The Lunch Lady, The Crickets

I wake up famished after a relatively light night of eating and drinking and excited for our planned trip to the bottom of District 1 where we should be able to get our first banh mi of the trip. Being a breakfast dish not too popular at this end of town, it's been difficult to find. We're heading to one that is well regarded and reputed to be run by a family of transvestites, which is the sort of tourist attraction I like to see when I'm on holidays. Monuments be gone.

But things aren't looking good. The six of us are split between two rooms at the hotel and the other room is in a poor condition to say the least. They're 30 minutes late to our planned meeting time due to various digestive issues, putting everyone in a fairly pensive, cautious mood.

That isn't helped when we arrive to the banh mi place and find that it's closed for the day. Back into “where are the locals eating?” mode and we find ourselves at some sort of rice place with fried and braised meats. It's not too great and it causes a fissure in the group, with the sick and cautious almost instantly deciding to head back to the hotel to rest for the day.

Only two of us remain and after a quick stroll I decide to go and check out the Lunch Lady that was made famous by the show No Reservations for her one soup a day menu. We eventually find her down a side street, conducting a soupy opera from behind her cart, thanks to the show, which now serves dozens of tables at a time. It's also the site of one of the largest populations of whiteys in Saigon.

You sit down and if you're a said whitey they'll also hook you up with some spring rolls and fried cakes from neighbouring stores. You can wave them off it you want, but for like 50c there isn't much point. Saturday is usually banh cahn day. Crab broth, crab “udon”, prawns, pork, quail eggs and some sausagey things. The broth is loaded with flavour, complex and rich but not over the top. All of the ingredients perfectly cooked. There might be better soup places in the city, but this is a good stop.

We head back to the hotel to check on the patients and the scene isn't good. Their hotel room is like an opium den that has had all opium removed to make room for dead bodies. The lights are off and the curtains drawn further closed than seemed physically possible; the air con is off and the windows aren't open so the air is hot and stale; they groan at the sight of light when we enter, with different levels of enthusiasm. It's going to be just the two of us for dinner too.

Tired from the day--and on a caffeine/sugar crash after our delicious Vietnamese coffees--we aren't feeling like doing much at all, so we head to a well regarded local BBQ place for dinner called Luong Son Qun. It's kind of a Korean BBQ joint that has most animals on the menu. We grab the beef and ostrich that you cook yourself on the charcoal grill on the table, some crunchy fried crickets (kind of like popcorn with legs; fried scorpion next time) and a couple of other things. With some cold Tiger Crystal beers on the side it's a pretty killer meal. Not cheap by Viet standards but significantly cheaper than the Sydney equivalent.

Back at the hotel everyone is still close to death. I crack some beers that I got from a convenience store because I hadn't seen before. They're pretty horrible. The other one not sick is starting to fade with every new beer I crack. What condition will he be in tomorrow morning? What condition will everyone else be in tomorrow? Saigon, you are a cruel mistress.

Lost in the Flow

We're still buzzing from the night before, where the gates to Saigon food was finally opened to us, and decide to start things off with a quick bowl of pho at a place a couple of doors down from the hotel that always has a pretty steady clientele. The broth is weaker (perhaps because we hit it just after the morning rush) so it's not as good as Pho Hoa from the day before, but it's solid enough and we're relieved that we have a pho option nearby when we feel like kicking off the day.

One of the extremely frustrating things here is that, while food is quite plentiful and there is no shortage of places to eat nearby, we have to play it fairly smart and avoid a lot of them because of their questionable hygiene. And with restaurants here usually only specialising in one dish and people generally eating certain dishes at certain times, you need to time your meals. Everywhere else I've been on holiday it's been easy to find tasty food at all hours. But here it's actually really hard to find a place that satisfies all the criterion of a) clean(ish), b) open, c) selling food that's identifiable and d) serves something you want. In the mood for something good and fried at night? Going to be walking a LONG way. Want to get something quick to takeaway and eat at the hotel room while chilling out? Good luck finding that.

As a result of that and all the walking, I think I'm actually losing weight.

And that's a strange holiday experience. The foreign takeaway places are starting to look tempting to fill in the gaps. It goes against everything I've stood for in trips so far, but maybe I can convince myself it's okay if I head for an Asian outlet like Lotteria.


