On writing...

I once read somewhere that the key to blogging is perseverance. I have failed dismally at that - letting myself return to this page only at whim, when the words fall into place, and when I am in the right mood. I have contemplated stopping many a time, but every now and then, I get a lovely surprise - a message from a reader telling me how much they love the blog, or stumbling across it on the Melbourne Food & Wine Festival's website. When I started this, I never thought it would get very far, and for me, it's still a humble pastime that I dabble with every now and then, but I must admit that it's these kind words and little nudges that give me a twinge of happiness, and spur me to come back time after time.

At the start of this year, I did question my return to blogging (or writing as I prefer to call it). It's not the cheapest hobby (though entirely pleasurable), and I must admit that I relished going out to dine without whipping out an SLR and trying to capture it all on film. There's a certain level of intrusiveness with it, and I tired of living the beauty of the dish from behind the lens of the camera, and of losing the wonderment and joy of immersing myself in the sensory experience of dining. I think there's a certain mystique of not knowing what the dish will look like, or what will be in it, and sometimes blogging takes away all of that, creating preset notions and ideas of what it should be.

Since my last post, I've gone back to Rockpool and had a wonderfully romantic meal with H (the food there is still top-notch even though it's been two years since our last visit), visited a delightful Japanese restaurant called Komeyui in Port Melbourne, which serves sublime Japanese dishes (the quail is a must, as is the wagyu steak), and had a gorgeous birthday lunch with my sister at Donovans, which still serves up excellent seafood and a bloody good spicy clam juice Bloody Mary.

I've sat in a car watching the sun set on the stunning D'Entrecasteaux river, eating large, plump and juicy Bruny Island oysters out of a box, shucked and ripe from the sea, and wandered through the small but excellent Sunday farmers market in Hobart, where we tasted the freshest sea urchin sushi from Masako's in Geeveston, and had more oysters, this time done Kilpatrick.We met Matthew Evans, flogging his Rare Food range incognito in a beanie, and left with the best free range ham and bacon we've ever had, along with too much Bruny Island Cheese. I guess these memories are more vivid since we actually lived them, and that's what I love about it.

And so, from here, I'm not quite sure how things will be. I've reviewed the existing posts on this blog and edited the list - and may eventually decide to go the Australian Gourmet Traveller path of only writing about the places that really strike me. Potentially, this will be more recipe focused - given H's passion for cooking and recipe-tweaking. We'd also love to cook more after a particularly busy time in our lives - him, the fine stuff, and me, down another one of my new constantly rehashed fads of healthy eating (I chose Gwyneth Paltrow's Notes from my Kitchen Table over Nigella's Kitchen today because the other downside of reviewing is the expanding waistline and extravagant amount of butter, salt and cream!)

I think that in this busy, hectic whirlwind of a world, it is good to have a passion, a focus, a hobby. And food will always remain a central part of our lives, because it is what we love, what we crave, and what we seek. And so, in some way or form, we will continue down this path - however infrequent our posts may be. I hope you stay tuned for the next phase in our journey.

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Sandwich Season

H recently bought Saveur's sandwich issue - a gorgeously produced tome celebrating the humble sandwich and the simple (think grilled cheese) and extraordinary status it has been elevated to. One of the recipes I love is the Fried Calamari Sandwich, a wonderful mix of crisp calamari rings and slightly spicy chilli mayo. H dusted the calamari with semolina instead of cornmeal, added carrot batons and gave the cilantro, carrots and cucumber a banh mi style treatment, creating a lovely east-meets-west sandwich with a whole lot of punch. Perfect for a simple weeknight meal when it's cold.

I love that Saveur has been generous enough to share their recipes online, so if you're craving a sandwich that's perhaps a bit more gutsy or exotic than this one, then head to their website here. If you want the full, glossy, gorgeously styled magazine experience though, get a subscription for Saveur through Zinio. It's cheaper then buying the magazine here, and because it's digital-only, you don't have to worry about all those trees cut down for magazine paper.

