Peoplefood

Or, I Really Shouldn’t Have Worn a Dress with a Belt

What up? At the moment I’m sitting in front of the computer wearing bright pink penguin pajamas, having taken the day off because I’m coughing my lungs up every 5 minutes. It’s a great time to get stuff done though. So far today I have: answered some work emails (and was told off by my boss for being out of bed already), eaten muesli with yoghurt, read through several pages of I Am Maru, faffed about on Facebook, Twittered and went through my usual early morning anxiety. Now, I write.

Last month my good friends May and Cam organised a day out with a bunch of us, starting with mini golf in Narrabeen (I failed spectacularly), then degustation at Restaurant Balzac in Randwick. I’ve always wanted to try out Restaurant Balzac, and our timing was good – they had a special 11 course degustation menu that week to celebrate Bastille Day. It was priced at $110 and $180 with matching wines. I made a big show of umming and aahing about whether to get matching wines or not, but I really didn’t need any encouragement as I’m only one drink away from being an alcoholic.

We started off with my favourite meal in the entire universe – bread and butter. Seriously I can survive on good bread and butter for weeks on end.

First course: rillette of rabbit with pickled gherkins and crispy bread. My rabbit anecdote: I refused to eat rabbit meat when I was 9 because I had pet rabbits. Whenever my dad bought rabbit satays, he would tell me that they’re chicken. It didn’t help me get over the rabbit thing, but it did make me distrust him AND food for a while. It felt a bit weird eating the rillette as a result, but my dysfunctional childhood had no impact on the taste – it was good. The gherkins did their job of making everything just that little bit better.

Second course: truffle and artichoke veloute. Creamy, rich and truffle-y – like getting in a bath with Cleopatra, minus poisonous snakes.

Third course: Endive Tart Fine with Fresh Goat Curd, served with 2008 Shaky Bridge ‘Pioneer’ Gewurztraminer. The wine was the first of six glasses, which would prove to be my undoing. I enjoyed this immensely, but not quite enough for me to think of an analogy.

My unfinished wines from the third and fourth courses. I’m a goddamn lightweight but the last time I had too much white wine, I ended up in a strip club in Petersham so I had a reason to be careful around them. That second wine is a French 2007 Domaine Matassa ‘Nouge’ Muscat/Maccabeu/Viognier. Yes, I  just copied and pasted that from their online menu. It’s a very minerally wine that goes well with the scallop in the fourth course.

Fourth course: roast scallop with celeriac and caviar. I took this photo and was like, duh, the main component of the dish is the scallop – it should be turned the other way round you dumbarse. So here’s a closeup of the scallop to make me feel better:

This was pretty fucking amazing. The scallop was perfectly cooked and sweet, and the celeriac puree was out of this world tasty.

Fifth course: galantine of pheasant and guinea fowl with a mushroom salad. I liked the mushroom salad more than the galantine. The dish was slightly ruined for the SO because they forgot to take off the glad wrap casing around his slice of galantine. Our sommelier assured us that someone will be shot for it. The SO still complains about it now, I just pretend I can’t hear him. This was served with 2007 Passetoutgrain, Domaine Taupenot – Merme from Burgundy.

Sixth course: cassoulet of lamb shoulder with haricot beans and fried lamb sweetbreads, topped with breadcrumbs. I loved the medley of textures it, but the SO and May thought it was a bit bland. The wine for this one is 2005 Medoc, Domaine Lapalu ‘La Patache’ from Bordeaux, France. Started to get shitfaced around this time and stopped paying attention to the wine.

This was the highlight for almost everyone at the table. Seventh course: deboned oxtail ‘a la Bourguignonne’ topped with a slice of bone marrow, and veal tongue. The meat was melt in your mouth tender though I have to say I still feel a bit wrong when I eat veal. It’s like getting a Swedish massage by angels – strong and delicate all at the same time with a slight fear of God. Served with 2008 Poonawatta ‘The Four Corners’ Shiraz which the SO liked almost as much as he likes me.

Eighth course, but who’s counting? A cheese plate consisting of a truffled brie (brie infused with truffles) and roquefort. Sry2say that I’m a cheese philistine who can’t appreciate blue cheese, which the SO ate the most of. I absolutely loved the brie though.

Ninth course: a palate cleanser/pre dessert that I liked better than the dessert itself: apple jelly with Calvados sabayon.

Tenth course: ‘Iles Flotante’ – May said this means “floating island”. A little island of meringue in a bed of light vanilla brulee sauce, topped with crunchy praline. It’s quite light, which was a blessing because I was down to the last notch on my belt.

Just when I thought the food was never going to stop coming, we got to the eleventh course of petit fours and tea/coffee. We had vanilla macarons, truffles and madeleines. It was nice enough, but at this point I really just want to pass out and sleep for about two weeks. Not just because of the rich food, but because the degustation took five hours from start to finish. Not the restaurant’s fault obviously… an 11 course degustation was always going to be an epic affair.

Restaurant Balzac
141 Belmore Rd
Randwick NSW 2031
(02) 9399 9660

Holla, girlfriends and boyfriends!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I started a new job three months ago and it took over pretty much my entire life. I’ve avoided talking about it because I’m superstitious enough to believe that if I talk about my new job before my probation period is over, I’d get fired the next day for whatever reason. I’ve just passed my probation period so I get to say that I kind of like it. Well, it has its moments. Some of those moments even involve me not being stressed as fuck.