For lunch we head to a touristy restaurant in the middle of District 1 that has a bunch of stalls, all specialising in a couple of dishes that you would find around Vietnam. You order off a combined menu and they go to the various stalls and get the food.

Banh xeo is a dish I was pretty keen to try over here so that was a must order. It's a crepe stuffed with prawn, chicken and a few other things, named for the sizzling sound of the batter. Super tasty.

Banh beo is another one. Steamed rice flour cakes topped with dried prawns.

You're paying a lot more at this place than on the street, but it's convenient and comfortable so a nice change of pace from sitting on small stools and plastic chairs.


Dinner time sends us towards a pork and vermicelli place at the western end of District 1 that came well recommended. Though we get there and it's closed, so we have to again look for places that seem a) clean(ish), b) have good looking food, and c) look popular with locals. Thankfully we're close to the Tan Dinh market which has some stalls open at night, many selling the typical Saigon dish of broken rice (com tam). We end up and one and order it with a variety of porky goodness. Fermented sausage is a highlight and has me regretting my pork chop. Sugar cane juice (nuoc mia) on the side gives the dish a super tasty sweet/savoury balance and all up it's only $2. We walk around a bit more, thinking we might get more food, but nothing satisfies the requirements.

We eventually end up at Hoa Vien Brauhaus, apparently Vietnam's first craft beer brewery, for a drink and small bite. Their beers are pretty solid imitation of Czech beers and, while not too great, make a nice change to the shitty cheap Viet lagers we've been drinking so far. The food looks overpriced so we don't bother.

Snails, Embryos, Frogs

A new day dawns and the clock strikes AppropriateTimeForPho. We head down to Pasteur street and the well regarded (and moderately touristy) Pho Hoa for a bowl of the good stuff.

I've never been the sort of person to wax lyrical about pho and I'm not going to start here. This bowl of pho did not change my life. It was, however, extremely delicious. It's a fairly clear broth but one packed with beefy goodness. So much flavour that it belies the clarity of the broth. The soup is in balance, the herbs are fresh, the noodles nicely cooked and slippery and it's only $2.50 AUD. That's a lot for a bowl of pho over here, but still dirt cheap where we're from. It hits the spot.

After the pho we start walking around a bit and acclimatising ourselves to the traffic. Much is said about the traffic here and the complete lack of order and obedience to the rules, but it misses the point. There's a graceful flow to the chaos: the bigger the vehicle, the more right of way it has; stay moving straight and at a consistent speed and everything will flow around you; honking can be used to express disappointment but is also used a lot to indicate your presence.

Lunch is spent at the huge (and hugely touristy) Ben Thanh market, which is a somewhat challenging task because much of lunch can be spent a) deciding what looks good and b) avoiding the people trying to force you to eat at their stall. I decide to go with a fairly tried and true method of looking where the local-looking people are eating. This leads to me hammering down a bowl of bun rieu cua (noodles with fermented crab stock) and grilled pork on vermicelli. Having decided that avoiding ice is too difficult in this city, I'm washing it down with a super refreshing lemon drink. Despite it being in the overpriced market, this lunch only costs around $2.

We head to a relatively nearby icecream place called Fanny's which not only comes highly rated on TripAdvisor, but has also been called by one of my friend's "worldly" co-workers as "the best vanilla ice cream in the world". It serves as a reminder to why a) TripAdvisor reviews should be taken with a grain of salt and b) that not all personal recommendations are to be trusted.
It's all fairly light eating up to this point because we've booked in a food tour for the night and want to be sufficiently prepared for that.

After meeting our guide, Vu, at the hotel, we're chucked into a couple of taxis and had pillowcases put over our head driven down to a place called Snail Street in District 3. The name comes from, as far as I can tell, the success of one place (driven largely by youngger students) selling snails (what we call clams, conch, cockles, etc) that was replicated by a number of other restaurants in the same street.