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International Incident Party - Gumbo

I love seafood. I've had them battered with butter and Nestum and deep fried till crisp and crunchy, or in the form of drunken lobsters, brewed in a deliciously briny mix of chicken stock, plenty of Chinese rice wine and goji berries. Seafood stews are hard to find in Asia, and it wasn't till I came here that I had my first taste of crustacean soups - saffron-y bouillabaisse with a dash of orzo and smoky seafood (Neil Perry's), hearty paellas with generous chunks of seafood (Movida) and dressed up pasta marinara coated in a lovely rich crustacean dressing (Gill's Diner).

For this International Incident Party, H created a gorgeous syrupy seafood bisque packed with plenty of crustacean flavour. He poured this over a white bean puree, black pudding disc, ribbons of calamari and juicy prawns, and topped it off with some fillets of red mullet and crisp baguette slices - a perfect winter dish! Here is the recipe:

Seafood Creole Gumbo 
400g red mullet, cleaned
1kg prawn shells
25ml vegetable oil
75g butter
1 carrot, half an onion and 1 celery stick, chopped
2 garlic cloves
1 tablespoon tomato paste
50ml white wine
25ml Bourbon
2 sprigs thyme
1.5 litres water
40ml cream
2 tsp smoked paprika
pinch saffron
salt and pepper
an additional 15ml vegetable oil
an additional 25g butter
a few drops of fresh lemon juice
Brown Roux:
30g flour
30g butter
White Bean Puree:
400g can white beans 
100g desiree potato 
100g butter
Seasoning
To Serve:
1 squid, cleaned, cut into strips
200g black pudding
200g prawn meat
Crusty bread
Olive oil

Serves 4

Fillet red mullet keeping skeletons aside for soup. There should be 3 fillets per person.

Heat the vegetable oil in a pressure cooker, add the prawn shells and red mullet skeletons and saute until lightly caramelised. Add 25g of the butter, the chopped vegetables, paprika and garlic and saute for another 10 minutes. Add the tomato paste, stir well and cook for 2 minutes. Then, pour in the white wine, stirring well, before adding the Bourbon (reserve a splash to finish the bisque) and the thyme.

Add the water, bring up to pressure and cook for 40 minutes, then strain the soup through a sieve, pushing the ingredients forcefully with a wooden spoon to extract as much of the juice and pulp as possible. Pass the soup through a finer sieve, add saffron and then set aside.

Meanwhile, boil a potato until soft and mash finely with the drained can of white beans. Put mixture into a saucepan and heat then season and slowly add butter, mixing thoroughly with each addition. Set aside and keep warm.

In a clean saucepan big enough to hold the soup, melt butter over high heat. Add the flour and cook stirring constantly until flour is brown. Immediately add a little of the soup and stir until thickened. Continue adding soup in this fashion until all the soup has been added and set aside.

Heat oil in a saucepan to a high heat then add black pudding and red mullet fillets. When cooked, remove and keep warm. Add butter to the saucepan and cook prawns until done and set aside. Add squid and quickly saute until curled.

Pipe puree into the bowls (forming the base), then place a piece of black pudding on top. Arrange the mullet on top of the black pudding and surround with the prawns and squid. Pour the bisque into the bowls and serve with crusty bread drizzled with olive oil.

This month's International Incident Party was organised by the lovely Penny from Jeroxie.

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The Waiting Room

I love royal weddings. And I know I'm not the only person swept up in the upcoming nuptials of HRH Prince William and Ms Catherine Middleton. From London to Australia, luxury hotels are flaunting their royal wedding afternoon teas, the little German bakery that creates the torte cakes for the royal family have had to call in more bakers to keep up with the demand, and people are throwing Royal Wedding parties as part of the celebrations.

While the menu here isn't exactly British or royal themed, The Waiting Room is still a great place for wedding talk and some girly catch-up. It's posh, cosy and intimate with silvery mirrored walls, plush leather seats, a perpetual purple hue, and a golden glow from the dim lights. The candles are encased in silver and glass holders, the menus are wrapped in red leather and there's an excerpt from 'The Old Waldorf-Astoria Bar Book - 1935' about Gentlemen and more refined times.

I don't profess to be a cocktail expert, but the ones here are pretty damn good. For starters, I had the Floradora #2, a delightfully blush-hued concoction of house-made raspberry syrup and a pretty strong house Ginger Beer, Cuban-style white rum and the juice of some freshly squeezed lime. I loved it.

