Adriano Zumbo

Ah Zumbo.

Dessert darling of Sydney. The kids want to be you, the mums swoon for your macarons and the foodies queue every morning for your sweet treats.

I admire your daring approach to mixing flavours (coconut, green chilli and mango?) that manage to work despite misgivings but I feel that your celebrity has almost detracted from what you actually do.

Let me explain. I went to visit your shop in The Star. The set -up is reminiscent of a cartoon wonderland crossed with Ivy pool (the AstroTurf mainly). Trays of macarons line the cut-away kitchen, staff frantically piping the filling and delicately placing the two halves together. Large plastic bubbles float in the floor to ceiling windows containing delightful-looking treats. It is exciting to be sure. But sterile.

This vibe is not helped by the fact that you cannot enter the store without having a staff member invite you in, escort you round, and scribble down an order that I have no doubt some people feel pressured into placing. I only found this out when I was asked to leave the store and join the (non-existent, non-signposted) queue outside. So browsing is not allowed? Or the staff aren't capable of keeping enough of an eye out to notice when a browser becomes a buyer?

Well I left. Haven't been back in fact. I did have a squiz at the desert sushi train when it opened. I didn't see anything particularly fantastic going around. I believe the minimum price for any of the desert plates was $8.50. Quite steep when the plate size was definitely reminiscent of sushi-train sizes. My advice, don't try so hard. 

http://www.star.com.au/dine/the-chefs/adriano-zumbo.html

Kurtosh

Work function. Phone went off in the middle of speeches. Shit.

Now I need cake. And coffee.

I have my parents meet me near 'The Spot' in Randwick. I love this little segment of the Eastern suburbs. A great hub for people to eat and drink well into the night (any night) whether it be savoury or sweet, caffeinated or not. A recent addition to The Spot is 'Kurtosh', a patisserie that specialises in a Hungarian 'chimney-cake' pastry from which the shop derives its name. This place is contstanly wafting about the tantalising smell of baked treats, meaning that buying a bus ticket from the nearby newsagents inevitably finds me at the counter ogling the cakes on display.

The delectable Kurtosh are made by wrapping dough around a large, rolling-pin like structure and are baked to order in a specially designed counter-top oven. 'What is better than freshly baked pastry?' I hear you ask. 'Adding your own topping!' I cry. There is sugar and cinnamon, pistachio, flaky chocolate and coconut. Of course we order one. It is brought to the table warm and cut up. The dough is reminiscent of a compressed croissant pastry. It is buttery, with the right amount of pull. Utterly satisfying.

To complement the kurtosh we order a strawberry-cream sponge and the gluten-free chocolate cake. The cakes here are made in large slabs from which you order by weight. 100 grams is a good 'regular slice' size but if you are hungry go nuts! The sponge is light, the cream delicately sweetened, and the strawberries - well you know, as they normally are, GREAT. The gluten free chocolate cake is a dense, moist thing. It is almost as though they have stuck two separate cakes together with rich chocolate ganache. This ganache is no sugary, whipped, pulled and processed thing. This ganache is one of those chocolate and cream, nothing else affairs. Love. Both are rapidly devoured.

Also on offer is a selection of traditional French pastries, in mini! Palmiers, pain au chocolate and little ricotta parcels. You can order three and still technically have only eaten one! Much like those giant wine glasses that fit the best part of a bottle......oh said too much.

Kurtosh is a venture co-orchestrated by Jean-Marc Masset whose formerly successful venture in Pyrmont, Jean-Marc Patisserie was famous for its crème brulee bombs. A great deal of time was spent perfecting the recipes used in Kurtosh, taking a year to get everything just so. An equal amount of time went into the decor with low, roughly hewn wooden stools, massive 1940's style cake counters running the length of the space, antique tiles and gleaming white/grey marble counters.

