weird compliment) due to the tuna and jelly components. A 2010 Domäne Wachau Gewürztraminer, was a light and fruity accompaniment to the dish.

The second course was to become my favourite of the night. Sometimes you eat or drink something that instantly makes you smile because it’s so damn good and this dish did just that. A small mound of well seasoned, fresh crab, lobster and corn kernels were served in a shallow bowl with a soft, yielding braised pig’s tail. An accompanying petite jug of rich, fishy bisque was poured at the table by one of the waiting staff to complete this unforgettable dish. The saltiness of the bits of corn and seafood were heavenly against the sweetness and unctuousness of the pig’s tail and the creaminess of the bisque which also provided the slightest ever back note of spice. A perfect marriage of flavours and textures. In short, the most defining superlative is that it was just fucking amazing. The accompanying Denis Pommier Petit Chablis Chardonnay was again a great match, particularly with the creaminess of the bisque.

Course number three was a well cooked piece of roasted kingfish, smoked eel, beetroot reduction, beetroot leaves and a soft pillow of gnocchi. An exceptional range of textures, lightened by the beetroot leaves. The smokiness and saltiness of the eel played off against the sweet reduction. Just make sure you eat this dish with a little care and caution as the potential splashback from the beetroot could ruin one’s shirt if not careful. As for wine, my notes go as far as telling me that the accompanying drop was an ‘Italian white’… Great note taking, Paul.

We then moved into the serious stuff, crossing from the lighter dishes into some more hearty fare. Pig; head to toe or nose to tail… or something similar was a great example of an uber-rich dish done well, leaving you (greedily) wanting more. A piece of perfectly cooked pork belly, a chop from a rack (complete with crackling) and pickled snout were served on a dark wooden board with a number of accompaniments that worked very well to off-set the richness; kale, pickled turnips and a vanilla puree. Rustic food with some serious polish. An obvious match was from the lighter spectrum of reds in the form of a Tuscan Sangiovese (Casabianca Chianti Colli Senesi DOCG).

The second meat course was liquorice-braised beef brisket, an ever so tender slice of veal (tenderloin?) on top of a smoked puree, a small stack of some very precise onion rings and a carrot and Manzanilla sherry puree to accompany a generous length of roasted bone marrow. The sherry in the carrot puree was a masterstroke, another addition incorporated to off-set the richness, in this case the marrow. The liquorice sauce was subtle, sticky, rich and oh so warming, as was the familiar McLaren Vale Penny’s Hill Shiraz to compliment the dish.

I could have happily rolled out out of the front door at this point, but there was still a way to go. You observe a lot more  when you’re dining by yourself and earlier in the evening, sitting on top of a cabinet just below the stair case, I spied what was the largest cheese board in the world. An array of eight or nine, maybe ten, seriously good imported cheeses; three types of goat’s cheese, a very ripe d’Affinois, comté, cheddar, a couple of washed rind cheeses and a couple of blue cheeses. Had I not been five dishes into an eight-course meal, I would have loved to try them all, but I duly settled on the d’Affinois, comté, one of the blue cheeses and one of the washed rind cheeses.

As the cheeses were being taken into the kitchen to be sliced and served, three wine glasses were placed on the table, each filled with a different dessert wine to compliment the final courses. If my memory serves me correctly (as my notes surely don’t) there was a Botrytis Semillon, a Rutherglen Muscadelle (the ‘new’ name for a tokay) and a Pedro Ximenez – or something similar. Clearly, things were getting a little hazy at this point.

The cheeses were, as expected, exemplary and served with the lightest and bestest ever house-made lavosh I have ever come across. If Colin ever takes the Luke Mangan route and touts a whole bunch of stuff for people to take home, this is one thing he should consider selling… in addition to jars of pickled pig snouts.

The penultimate course was a prune puree, Armagnac cream, and hot ginger crumble. It’s a damn shame the cold months are over as I’ll be madly trying to replicate this crunchiest crumble ever recipe next winter, although the waiter hinted that Demerara sugar was used. Brilliant!

I barely had the room to manage the last course. Alas, it wasn’t the ‘4’s’ Chocolate Snickers, but chocolate and beetroot; a chocolate delice on a beetroot sauce, beetroot cubes, beetroot and ginger sorbet, chocolate tuile and a fine dusting of cocoa… I think I managed to remember everything. Sometimes you can come across some pretty naff pairings of beetroot and chocolate, but this hit the mark. The best example I have tasted of how and why these two ingredients can work so well together, in addition to the other things like the contrasting textures – crunchy tuile versus soft delice and the heat from the ginger against a cold sorbet.

Some Cointreau and chocolate truffles with a well made short black managed to find the last of the vacant room in my tummy, to round out what was a most exceptional and memorable experience.

As much as I don’t like eating alone and some will argue that you do not need good friends to enjoy good food, I am yet to agree. Sharing in conversation and sharing the experience are just as much, especially when it’s this good. Let’s hope I can rid myself of this self-effacing, oh-woe-is-me attitude so I can continue to discover Sydney’s other delights when I am again on my lonesome. I also hope Four in Hand hasn’t set the bar too high.

Four in Hand
105 Sutherland St, Paddington 2021
(03) 9362 1999
http://www.fourinhand.com.au/

Good For: Convincing staunch Melburnians that the Sydney food scene is smoking
Not Good For: Nothing, really. It was all too good.

Four in Hand on Urbanspoon