You know you're ready for a good time when you arrive to a place and you're greeted with this:

And it's here that having a local (or at least someone that speaks the language) comes in handy. Unguided we could have missed out on all the good stuff, but in Vu's hands he fills the table with things like BBQd conch meat (the meat is removed, BBQd on charcoal, sliced and put back in the shell), chilli crab claws and, on my request, blood cockles (served only barely cooked, dipped in lime, pepper and salt). One of the highlights had to be scallops stir fried with pork fat. Amazing:

Leaving that place (Quan oc Linh) we walk to the next place down the road and there's more tasty treats to come: juicy, charcoaled BBQd frog, grilled prawn skewers, duck tongues (chewy, pointless, but amazing sauce) and, for the more adventurous in the group, duck embryo egg:

While it may have been challenging on its own, despite all the beers we'd had, here it was done in a sour/sweet tamarind sauce with peanuts and herbs, offsetting an unpleasant taste or smell in the egg. It was something I've wanted to try for a long time and probably something I won't bother trying again as the early and later stages of egg development are far tastier.

We cross the road to district 5 to wrap up the savoury with a crab hotpot, okra with stinky tofu (not as bad as the Chinese one) and oysters. Dessert a quick cab ride away for some lotus seeds and seaweed on ice, and we're all done.

Normally food tours look pretty shitty and pandering to western tastes. But here, we got everything we wanted and more. If I ever return, investing in the services of a fixer could be worthwhile to break down some of the barriers that exist between me and tasty food.

The Rebirth: Life (Re) Begins in Saigon

For me, 30 was the year of my existence that was when I realised that it's such an epic pain in the arse to organise things with your best friends. And it's the hump in the road that marks when it will only ever get worse. A pain that becomes chronic.

A few minor potholes along the way: one friend gets married; one has kids; one has the important job; one the needy girlfriend telling him that his vacation time should only be spent on vacations with her.

Se we find ourselves, after a tremendous amount of effort, in Vietnam. Ho Chi Minh City to be exact. On a holiday to mark (roughly) all of us turning 30. Just “the guys”. Friends since high school. Friends to the point where we can passionately, angrily (are they the same?), argue about which country to visit to mark the occasion of us turning 30, and have it all just run off the ducks back. We yelled and exasperated. And we got it booked. That's how it works. A casual acquaintanceship wouldn't survive that shit.

And again, for the first time since Singapore a couple of years back, I find myself re-familiarising myself with the tiny, shitty laptop that has captured my thoughts and feelings and (probablymoreimportantly) dishes of the other overseas trips I've had.

I went cold on it for a while. After Singapore, everything changed. People stopped caring about new restaurants as much. Fewer people on my Facebook feed seemed to travel overseas and eat. I was the same. Blog posts stopped happening.

Maybe I stopped giving a shit about food. It became more about sustenance than it did exploration. Not to say it stopped. It just slowed.

It's complicated, I guess. I listen to a song from a band/singer called LoneLady. I first listened to this song a lot on the first overseas took I trip, to America. Somehow it was a congruous to New York and what I felt when I walked its streets. Somehow it has become the album I listen to every time I go overseas. It's always loaded onto my music player for the plane. I think it's the urgent energy of the music, speaking to the excitement within.

The “romantic foodie”--you know the types; the ones that think that thinking about food is a higher thought pattern (we just GET IT); a sort of contrived poetry; travel writing for the unadventurous?--would have touched down in Vietnam and headed to the first pho outlet they could find. A restorative pho, perhaps? One that recharges you from the horrors of travelling? From jetlag? They gush over it. It's exhausting.

Yes, pho is medicinal and, yes, pho is often special. But it's too hot for it this evening in Ho Chi Minh City. Not stifling, just warm and slightly humid. And pho is a heavy dish. A breakfast dish. Something light, herbal, cooling is needed. And beer should be there by its side.

We're in District 1, which seems to be fairly close to whatever the fuck is happening in this place. We walk the street our hotel is on—a seemingly major street?--for dinner. So many things look “challenging”; pieces of meat that should be served hot that are sitting at room temperature in open carts, pieces of meat that aren't identifiable, dishes served closed to open power lines.

We spotted a banh cuon (stuffed, steamed rice paper) place on that way that looked popular and then spotted nothing half as promising. So we backtrack.

We go to the wrong place by mistake. We're given the 'western' menu. We'd order from the normal menu but none of us really know any Vietnamese. At all. On message boards people might say “you'll be fine in Saigon if you only speak English,” but that's a far too simplistic statement. Too convenient. Nevertheless, none of us bothered to learn any Vietnamese.