Tempted into sin, I ordered another - the buttered toast & honey margarita with a burnt toast Reposado Tequila, lime, honey & agave. This was gorgeous with a more complex taste than the fruitier, flirtatious Floradora #2. There was the sweetness from the honey & agave (which I can't help but associate with Gwyneth Paltrow), and the slightest hint of notes of burnt toast. I could easily have continued down the cocktail list (they are all $19 each) if I wasn't starting to feel just the slightest bit woozy.

Cocktails aren't complete without some nibbles and our eyes were drawn to the mixed plate of four Montaditos (Little Open Sandwiches) for $12. The chef's choice of the day - Avruga caviar with boiled egg, braised tuna & mayonnaise, chorizo and serrano ham. These were bite-sized baguettes of pleasure. The ingredients were top-notch, and the flavours clean, simple and thoroughly enjoyable.

The mixed board of Pinchos (Four skewers) are also a must-try ($10.50) and give a taste of the different pincho options. Cubes of tuna & white anchovy, tuna & prawn and a marinated red pepper & pickled chilli are topped with pickled olives, while sheets of Serrano ham sit on top of a generous hunk of cheese and a clove of pickled garlic. These were also beautifully executed, the exceptional quality of the ingredients and uncomplicated flavour combinations shining through, though they do have a tendency to drip with oil (grab that napkin)!

The Waiting Room's a great place to drop by if you're in the area and aching for a good drink. I'd love to try the Empanadas next, and perhaps a croquette or two. If it's dinner I'm after though, then I'd probably head to Rockpool Grill, and Spice Temple does some fabulous desserts, not to mention cocktails which you can match to your Chinese astrological sign. With Neil Perry's empire firmly situated in this wing of Crown, it's all up to what tickles your fancy.

The Waiting Room
Crown Complex, 8 Whiteman Street, Southbank VIC
03 8679 1800

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A Japanese Tea Ceremony

H & I were supposed to be heading to Japan this month. It is a place that  has always held a certain fascination for me. I remember watching Memoirs of a Geisha and imagining Kyoto to be just like that. Narrow lane ways, exquisite traditional Japanese architecture - a place preserved and untouched by time and the ravages of modern society. I was therefore disappointed to find, while watching the making of the movie, that save for some little pockets, Kyoto wasn't the vision of my dreams. Still, it held a glimpse into a rich and elegant culture and history, and we made plans to spend a night at a traditional ryokan and experience the region's famed kaiseki.

It was a shattering moment when the earthquake and tsunami struck and the country was subsequently grappled by the still unfolding nuclear catastrophe. I watched the live coverage of the disaster anxiously, and when the Australian media networks started easing off on news, turned to the international news networks to keep abreast of events in the country. I held the hope that the Japanese people would be alright, that the next day would bring some good news, and that I would somehow be able to visit. I did in fact receive the most lovely and gracious emails from the ryokan we'd hoped to stay with imploring us to visit. However, given the country's lack of crucial resources, imposing anything further seemed selfish. I still hope for the best for the country.

There is a slice of Japan to be found in Melbourne though, at Kimono House in the Nicholas Building. I visit every now and then (they have a divine collection of beautiful Japanese fabrics, yukata, kimono and obis), and spotted a flyer on an Autumn Japanese Tea Ceremony. H's uncle studied the art for several years, and kindly gave us a beautiful Japanese tea ceremony set as a present recently. Both of us are deeply fascinated with the art and rituals surrounding it, and booked in a yukata dressing and tea ceremony session.

Held on the sixth floor of the Nicholas Building, the Japanese Tea Ceremony is quite a magical experience. According to Ueda Soko Ryu's sensei Adam Wojcinski (above), the tea ceremony is akin to a form of meditation, a quiet time for the samurai warlords of the past. It is a feeling that permeates you when you take that first step down the darkened corridor towards the room where the ceremony will be held. The faint scent of charred incense fills the air, and there is a hushed silence as we approach. We are greeted at the entrance by the Ueda Soko Ryu crest, and a Japanese calligraphic scroll, as well as a host of tea ceremony staff dressed in exquisite yukatas and kimonos.

