Concrete blonde

I have been lured to The Cross on a Sunday for one very good reason; Sunday Roast and I have it on good authority that Concrete Blonde is the place to go.

This place is located on Bayswater road in the same complex as Hugo’s. There is a lovely canopied outdoor seating area, and lounge seats on which to enjoy a pre-dinner (or lunch) drink in the afternoon sun. I assume this place is named after the U.S. rock group of the same name, though the name has been interpreted literally in the interesting glass door to the toilet, which contains patterns and text made of concrete set in the glass. The fit-out feels expensive, but the tone of the restaurant is quite casual.

After the parents, Cueball and I settle into our seats, I spy the kitchen. It is open, and you can see the chefs flitting back and forth, that bit is pretty standard. But the wood-fire spit and free-standing circular grills sure aren’t! Unfortunately there isn’t anything on the spit today, but our waitress informs us that last night there was a special of spit-roasted suckling pig. If that isn’t the best combination of food related words I have heard in a while. Given that the pig understandably sold out last night I go for the grass-fed Tasmanian roast beef with all the traditional trimmings. Think buttery beans and carrots, Yorkshire pudding, potatoes and jus served alongside a thick cut of just-medium beef. Oh it is heaven, absolute heaven. Of course I managed to squeeze in an entrée first; ham hock terrine with sourdough toast, perfectly accompanied by a large glass of chardonnay (Canobolas-Smith, Orange 2006). Pinot noir (Explorer by Surveyor Thomson) with the beef, from Central Otago duh (seriously who isn’t on the Otago bandwagon yet?).

Though the beef leaves me absolutely stuffed I am completely suckered in by the warm lemon pudding with vanilla bean ice-cream. It is spongy on top, and gooey inside. Others on the table go for honeycomb parfait and a valrhona chocolate terrine with raspberries and chocolate soil. Parfait, well everybody loves parfait, and for those chocaholics out there the valrhona is everything you need and want.

For $48, the Sunday lunch menu on offer at Concrete Blonde is more than a bargain, I am so stuffed I actually walk home to avoid my stomach bursting. That roast beef is the best I have had at any restaurant, and if they have the suckling pig on again God help anyone who prevents me from getting a reservation!

 http://www.concreteblonderestaurant.com.au/

Hemmingway’s

Why must summer end? I have only been to the beach, erm…three times this summer. That is practically un-Australian! The Jet-Setter states that a visit to the beach for a dip followed by cocktails is in order, and I couldn’t agree more. The day selected turns out to be a real scorcher, perfect for a swim. However post 6 pm it turns cool very fast. After delicately inserting a toe into the surf and retracting it with a scream of ‘it’s cold!’ we skip the dip and go straight for the drinks.

Hemmingway’s has been our coffee and drinks haunt in Manly all summer; the Jet-Setter is a massive fan of the bearded wonder’s short stories. So an opportunity to try their dinner menu is an exciting prospect to both of us. The menus theme in the downstairs bar is presented as ‘school meals made adult and fun’ so there are things like chicken nuggets and chips and fish fingers. So what awaits us in the restaurant upstairs? Awkward staff members for one thing.

After being assured downstairs that there is space for two in the restaurant, we reach the top of the stairs to find two bemused floor staff without a spare table. After a really weird conversation in which I felt like we were speaking a different language to the waiters we decide to wait downstairs until there is a table available. Once we get a table upstairs and pursue the menu we opt for:

‘Peppers’; padron peppers, bacon, feta, currants

‘Gin and tonic’; poached salmon, gin jelly, cucumber puree, salmon roe

‘Kiev’; black garlic, sweet corn, chicken

‘Leaves’; rocket, parmesan, balsamic

The ‘peppers’ is not much special, essentially peppers covered in cheese. The portion is decent enough, though you do get the odd really hot one so choose carefully. ‘Gin and tonic’ is beautifully presented, the jelly is lovely and fragrant and the salmon is beautifully cooked. The one thing this dish really needs is salt to lift the flavours to the next level. By far the best dish is ‘Kiev’, the chicken is served in a lovely crispy, salty ball with smears of smoky black garlic and sweet corn that I end up wiping off the plate with my fingers.

In the end the meal was nice, but I have been to nicer restaurants for less. The restaurant feels a little grungy, when I was expecting a bit more of a colonial, manly (oooooh fun with puns) opulence. Having my meal presided over by a portrait of a shirtless Hemmingway is a tad odd, though not unpleasant. I’ll be back for the coffee and snacks downstairs.   

http://www.hemingwaysmanly.com.au/_.html

Menya Noodle Bar

Right; I love ramen. As in I have been to Japan twice mainly just to eat Ramen. When the weather in Australia turns cold I can’t help but get a little excited; it is ramen season!