The downside of this craziness is that my digital camera has shitloads of photos just sitting there, congealing like yesterday’s oatmeal. I’ll get around to them eventually, but let’s start with my most recent adventure.

A few weeks ago the SO and I took off to Melbourne for a weekend away. It was a much needed break away from everything shitty in Sydney (including the weather, what the fuck Sydney?). It was a very indulgent weekend and I ate too much. I’m just going to jump straight into the food, because I can’t really say too much about the weekend without it being gross TMI. I’ll make do with lots of nudging and winking.

My visit to Melbourne is never complete without a trip to Koko Black. We had the Belgian Spoil, a selection of deliciousness that includes ice cream, chocolate mousse, two filled chocolates, shortbread and a cakey thing.

I also had the hot chocolate. You know what guys, I don’t know. I was slightly disappointed. The hot chocolate was way too sweet, the cake was dry and I didn’t like the chocolates they gave us (everything else was delicious). Maybe I’m just getting older and the taste buds can’t handle sweet things anymore. It’s only a matter of time before I hunch over, age a hundred years overnight and start wearing leopard print capri pants. Not gonna lie, I’m looking forward to my concession bus fares.

For dinner we went to Campari House on Hardware Lane. I randomly found the place through Twitter and thought that I’ll live dangerously and just try it out. Did my gamble pay off? Well.

Entree #1 – eggplant croquette with green chilli and mint relish. The croquettes weren’t hot enough (temperature wise) to taste like it was freshly fried. That’s a minor quibble though, can’t complain about the flavours – it was v delicious.

Entree #2 – cinnamon smoked duck breast with cauliflower puree, “baby onion rings” and curry vinaigrette. I’m the sort who gets terribly grossed out by undercooked poultry and this is the first rare duck I’ve tried that I liked. That said, I couldn’t taste the cinnamon.

The SO’s main – blue eye fillet with fennel and lemon puree, shaved potatoes, herb and citrus salad. Flavours worked well, fennel tasted gorgeous and the salad was zingy and zesty and made sweet music with the other bits on the plate. You’d think that after all of that the dish will be perfect, but no. Fish was overcooked and dry. Not the sort of overcooked that’s “oh it’s just a bit crispy on the end bits”. Just overcooked. Not impressed, guys.

My main, thankfully, was awesome. Spinach and ricotta gnocchi with pickled zucchini, roasted pepper puree and porcini cream. Pickled zucchini is genius and I want more of it in my life.

The star of the meal was surprisingly the side dish – broccolini with gorgonzola sauce. I want to marry this dish then eat it, like newlywed praying mantis..es. Mantii?

Dessert was cinnamon creme brulee with berry semifreddo, orange crostoli and chambord jelly. Didn’t like the crostoli, which had the texture of cold Maccas fries. Loved the brulee (had all the cinnamon flavour the duck didn’t) and jelly. The end.

I also wanted to get shitfaced and had several cocktails. This one came with edible flower:

The menu promised edible flowers (plural), which – while I was drunk – seemed like a really big deal. When I sobered up I realised that I was being a giant wanker and punched myself in the face. Or I would have, but I didn’t want to have to explain the black eye. I’m in enough trouble already because I kept joking to people that my SO keeps my passport so I have to stay home and wash the dishes for him (disclaimer: I have my own passport. The SO’s a very nice man who’s capable of washing his own dishes).

In summary: Food was kind of overpriced but tasted good except for the fish. Did I mention it was overcooked yet?

The next morning we went out, got lost and eventually ended up in Brunswick St., where we tried out Madame Sousou for the first time. I had the baked eggs with creamed spinach and gruyere which is basically made up of butter, cream and cheese – breakfast of champions. I figured that because the cafe made a big deal about being French and chic and everything, the baked egg dish will be more Audrey Tautou than Jean Reno in size.

Again, I was wrong. It was as big as your mom.

The SO had the big breakfast but felt sick halfway through his breakfast from all the butter. I finished my baked eggs. Obviously I am made of stronger stuff. Let’s not worry about the self loathing afterwards.

Here is a shout out to a couple more places in Melbourne I got to try out and loved:

Creperie Le Triskel on Hardware Lane. It was so good that I don’t think I can ever try another crepe place in Australia without being disappointed. I had a crepe with bechamel sauce, mushrooms and spinach. No photos because I was seated inside and felt kind of self conscious.

Tony Starr’s Kitten Club on Little Collins St. The last time I went here a couple years back it smelled like pee due to a malfunctioning bathroom. Now it just smells like a girls’ night out – a heady mixture of sweet alcohol and celebrity perfume. Despite all of that, the staff are absolutely lovely, the atmosphere great and I love the cocktail menu. Food wise, I’ve only been to the cocktail lounge so I can’t say much about the restaurant food, but SO reports that their tapas are brilliant.

I was lucky enough to score an invite to Chocolatesuze’s birthday party/blogger’s meetup a while back and meant to write something about it. Except my camera ran out of batteries after the first photo. Fuck. My. Life. Regardless, it was brill seeing familiar faces and some new ones. Hi guys, hope I didn’t freak you out too much. On that note… I haven’t had much time to read blogs lately but I’ve been very much enjoying The Creamy Middles when I do read it. Not just because Rachel has a mind blowingly awesome coat that I will covet forevermore.  As a personal shout out, I want to thank Rita, Grace and Cathy for putting up with my nonsense that evening as I got progressively tipsy.

Now I’m off to sleep and gird my loins for tomorrow, whatever that means.