With its bamboo blinds filtering in a lovely morning light, it was easy to imagine we were somewhere else. If anything, we wished that they had laid out the tatami mats for a true Japanese experience, but as Adam aptly noted, Westerners aren't used to kneeling on the floor! As with everything Japanese, attention was devoted to the details - a piece of calligraphy depicting the moon and reeds in fitting with autumn, when the moon is at its fullest, and a low table hosting a simple bamboo vase adorned with a single vivid yellow flower.

While the sweet is usually served with the tea, in this instance we were served before the ceremony began, so as not to distract from the ritual. I've never seen or tasted a Japanese sweet that hasn't come out of a packet before, so it was refreshing to be served something so beautiful and exquisite. Azuki (red bean) paste was enclosed in a soft, mochi esque, green tea shell adorned with a simple autumn leaf. This was extraordinarily fresh - nothing like the Japanese desserts I've tasted here.

We weren't allowed to take photos during the ceremony (and sometimes taking photos does detract from the beauty of the experience), so we only have an opening shot just before its commencement. It is a long, formal ritual, where each movement is precise and deliberate. There is the inspection of the whisk, the wiping of the bowl, the folding of the fabrics used to clean the equipment - all executed in a specific and exacting manner. I've been to a Chinese tea ceremony before and it certainly is a far departure from the elegant and formal beauty surrounding the Japanese one.

At the end of the ceremony, we were each served a bowl of tea in earthenware bowls of different makes and sizes. I love Japanese pottery - the little bumps and speckles and imperfections in them, and it was deeply therapeutic inhaling the sensual grassy fragrance of the vivid green tea, and savouring its delicate bitterness. The tea was also unlike anything I'd tasted before. Imported from Japan, it is the preferred variety of the 16th Grandmaster of the Ueda Soko tradition imported from Hiroshima.

After the class, we were given the opportunity to inspect the utencils used. I was particularly fascinated with these Japanese water vessels - the one on the left chosen for its wide mouth (reflecting the fuller moon in autumn) and delicate reed pattern (echoing the reeds in the calligraphy). The gorgeous metal hot water vessel on the right rests on a bed of fine white powder - ground oyster shells from Hiroshima - with a nest in the middle for the fragrant Japanese charcoal.

Tea ceremony details can be found on the Kimono House website and through Ueda Soko Ryu's Facebook page.

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Sweet Potato Doughnuts - Kueh Keria

I have a love affair with sweet potatoes. I adore them as thin ribbons, fried and dusted with salt as crisps at Hooked, and as sweet little cubes in the Malaysian dessert bubur cha cha. We had some boiled sweet potato left over after making this recipe, and H added a disc of butter and a smattering of pepper, transforming the simple tuber into a delicious side dish. It's sweet potato bliss.

Kueh Keria or the Malaysian version of a doughnut, is one of my favourite childhood treats. My mum used to whip this up for tea, hot from the wok, a lovely golden orange-brown and gorgeously soft and springy. I love it's chewy texture and syrupy glaze, and while I'm partial to the sugar-dusted custard or chocolate-filled beignets at Laurent, I find myself craving this one.

Note: While it isn't traditional, H suggested spicing up the sugar syrup with some ginger slices. You can omit this if you don't like ginger.


Kueh Keria - fried sweet potato doughnuts
Makes six petite doughnuts

200g sweet potatoes
30g glutinous rice flour
extra glutinous rice flour for dusting the doughnuts
oil for deep frying

Sugar syrup
70g sugar
25ml water
several slices of ginger

Peel and boil sweet potatoes until soft, then mash till it becomes a paste. Mix the paste with the sifted glutinous rice flour to form a dough. Dust hands with a little glutinous rice flour, then take a small fistful of dough and shape it into a doughnut. Dust the doughnut with a little glutinous rice flour and set aside. Repeat until the dough is finished.

Heat the oil and deep fry the doughnuts till they turn a lovely golden-brown. While frying, mix the sugar, water and ginger in a small saucepan until it forms a clear syrup. Turn off the heat before the syrup caramelizes. Drain the doughnuts on some kitchen paper, then serve hot with the sugar syrup drizzled over.

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Atlantic

I've been in hibernation mode recently. There's nothing more alluring then curling up on the couch after a hot bath and long day at work, wrapped in my throw with the latest issue of Australian Gourmet Traveller or madison and a steaming cup of chai tea. I've had little inclination to write or cook, but I simply couldn't refuse after H took me on a surprise date to Atlantic.