I have been a loyal customer of Ramen Kan (Bondi and China Town http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/70/751830/restaurant/Sydney/Chinatown/Ramen-Kan-Haymarket) even since I stumbled across it on the way to a Prodigy concert in 2005. The train of thought went: concert, lots of dancing, need energy, ooooh carbs, mmmmm ramen. But tonight I feel like a change. The internet informs me that Menya Noodle Bar in China Town does a good noodle soup.  

The Socialite joins me in trying to find Menya. According to my phone it is just around the corner from the UTS library, but we loop around the block once without spotting it. Finally we realise it is on the ground floor of a tall, skinny complex full of restaurants. We push past all the hawkers for the scattering of Chinese restaurants surrounding Menya and gawk at the large menu of the wall for a while. All the different Ramen, noodles and rice dishes look and sound divine. I am tempted by the ramen with extra pork (ton-toro ramen) but I finally settle for teriyaki beef soba noodles. The socialite goes for the Ramen with Karage chicken (Tori kara-age ramen).

We find ourselves a spot at the long communal table running down the centre of the restaurant and watch the staff chat with two police officers. Looks like something ‘went down’ during the day. So dinner and show, brilliant. When the noodle soups arrive they are everything we want. The stocks are rich and meaty and all meat is cooked to perfection. Needless to say both are soon devoured. Looks like I now have two Ramen restaurants in which to practice my proper Japanese noodle slurping etiquette  

http://menya.com.au/

Montpellier Public House

29^th February 2012

Ever since Balzac in Randwick morphed into the more relaxed, approachable Montpellier Public House I have been desperate to go. I even work in Randwick. However, as always happens when you live right near something you keep putting it off thinking that you will always have time to go. Of course I never managed to do so. So how to force me to actually plant my bum on a seat in Montpellier? Ooooooh voucher! Eleven dishes for two people for $69? I’m in!

Mum and Dad join Cueball and I on a hideously rainy night, the kind where you want to watch Chocolat and make pained noises every time the do something with chocolate. The Façade of Montpellier has changed very little since it was built in 1859, being a heritage listed building that once held ‘The Star and Garter Inn’ and subsequently a school for girls (Hmmmmm). Most recently the venue was Restaurant Balzac (yes, go ahead have a laugh), a modern French/British fine-diner headed by Matt Kemp. Kemp closed Balzac early 2011, recognising the shifting mood in Sydney’s dining scene towards more relaxed, affordable offerings and re-opened as Montpellier mid 2011. Montpellier is touted as a ‘gastro-pub’ with a weekly Sunday roast. There is even a supper menu from 10pm-11:30pm for late-night snackers.

The downstairs dining room is a casual wood and sandstone affair, with big windows taking up most of the wall space. Upstairs is a bit more fine-dining, with mood lighting and tables snuggled into cosy nooks. The voucher menu we are offered provides us with a six-dish tasting plate, a choice of main dish each, and a selection of four small desserts as well as a complimentary bottle of sparkling wine per couple. The entrees consist of pea and ham soup, fresh oyster with red wine shallot vinegar, red cabbage salad, escargot, onion tart with goat feta and crumbed lambs brains with tartare. The pea and ham soup is among the best I have tasted and the onion tart is caramelised goodness. I have never tried lambs brain before, and these beautifully golden little nuggets are the perfect introduction. The golden crust gives way to a creamy-textured rich flesh that is cut through with the astringent citrus in the tartare. They are worth trying!

For main I opt for a parmesan-crusted leather-jacket with ratatouille. The fish comes whole, and I’m sorry but people who say they ‘don’t like their food looking at them’ need to go to Bunnings to purchase a spine. Keeping meat on the bone retains flavour and moisture, and this yellow jacket is beautiful. The crust is salty, the meat sweet and the ratatouille flavoursome. Cueball opts for the pumpkin and mushroom risotto which despite being a bit on the small side for a main is delightfully al-dente and packs a flavour-punch. The only disappointing main is the lamb cassoulet. While the look of the dish has all the right things; the clay pot, the toasted breadcrumbs, it is quite sweet and after several mouthfuls tastes a bit like Heinz baked-beans. Shame man.