Further adding to this prefect gourmand hideaway is coffee by Mecca, expertly made. I am normally a one-coffee a day person, mainly for the sanity of those around me, but I end up having two. So worth it. The Barista is always happy to have a chat, particularly about his main passion, coffee! He can recommend quite a few hot spots for coffee in Europe, taking the pain out of hunting for decent coffee when abroad.

And work near this place! My life just got a little better than yours.

http://www.eatability.com.au/au/sydney/kurtosh-cafe/

Est.

Dad's 50th. His restaurant of choice? Est.

Nicely done.

The best part? Half day Friday, with the afternoon spent enjoying too much wine in a sun-flooded, column skirted room spying big deals being made over expensive lunches.

Birthday boy and Mum are joined by my partner ('Cueball' if you remember) and 'Ms. Issey'. I am running late and find all four getting into G&T's to while away time. I settle back into my luscious armchair and get to work making the tough decision of what to have. Est. certainly doesn't make it easy.

In the end I go for the freshly shucked oysters with ponzu dressing (if you haven't ever tried ponzu, DO IT!) Don't whinge at me for choosing something 'easy', oysters and ponzu is a pairing not seen since chocolate and peanuts. The briny, slippery oysters drizzled with a touch of sweet/salty umame goodness. Oh how I have missed thee.

Cueball goes for salad of spanner crab, cucumber, lime, apple jelly and elderflower ajo bianco. Ms. Issey, the Italian buffalo mozzarella, shaved fennel, artichokes, iberico jamon, broad beans and violets. Birthday Boy and Mum plumb for grilled prawns, snap peas, shaved heirloom carrots, radish, iberico jamon broth. The prawns are so large I doubt you could fit more than four on a plate, and the flesh is the just-cooked through perfection required for such delicate flesh. The shaved carrots and snap peas are a lovely crunchy compliment to the softness of the dish. This dish tingles on the palette and whets the appetite for the rest of the meal.

One of the most fantastic things about dining at Est. is the staff. They flit elegantly around the room. Never rushed, but always swift. You remain almost unaware of their presence until, unbidden, glasses are refilled and napkins are folded in your absence. When the time comes a brigade of wait staff glide to your table, each depositing your dish and quietly offering an explanation of the treats that await your tastebuds. The theatre of it all is wonderful.

Wine? Oh yes, how could I forget?  Pinot Grigio Mt Difficulty, Central Otago, NZ, 2010. Followed by two bottles of their Pinot Noir (the '09 version). As I said in an earlier post, get into the Central Otago stuff. It be good.

Mains: pan roasted lamb rib eye, nettle puree, roasted shallots, zuchini, crisp polenta, black garlic vinaigrette. The lamb is the perfect red/pink blush right through, so much so I believed it to be sous-vide. The nettle puree on its own reminds me faintly of spirulina, but when combined with the rest of the dish it gives the lamb a delicately earthy fragrance that is beautifully contrasted with the rich crunch of the polenta chips. All this is rounded out with sweet, roasted shallots. Needless to say the plate goes back clean. The rest of the table orders the honey glazed duck breast, carrot puree, salsify, duck breast jamon, chicory and star anise in addition to crisp king whiting fillet, grilled scallops, jerusalem artichoke puree, white soy and bonito emulsion.

Rest. Breathe. Souffle.

Blood orange souffle.

I don't even need to explain how good it is.

I also snaffle a bite of vanilla cheesecake, apple puree, walnut biscuit, green apple-celery sorbet. Now I am not a massive fan a cheesecake, generally it is a stodgy thing. At Est. the cheesecake is transformed to a light, delicately flavoured dream with the right amount of sweetness to round off a meal. And the sorbet! The celery balances the sweet apple flavours with a crisp, fresh, greeness. Give me some vodka over that sorbet and I have a new favorite drink. But vodka not being appropriate (i.e. if I drink more I may end up under the table) I sip at some Frogmore Creek iced reisling, 2008 from Southern Tasmania. I love Inniskillin Reilsing icewine from Canada, but needing a cheaper alternative today the Frogmore fits the bill (see what I did there?). It is sweet, but not sickly. Instead it glides accross the palate coating the inside of your mouth with lovely floral, honey notes.