We get some beers without any problems. Well... apart from the problem that there's ice in the glasses, which we don't want to consume, and the beers are warm. Slight physics problem there. Either you drink warm, shitty beer or you potentially shit for days because of the potentially diseased water waiting to spring forth from the ice.

Ice discarded, we try to get some fried tofu and spring rolls to snack on before leaving to get some banh cuon.

It's fucked being a someone curious and discerning eater (I feel like a cunt writing that but I feel that it is important to distance myself from cunt tourists that go to places and order dishes that perpetuate a myth and result in “western menus” being developed and containing utterly predictable garbage) and not being able to get what you want. This is a land where it's, on first glance, impossible to order with clarity and exceedingly difficult to communicate in a way that leads you to the good places that serve the good shit.

There's some sort of problem with the spring rolls order but we can't find any common ground with the waitress to figure out what the problem is. It's all a bit of a shambles. Food arrives but there's confusion and one of the group has already taken offence to the shrimp paste that is apparently pretty ubiquitous on tables. We pay, after more confusion, and head for some banh cuon to either steady the ship or further sour the mood.

Thankfully, the banh cuon place is a breeze. So long as you navigate the narrow staircase. We get three types of banh cuon: stuffed with shrimp, with pork floss (the highlight) and stuffed with mushrooms. With a tasty fishcake on top and another warm Saigon Export (again, ice) on the side, we're feeling better. One goes for a bun bo hue, a sort of pho that is common in the more Northern city of Hue (as is banh cuon, really), and he's happy too because he's had his restorative, medicinal broth to get over the horrors of travelling.

This place isn't going to be the breeze that my other destinations were. But, stocked up with bottles of water and 50c bottles of beer (including the very passable 333) from a nearby convenience store, plugging away on this piece of shit laptop connected to the sluggish hotel wifi, listening to the music I'd loaded those years ago when I last booted this thing up for Singapore, I might finally be rediscovering some of that hunger that was lost. The literal hunger to try new things and to explore a city through its restaurants and street carts.

If I don't catch some horrible disease, this could be alright.

RESTAURANT: Rockpool on George

I've never really been able to make my mind up about visiting Rockpool on George. On the one hand I love Bar and Grill and Spice Temple, but on the other I just haven't been able to see the differentiation between Rockpool on George and it's rivals in that fine dining bracket.

But with a birthday happening and it's ascent to 3 chef's hats (making it the card in that pack I was yet to see) I decided to give it a whirl.

The room is nice, classic. It feels like a fancy restaurant felt like a few years ago before insane fitouts and "dark and moody" started to happen.

I'm not sure if it's the ceremonial feel of all of the white, but I feel like we've come to worship at the cult of Perry. The waiters start by asking us if we've been to Spice Temple or Bar & Grill. And which one, in which state, because they're all so different. Then we're handed the menus and presented with a list of all of the suppliers. (Hint: Because Neil likes people to know)

You can choose between having 2, 3 or 4 courses, but all start with an amuse of spanner crab and jerusalem artichoke. It's a sneak peak of things to come; a strong French backbone to the dish but an emphasis on delicate flavours, texture and bringing everything out of the ingredients on hand.

My first chosen course is the chirashi zushi which I'd heard a fair bit of. The best way to describe it is if someone took a really good bento box, one made with fish of superb quality, exploded it, and added a few dabs of chilli sauce. The rice is beautifully cooked and all of the seafood (tuna, kingfish, snapper, etc) is excellent.

Though the pick of the main courses has to be the blue swimmer crab and corn congee. Praise Perry, this is a great dish. It's a haute congee with superb ingredients and a huge emphasis on texture. It's probably the dish of the night. I want this. In a bucket.

Not far off is the chicken "terrine" that sits on a bed of custard with fragrant and medicinal "precious herbs". If  the chicken wasn't impressive enough on it's own--it kind of takes different cuts of the chicken and assembles them to make it look like a piece of pork belly--the custard is soft and the precious herbs are all perfectly cooked and round out the dish.

Desserts were all solid for this level; nice representations of flavour, texture and temperature.