It takes the waitress quite a while to clear our main plates, she seems more pre-occupied with clearing and resetting the empty tables in the restaurant. It being 9:30 pm on a Wednesday we are one of the few tables left, so she isn’t exactly run off her feet. Only after catching her eye do we succeed in having the plates removed. Dessert is another selection of smalls; peach sorbet, panna cotta, Eton mess, and roasted figs in Amaretto syrup with vanilla ice-cream. The panna cotta has a perfect just-set texture, the Eton mess (a meringue, cream and strawberry smash) is summer in a glass. The figs are rich and sweet with the ice-cream cutting through all the sugar. The peach is interesting as it is a flavour I’m not used to; delicious none-the-less.

The re-invented restaurant certainly has the right food and atmosphere marketed as a nice local place to go any night of the week for good food and drink. I know I’ll be back, though I can’t cheat with a voucher next time can I? There is just so much more on the menu I want to try!

Footnote: The parentals recently re-visited Montpellier, who graciously allowed them to use a voucher a couple of days out of date. They said the service was impeccable and the food was even better than the first time; with no cassoulet in sight. Sounds like we were there on a rare night where mistakes happened.

http://www.montpellierpublichouse.com.au

York Lane

You know, it is really hard to try to cut down drinking during the week when there are so many awesome little bars popping up around Sydney. I could go on a non-school night, but weekends see these little bars become buzzing hunks of human limbs, and sometimes you just aren’t in the mood the shout at someone over a ‘relaxing’ drink.

Now I am terrible at catching up with people, and York Lane offers the perfect opportunity to catch up with an ex-housemate/colleague; The Socialite. Both of us used to work at a hotel around the corner from this place, and when I first read the address I am a little dubious. The little alleyway this bar nestles in is framed by a stripclub (or brothel, who knows?) and a selection of homeless men. I used to always walk a little quicker past this alley late at night. Creepy-town.

As we approach the alley The Socialite thinks I am taking her to the stripclub. Maybe some other time kitten. Instead I lead her a little further down, past the boob-club and the homeless men, to a tiled, little hole in the wall. Obligatory milk carts are scattered at the entrance, chipboard, moody-coloured tiles and chalk boards take up the wall space. As you walk into the sunken space, which has a single-table mezzanine, you are greeted by a bar/kitchen down the left side and the scattering of tables, chairs and stools at the end of the cosy space.

After being greeted warmly, The Socialite and I sit in the middle of the room with a good view of the bar and kitchen. The menu and drinks list is written on scraps of cardboard. The menu is small nibble plates and a short selection of about 10 wines, a few beers, cider and spirits, including a concktail special. The only issue with the wine list is they fail to list the wine region. I’m sorry, but I’m a cool climate wine lover (SNOB!), I need to know where they are from. Upon asking at the bar, the lovely man behind the bar doesn’t seem sure where the wine is from either, but a quick read of the label and we all learn something today (turns out their pinot is for the Yarra, tasty!).

To nibble we order the belly pork with chilli jam, antipasto plate and duck pancakes. The fat on the pork is beautifully rendered down, leaving the pork tender and juicy. Dipping a chunk of this into the chilli jam; heaven. The antipasto plate contains lovely fresh cured meats, olives, cornichons and some feta, though it was a little light on the meat side for the price tag of $22. Still nice though. The duck pancakes contain flavoursome pieces of duck with crisp spring onion, but are unfortunately served in a burrito tortilla. The tortilla is far too thick and heavy for the filling, leaving you with a chink of leftover bread at the end.

All in all a nice place to have a drink and a light nibble; emphasis on the drink. You certainly don’t want to try to fill an empty stomach here (then again I am a walking stomach so you waifish types might do fine). I will be back for more pinot.     

http://www.facebook.com/pages/York-Lane/188585934513171

Maya da Dhaba

Friday, bumming around the lab, when Running Buddy comes up with a dangerously good idea; skip the run, hit up a bar and restaurant instead. Oh Running Buddy, you delightful cad you!

Given Running Buddy’s expertise in Indian cuisine, I leave the choice of eatery in his hands. Maya da dhaba on Cleveland street it is. Leggy Blonde joins us (I mean seriously, how was it that you were blessed with those things? Freaking jealous). After whetting our whistles with a cider at Bar Cleveland, where we were offered free canapés (happy hour has canapés people, get on it!) we meander down to the restaurant.

The restaurant is a converted Victorian townhouse and many of the original features, including the fireplaces, awnings and a decorated plaster ceiling, have been kept. White table cloths and warm colours make the restaurant feel intimate, but not over-the-top-wow-you-are-in-India-now. Waiters are in crisp white shirts and we are quickly seated at a nice table near the window. Given we are early the restaurant is quiet, with a few other families dining. After 8 pm though this restaurant kicks off big time with the noise level taking a similar upswing to rambunctious (oh la la).