Atlantic is dark, brooding and expansive. Think dark wooden slats, lights draped in black cord, deep timbers and slate grays. We were seated in the section at the very end, which didn't have a view of the open kitchen, but which I liked because it afforded some privacy.

To start, we had a dozen oysters from Coffin Bay, Tea Tree Bay, Cloudy Bay and Wallis Lake ($4.50 each). These arrived freshly shucked, and simply adorned with plump lemon wedges and a dish of shallot vinaigrette. The oysters were sublime - refreshingly briny and wonderfully fresh. They were some of the best we've had, though Cumulus Inc and Rockpool may just have that slight edge in the oyster stakes.

One of the entrees that caught my eye was the Basque style razor clams with bell peppers, capers, chorizo and Fino sherry ($28). I love razor clams - the last time I had them was in Asia where they were served hot from the wok, steamy, salty and liberally drizzled with finely chopped garlic. They are hard to come by, so it was a treat to eat them here. This dish was very well executed, the finely sliced bell peppers imbued with the lovely, foamy sauce and accented with the slight tartness of the capers. It arrived lukewarm, but we still mopped every last bit up unashamedly.

The Atlantic Seafood Cocktail with crayfish, scallop, crab, prawn, mussel, iceberg, rock melon, green apple, basil and soft boiled quail eggs ($32) sounded like a real treat, and so we ordered it. It's a very novel interpretation of a classic dish, with generous portions of the seafood placed atop a rock melon jelly. Unfortunately, it wasn't love at first bite with this. The seafood was bland, without that lovely salty taste of the sea, and seemed an odd match to the slightly sweet rock melon jelly. It was disappointing.

I went with the Black Bream "En Papillote" ($48) for the main, which arrived in a neatly tucked baking paper bag, cut open at the table to unleash its fragrant aromas. Perhaps I've been reading too much French Women Don't Get Fat - I expected this dish to be bland, being a healthy option, but it was surprisingly delicious. The fish was sweet and juicy with a lovely savoury broth, and the batons of leek and fennel, oyster mushrooms and (liberal shavings of) Tasmanian truffle were a sublime touch.

H had a perch on the bone, wood fired and served with a lemon wedge and beurre blanc sauce ($43). This was beautifully done, the flesh falling off the bone, and full of that wonderful, smoky taste that comes with all things wood fired. The sauce was a winner too. We used this as a dip for our side - the thrice cooked potatoes.

The thrice cooked Russet potatoes with rosemary, garlic and sea salt ($12) were wonderfully hot and crisp, but we still think the counterpart at Donovan's is a tough one to beat. We also had the sauteed baby spinach with garlic and chilli ($14), a slightly underwhelming dish. Given the generously sized mains, we struggled with the sides - they probably aren't necessary if you are planning on having dessert!

I always love it when desserts leave me on a deliriously happy note and the pastry chef at Atlantic left me in that blissful sugar state. The raspberry tart with sugared almonds and a raspberry sorbet ($19) was simply divine, the sorbet lusciously smooth and a beautiful shade of blush, and the cream filling light and pillowy soft. The pastry was the perfect accompaniment to the berry and cream creation, the fine shell cracking open with a firm tap, and who can resist the crunch and taste of slivers of sugared almonds?

The rum sandwich with a Valrhona chocolate sorbet ($20) was just as sublime. Laced with plenty of plump, rum-infused raisins and a healthy dose of rum, this felt like an adults-only dessert, though the sandwich concept was plenty of fun. The Valrhona chocolate was delightfully rich as well; we were glad to have the raspberry tart to cut through the rich chocolatey-ness.

Our thoughts on Atlantic? Given the plethora of great casual dining restaurants around Melbourne (Cumulus, Coda) I found the price point of the dishes steep, though H reckons they're on par with other fine dining places. The ingredients here are truly fresh, and treated with great integrity and respect, and we loved the variety of fish and shellfish offered, but we feel that they might still have a little space to grow. Dononvans still wears the crown for some of the best seafood in Melbourne, though Atlantic is worth a visit for the experience.

Atlantic
Crown Entertainment Complex
8 Whiteman Street, Southbank VIC 3006

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