I've found it hard to write about this meal. Most of the time I'll just shit something out pretty soon after the fact, either loving or hating the place, riding on the wave of emotion that I felt. But with this write-up I've been tinkering with it for a month or so, struggling to find the words that can convey my experience. But I suppose that's really the conclusion here: it was a meal that took me a month to write up. A month to continually force myself to write something, then get disinterested, then write some more.

There's no denying the food is good. But it left me feeling a little like I did when I went to est: I enjoyed my time, I didn't regret my time by any stretch, but perhaps next time I'll spend my money elsewhere. I can't fault this place, but I also can't get as excited about this place as I can with others at this price point. Maybe it's me. Definitely it's me.


RATING: Okay, may go back [?]

RECIPE: Dinich Wat (Ethiopian Potato Stew)

I still remember my first taste of Ethiopian food. It was from a stall at the Fox Studio markets, before heading to the SFS for a game of footy. We got it as a joke, thinking that Ethiopia isn't really known for it's cuisine.

But it totally floored me. There was such complex spicing in the dish. It was earthy, yet extremely fragrant. It wasn't hot or heavy. There was the spongey pancake that came with it that I would later learn is called injera. And there was a small squeeze of lemon that gave everything even more depth. I was in love.

I'm pretty sure I made this dish because someone at work was discriminated against.

See, big companies are always making their staff fill out surveys and questionnaires to see if their staff are happy and committed to doing a good job. Because less than 100% of people voted that there was no discrimination at work, people decided that it would be swell to recognise other cultures by having one of those international food things that all the kids are talking about these days.

Only, it wouldn't be a normal food day where everyone brings a dish. It would be a battle. A gauntlet would be laid and one cuisine would battle another.

Someone said they'd lead a team to cook Indian food and everything went quiet. I thought it would be funny to flex Ethiopia's muscles (and all 10 dishes in their culinary repertoire) against what many consider to be one of the great cuisines in the world.

 

One thing on the table will be this dish. Kind of a side dish, but Ethiopian food is usually a huge injera with half a dozen or so different stews (wats) or stir fries (tibs) stacked on top.

 

Dinich Wat

1. Wrap half a garlic bulb in foil and put it into a 200oC oven until the cloves are soft (~45 mins). Once done, remove from oven and leave to cool.

2. In some sort of vessel (I make a sort of bed of foil) put 1T berbere, 1T curry powder, 1t cumin seeds, 1t coriander seeds, 1t fenugreek seeds, 1t salt, 1t black pepper, 1t fennel seeds, 10 or so curry leaves. Put it in the oven with the garlic for around 5 mins or until fragrant. Allow to cool then blend in a spice mix or mortar and pestle.

3. Puree 1 celery stalk, 1 medium red onion, 1 big thumb sized piece of ginger, 1 big thumb sized piece of fresh turmeric (otherwise, add 1T to the spice mix in step #2). Cut the garlic in half horizontally and squeeze out the cloves. Add this to the puree.

4. Clean and peal 1 carrot and 3 large potatoes (I used the equivalent in kipflers). Cut into even chunks around 2cm square.

5. In a large pot over a medium heat add 2T ghee (can sub with grapeseed, coconut or palm oil) and the blend from step #2. Stir then add the puree from step #3. Mix for around 5 mins, making sure it doesn't stick to the bottom.

6. Add the potato and carrot and stir. Keep stirring for around 5 mins or so.

7. Add enough vegetable stock to just cover the vegetables and reduce the heat to low. Cook uncovered until the vegetables have softened. If it's getting too dry, add more stock.

I served it with old sourdough bread in lieu of injera and topped it with a fried mixture of green chilli, onion and curry leaves.

RESTAURANT: Round-Up

I was going to name this post "BITES and Pieces" but then I'd have to commit seppuku. So the post is left with a bland title and my bowels are left where they were before (elbow?).

Here are a few things I've eaten lately that took my fancy, in a way that only things can do.


Cough Syrup Ice Cream @ N2 Extreme Gelato

For a while I wondered what the hell the name meant and what made it so "extreme". This was knowing full well that they make their ice cream a la minute upon ordering. Oh, yeah, with liquid nitrogen.

Honestly, I only just got the name 5 minutes ago.