Entrée:

Kaju Kebab. Seasoned pureed potato, mixed with paneer (cottage cheese to the uninitiated), coated with crushed cashew nuts and served crisp.

We tried to order three of these (the menu doesn’t specify how many per portion), upon which we were snootily informed by what I assume is the maitre’d that there are four pieces per portion. We are fine with that. Clearly he thought it was going to be an issue. Yeah. Weird.

These little nuggets are tasty, like a cheesy potato nugget, but the generous cashew crust slightly overpowers anything else going on in there. Shame.

Mains:

Punjabi Baingan. Baby eggplant pan fried and cooked with onions, tomato and chillies, then finished with coriander.

Nazuk Kofta. Croquettes of cottage cheese, potato, cashew nuts and spices, simmered in a sauce of crushed tomatoes, almond meal and cream sauce.

Paneer Ka Salan. Strips of paneer sautéed with capsicum, onions, spices and finished with fresh tomato and coriander.

Rice and naan.

Our waitress takes our order without a docket book, which is great for eye contact if you can remember the order. She can’t. We don’t get our Nazuk Kofta, instead we get, ummmm something? It is a paneer dish with beans in it. It is tasty. Same goes for the Paneer Ka Salan. However the real standout is the Punjabi Baingan. The potatoes are mega tasty and covered in mooshy eggplant. Tasty!

Everything is pretty quickly devoured. Helped along by Kingfisher beer. Then it is out into the night for, well I’m a bit boring, so sleep.  

http://www.mayadhaba.com.au/

Pilu at Freshwater

Ah those few lazy days between Christmas and New Years. Normally days spent wandering between cafes and the beach. But given Sydney's poor attempt at sunshine this year, my bum has seen very little sand. Instead I was invited by The Jet-Setter to ‘look at’ some sand, from Pilu at Freshwater.

Who hasn’t wandered past this gorgeous weatherboard house, wrapped around with a glass-enclosed balcony and thought ‘I really have to go there for lunch sometime’? Equally how many of us have actually made the time to go? Well I finally made it.

This whole building breathes the  beach. Weatherboard, blue and white, big windows, simple table settings and friendly relaxed staff. Of course given that we booked only a day ahead we don’t get one of the coveted tables out on the veranda. However it is of little matter. Just about every table in this restaurant has a lovely view of Freshwater beach. We settle in, quickly select a bottle of Tassie Pinot Noir and order from the Sardinian influenced menu. The Jet-Setter opts for mint fettuccine with lamb ragu for entrée and the seafood tomato soup for main. For an entrée the pasta dish is a large size. I’m glad I don’t have to face that down before another course! That said, the pasta is quickly devoured (with a few ‘mmmmmmm’s’ in there) by The Jet-Setter, who shows massive restraint in not eating the whole thing to save room for the course to come. I can never do that! Or so I thought…

My entrée is the salt baked NZ King salmon with saffron kipfler potatoes, baby leeks and beetroot puree. Again the size of the entrée is massive. It is a lovely no-fuss dish that allows the basic flavours of each component to shine in their own right. The potatoes are delicately floral with saffron, the leeks add crunch and beetroot rounds off the dish with earthy undertones. And, yeah, couldn’t finish it! Couldn’t risk not being able to fit my saddle of lamb with slow cooked lamb-belly, date jam and eschallots in! Gimme, gimme, gimme!

That said, the lamb is a little more cooked than I like it (the bloodier the better really) and it is not the most tender piece of lamb I have had, but the flavours are spot-on; homey, sweet, savoury, meaty. I heart. The Jet-Setter’s tomato soup is presented with a bib, and upon dramatic lifting of the cloche I can see why. Do not, for the love of God, wear white if you plan to order this dish. You deserve to look like you have been attacked by a four year old during art-and-craft time if you do! So bib donned, The Jet-Setter sets about devouring the generous heapings of seafood clamouring for space in the bowl. Octopus, mussels, fish, bugs, it’s all there. Good thing she didn’t eat all her entree.

With all these massive portions dessert isn’t really an option. But affogatos certainly are! When our lovely waitress informs us that they are out of vanilla ice-cream (a prospect she seems very upset by) she proposes the supplementation of some Italian fruit-and-nut ice cream thing which I cannot for the life of me remember the name of (any Italian readers out there? Oh and please don’t hate me for not knowing!). It works beautifully with the coffee, and I leave the restaurant full, buzzing and desperate for a swim. After that meal however I dare not expose the world to my bloated stomach. No need to thank me.

 http://www.piluatfreshwater.com.au/