At the end of the meal we all lean back and sigh. I don't want it to be over, but I doubt I could manage any more. A truly excellent meal means you don't care what the number at the end of the bill is. And I don't. Est. is still number one.

El Loco (Excelsior)

Off to Belvoir theatre and in need of a nice drop and some food.

Given that Frank Moreau (of Merivale group) always chooses good wine I head to one of the most recent venues acquired by Merivale, the Excelsior, now El Taco. Given it is a marginally warm Friday evening in September with the Manly Sea Eagles vs the Broncos up the road at Moore Park, the place is heaving. Locals, trendies and corporates squish into the old pub that has been left mostly as-is, garnished with little bits of Mexican stereotypes (think sombreros, skulls and things with moustaches).

The restaurant (really just an extension of the bar with food, based on the crowds and noise level) is bright and spacious with plenty of places to park your bum (when empty) and eat some re-interpreted Mexican food. If it isn't a school night there is a selection of three margaritas for $13.50 to choose from and a long list a Tequilas to get stuck into.

I meet The Teacher and Ms. N (formerly The Norwegian) and we get a bottle of 2010 Mt Difficulty 'Roaring Meg' from Central Otago NZ. Margheritas are a great love of mine, but I feel that if one is going to the theatre one must stay away from away from hard spirits. Margheritas next time, I promise. Anyway I'm still swept up in the Central Otago craze over here. We manage to grab the end of one of the long benches outside on the footpath, a perfect spot to watch the comings and goings of people. Halfway through the wine some nachos with guacamole and salsa are ordered. The corn chips have satisfying crunch, and the guacamole is among the best I have tried. Lots of sour cream in that one. The salsa is sharp and fresh, but a tad difficult to get to stay on the corn chip!

Deciding that isn't enough we order two tacos: "Carne Asada"; lemongrass, beef, salsa verde and "Al Pastor"; spit-roaster pork, pineapple salsa, the Excelsior hotdog and an Al Pastor Pork Torta Sandwich. I hardly make it back to the table with a second round of drinks before the food is dropped at the table. Both of the tacos contain crispy, tender morsels of meat on a bed of freshly grated lettuce and sweet/tangy salsa. They are a lovely, light snack full of zest. The hotdog is piled high with cheese, we actually sell the first one to a Manly Eagles fan running late to the match! The second looks and tastes (we assume) just as good. The Frankfurt is not your Woolworth's standard. Oh no. This baby be gourmet. The pork sandwich is filled with the same little gems of pork found in the taco, on a soft white bun accompanied by mayonnaise, corriander, cabbage and spring onion. It is everything you want it to be, best-margherita soaker-upper (I presume and intend to test).

Given the quick service we have enough time for another round of drinks before we head off to the theatre. Good thing there wasn't time for a 4th round though. There was some unanticipated nudity, and I may have laughed had I done another glass of wine.
 
http://www.elloco.com.au/

Bar H

I have wanted to try Bar H since my sister (The Chef) helped a colleague put on a special dinner event here. But it is one of those places that kept getting pushed aside. It wasn't until a friend, whom I shall call the Jet-setter (super-secret code name) landed back in Oz and suggested it that I finally managed to drag myself in.

Bar H is just a short walk from central, sitting halfway up a street that after the usual 9-5 seems completely closed bar another little eatery on the adjacent corner that looks quite cute. All that marks the restaurant is a large H. Stepping over the threshold you forget you are in Sydney. Everything is dark, brooding colours broken up with warm woods and intricate graffiti art. On the left there are floor to ceiling windows lined by a banquette, a scattering of tables and wine bottles covering the wall. On the right is the open kitchen and a bar at which to perch and watch the goings-on. My partner (lets call him Cueball) has diligently selected a spot in the booths overlooking the kitchen.