Nevertheless, I always liked cough syrup as a kid so the idea of a cough syrup ice cream had the fat child inside me jumping smiling with joy. That kid sure loved both ice cream and cough syrup. Remember when Pepsi brought out all of those flavours in the late 80s/early 90s that were cherry and strawberry and all that and no one liked them because they tasted like medicine? I DEVOURED them.

There's a cloud of smoke from the LN2 and then the blender whirls and then you have your ice cream. It's almost sorbet-esque as I think it's more milk based than custard based. And gosh it's as nice as it is fun.

I would have tried another scoop but they don't do double scoops. Next time, a milkshake. The place has only just opened up in the non-touristy section of Dixon St. This is going to be CHOCKERS in summer.




Preserved Egg and Pork Congee @ Super Bowl

From the non-touristy section of Dixon St we head to the touristy section.

I have a memory from childhood that I can't shake. Before a Sydney Kings game at the Entertainment Centre (remember when basketball was popular?) my parents took me here and we ate what westerners eat and one of my parents said "now you can tell your friends you've been to the superbowl".

It sounded weird so I didn't.

Years later and Super Bowl is the sort of place I go to when I have a craving for their signature dish: congee (which is about once every 2 years).

Stacks of flavour in the bowl, awesome fried bread, mega servings. I wasn't that hungry but GOD DAMN did I enjoy this bowl.




Feijoada @ Cafecito

I moved offices at the start of this year which meant that my morning commute took me straight past this fairly nondescript cafe in a fairly nondescript arcade that ajoins Town Hall where every shop seems to go bust within 6 months.

I saw the Brazilian flags hanging proudly and wondered if they have good coffee, basically daily. It wasn't until recently, when I gave up coffee, that I started wondering if they had one of my favourite dishes of all time: feijoada.

Turns out they bloody well do.

HOLY HELL do I love feijoada. Unfamiliar with it? It's basically Brazil's national dish, a stew of pork offcuts, chorizo, black beans, herbs and spices that gets cooked for hours until the fatty pork breaks down and the pot turns a kind of deep purpley black colour. It's almost like cassoulet, but somehow packed with more flavour.

I've made it a few times myself out of desperation, not having anywhere to provide it to me. Now, I have Cafecito. Their version comes with the traditional sides of collared greens, friend cassava flour, rice and orange. It's very, very tasty.

With plenty of other Brazillian dishes on the menu I'm a certainty to return. Unfortunately, they only open for lunch and breakfast, so you'll need to get there early(ish) for your fix.

RESTAURANT: Sushi E

When Sushi E opened, it felt like a game changer for Japanese food not just in Sydney, but all over Australia. I can't think of any other places around at the time that threw themselves so far in to serving up exceptional quality sushi and sashimi and did it so well.

It was one of the reasons why I chose Sushi E as one of my first "fine dining" destinations when I was first getting into eating out. It was a funny night, looking back. We ordered the second cheapest bottle of wine (which was still bloody expensive at nearly three times retail), I didn't know how to pronounce ceviche when I ordered it, we hadn't figured out that food can be shared and we had to stick with cheaper dishes that would get us full before our money ran out.

I still remember the food well. The tuna ceviche was bright, sharp and studded with chunks of exceptional tuna. The rolls were perfect constructions of taste and texture. The sashimi was of a quality I never thought was possible.

As great as it was, I knew it could be better. It was here, at Sushi E, that I decided that eating out shouldn't have limitations. If I couldn't afford to go to a place and order what I wanted, then I'd go somewhere else. It might mean having a few more cheap nights out before you can afford the big one, but it makes the experience that little bit sweeter knowing that if you want something, you can have it. It's greed, basically.


And now, years later, I'm back at Sushi E for my second go. I think I'm probably even more excited this time.

We get a seat at the counter, in nearly the same spot as last time. To complete the loop, the person I went with all those years ago is here tonight too. We start with a bottle of champagne. Last time we did the same, but it was when you could call sparkling wine "champagne" (remember that?).

From what I remember of it, the menu hasn't changed much. If at all.