As soon as I plop myself down I am offered the happy hour drinks menu (6-7pm, Tues-Fri); beer $5, wine $5.50, cocktails $10. I opt for a Gin Chi which is described as 'a zesty, tart, fresh little number', prescribed for a tough day that has left you 'out of whack'. It is just what I need after getting bogged down in journal articles at work. The staff are incredibly on the ball. Whenever a glass is empty (alcoholic or otherwise) it is topped up. It is relaxing to know that if we decided we wanted something urgently (wine, food, anti-venom) assistance was at hand. In fact this joint is the perfect place to catch up with friends you have not seen in a while, because nothing required much thought or effort. The wine list is a fantastic mix of local, French and Italian wines ranging from $45-$110. As the Jet-setter persues the list she insists we support the local wine-makers. I couldn't agree more, they do a bang-up job. To drink the boys go for Tiger beer, the ladies go for Ocean Eight Pinot Gris 2010, Mornington Perninsula.

When Mr. Muscles rocks up we quickly list the items we want. A plate of mixed moonlight en suface (beautiful little gems) and Claire de Lune oysters, steamed pork wontons, sashimi of black kingfish, and braised beef short rib to start. The wontons come sitting in a pool of beautiful spicy/sweet broth that tempts all of us to lift the bowl and slurp it up. We refrain. The sashimi of black kingfish is cut thinly and dressed in a tart, citrus dressing cut through with meaty shitake mushrooms. The beef shin is oh-so-tender, and the addition of peppery sesame leaves is something I haven't seen before. Love.The dishes come out one at a time due to space constraints at the table, but if you politely ask for two of the dishes at the same time the kitchen and floor staff are more than happy to oblige.

For mains we go; caramelised pork belly with fennel and mint, which is oh-my-god-so-good-want-more-so-fat-no (pork belly is my death row meal) and steamed jemfish. The flavours of the steamed jemfish are beautiful but the fish is served as a steak cut not a fillet. I have no problems with bones in fish (or heads and tails on fish) and I want to stab people with a fork who whinge and whine if they find a single bone. It is fresh fish, there may be bones. If you want a guarantee of no bones, go eat the processed muck. The only issue I have in this context is that given the atmospheric lighting of the restaurant it is hard to make sure you have removed all the bones before you take a gobfull.

Despite the fact that I am pretty full I can't pass up dessert of ginger custard. It is refreshing and light, the lime syrup adding the bit of sweetness needed to compliment the almost savoury custard. The jet-setter goes for sticky rice and red bean doughnuts which are all crispy and sugary goodness served with star anise ice cream which has a subtle smoky flavour rather than HI I'M LICORICE flavour (and I hate both star anise and licorice). Mr. Muscles opted for in-house made sorbet which had perfect texture and flavour.

I suppose the only problem of share dining is when there is that last skerric left everyone is too polite to just eat the goddamn thing. The other problem is it is so tasty that YOU want the last bit, but you feel bound by that crap called social protocol. That's the mark of a good meal. For the amount of food we ate, the quantity of beverages consumed and the top service we received the $70 price tag is spot-on. I'm keen to go back.

http://www.barhsurryhills.com/

Ms G's

I rarely venture anywhere near The Cross.

Potts Point tends to get the same treatment by association. I realise it is becoming funkified and Time Out magazine regularly wets their panties over the latest brunch spot, but I can't convince myself that I am not smelling the remnants of the most recent Saturday night.

Ms G's however has a certain kind of magic that keeps luring me back. Sure it is full of young, hip, stylish creatures, and on Friday/Saturday nights it can be noisy and jostling, but the food. Oh the food.

Boozy Sunday lunch is one of my favourite pastimes. Especially when it is sunny. So an invitation to join a teacher and a Norwegian at Ms G's to partake of this weekly ritual could not be passed up. We were greeted with a bar/restaurant fit-out that has a feel of someone living inside some kind of grand wooden crate decorated with odd nick-naks picked up at garage sales. The restaurant is spread over three levels, with the top floor being dedicated to one (of two) bar. The entire back wall is a bay window that overlooks a small, very leafy garden and allows the light from the afternoon sun to come pouring in. The staff are dressed casually and are very helpful and attentive. The overall feel of the place is relaxed. You do not feel you have to act a certain way, or dress specially. Just what you want on a Sunday.

There are booths, separate tables, and one long communal table that has an amazing view of the bridge and city. We opt to sit on the lower ground floor. Close to the kitchen and near the windows. It is quieter than I expected. There are only four or five other tables in the restaurant as we take our seats. We opt to go for a bottle of Pinot Gris from Central Otago, New Zealand rather than cocktails. The wine list has a lovely selection with the majority being Australian and New Zealand ranging from $40-$90. There is a smattering of European wines for added interest.

Browsing through the menu I want to order everything. It all sounds lip-smackingly good. I need to be roped in by The Teacher to stop me ordering too much. The staff are very helpful in suggesting both the chef and customer favourites. So in the end we plumb for mini báhn mì with pork belly, Ms G's grilled corn on the cob with parmesan and Vietnamese steak tartare to start.

The báhn mì/sliders/mini burgers are tasty. The pork is tender and has a nice slash of crackling across the top. The corn on the cob is quite simply THE BEST CORN I HAVE EVER EATEN. Capitalisation necessary. The half cobs come coated with the prefect amount of peri peri (harissa perhaps?) mayo-creamy goodness, stacked sky high with finely grated parmesan. There is so much parmesan and it is so lightly coloured that I at first thought it was coconut (hmmmm too much wine at this point?). Use your fingers to scoop the fantastic left-overs of parmesan and sauce that others leave behind on the plate. Disgusted looks may follow. Ignore them.

I thought that was it. Ms G's had peaked. How wrong I was.

The steak tartare is closely modelled on the traditional french version. The classic involves a perfect steak diced to a fine mice, combined with vegetables, herbs and condiments, then served with a raw egg yolk and some form of crouton/baguette.  Ms G's have kept the steak and the egg but added fish sauce, chilli, coriander, fried shallots and, joy of joys, prawn crackers in place of bread. You know the prawn crackers  you get at the local chinese? Yeah, now you're with me. The combination of the sweet, tangy, spicy flavours with the cooling, fresh texture of the steak is perfection. It is at present my favourite dish. I dream about it. I go to other restaurants and wish it were on the menu. I ordered a second plate of it as soon as I took my first bite.

That accompanied Jow's sweet and sour lamb ribs and braised wagyu beef shin 'Pho style'. The lamb is sticky, limey goodness. And given the presentation you are allowed to use your hands and hoik into it. The beef shin is so tender it falls apart as you look at it. It comes piled high with a variety of fresh, leafy herbs that add a delightful crunch to this dish. The Pho broth is warming, and the flavour lingers on the palate. You can't help going back for more and more, social protocol be damned.

Sitting back and assessing the damage I realise I have made a rookie error; I didn't leave space for desert! I stare dejectedly at the 'Stoner's Delight', on the next table over. A combination of doughnut ice cream, chocolate rice bubble, pretzel, peanut brittle and marshmallow it looks fantastifilicious (new word). But dear readers, I am dedicated to the cause. I had 'glee' written all over my face when this dessert was dropped off at our table. This dessert has everything. The peanut brittle and pretzel are mixed together with molten caramel. The choc-rice crispies take me back to my childhood and the light, citrus marshmallows cut through the richness. It is a beauty of a desert. No pretence, just everything you love about junk-food movie nights on a plate (but a bit fancy).

I wander home to pass out on the couch, full as a goog. I escaped paying only $70 (including tip) and can't wait to go back again.

http://www.merivale.com/#/msgs/msgs