We kick off with sashimi, as is required at a place like this. My eyes aren't quite as wide to the joys of raw fish as they were on that previous visit, so I'm not as impressed. There's no denying the quality of the fish here, but it's not mind-blowing and might not even be world class. Still among the best in Australia? Probably, though it isn't as peerless as it once was.

The spoons also arrive early. Delicious bites of salmon tartare, spicy scallop and a few other things. The appetite is in high gear.

Tuna tataki arrives on a bed of mixed leaves with a sharp yuzu dressing. The slices with the charred outside go down exceptionally easy.

The same salad is back for the spicy scallops, which are quickly seared with the blowtorch with some mayo and miso. A great flavour combo.

Chicken kara age is solid, with a crunchy, powdery coating over marinated chicken. Not mind-blowing, but above average.

I know how to pronounce ceviche now, so a return to the tuna ceviche is a must. It's exactly how I remember it, with big chunks of magnificent tuna, ripe cherry tomatoes, micro leaves and a sharp citrus punch.

Onto the rolls. The spider roll, filled with crispy soft shell crab, is pure enjoyment to eat. The dynamite roll has heat coming from every direction, but still keeps the flavour of the tuna.

It's all washed down with an excellent drinks list, which is what we'd expect from a Merivale establishment.


While it was excellent to return to Sushi E and the meal was extremely enjoyable, I can't help feel that the old girl is looking a bit tired. The menu hasn't changed in the slightest and feels out of touch, service is a bit slow and the quality is there but it's in danger of losing out to places like Sake and Sokyo who seem to be pushing forward. And you get the feeling they don't care about it. Diners (and their expectations) have changed rapidly over the years; Sushi E hasn't kept pace.

I'll come back again, with far less of a break between visits, but I'm not sure how long it will be before Sushi E becomes an afterthought when people talk about great sushi in Sydney.


RATING: Will return to [?]

RESTAURANT: Takeru

I've walked past it dozens of times and seen the roaring lunchtime trade it does, but it wasn't until this week that I dove in to Takeru to see what all the fuss is about.

The fuss is, at many Japanese places in the city at lunchtime, about bento boxes.

For around $13, Takeru dishes up a pretty solid bento box with choices like teriyaki fish, grilled eel and grilled beef.

The cooking wasn't flawless (the meat was occasionally overcooked or not that great quality), but the selection in the box is good and you leave with the general vibe that you've gotten a nice, light meal at a pretty good price.

With the bento boxes locked in as decent bets, the wider (and fairly huge) menu deserved an exploration. A normal dish wouldn't do. I needed a dish that was made and then wrapped in an omelette. Omu soba:

It's effectively a stir fry wrapped in egg. And the portion size is HUGE. This could easily feed two people.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a great dish. The stir fry was a bit boring and the chicken tasted pretty average.

All up, it's a solid casual Japanese eatery near Chinatown with fairly comfortable seating, decent food and good prices. I'd go back there again, but I didn't feel anything made it better than the dozens of other Japanese places like it in the city.


RATING: Okay, may go back [?]

BEER: NAIL BREWING Clout Stout

She's baaaa-aaaack.

Last year I managed to get my first taste of Nail Brewing's hugely regarded and hugely limited "Clout" stout and was totally blown away by it. It was a long wait, but it's back for another year.

I was excited. My camera was also so excited that the battery drained itself and all I could managed with the camera phone was this abysmal effort:

It hardly does it justice. It's like taking a photo of Helen Mirren using a piece of plywood and your fist.

Some facts:
- Limited release of 600 bottles.
- 750ml bottle
- 10.8% abv
- RRP of around $75 (yes, that's for ONE bottle)
- Gold medal, Best Australian Stout, Australian International Beer Awards

This is one for savouring. This is one for the Russian Imperial Stout believers.

Packed with malt. Obscene amounts of malt. There's no surprise that you get a lot of cocoa, chocolate, vanilla and malt. The strong fruit presence is the surprise: red berry, mandarin, plums.

The depth of the flavour is insane. Sure, you can pour you and your mates a tall glass and enjoy it develop as it opens up in the glass, but why not take the whole bottle down yourself and go far, far down the rabbit hole.

If price wasn't a factor, I'd call this Australia's best beer and one of the best stouts in the world. Dollar for dollar, it's still way, way up there.

And if you have the patience to cellar this one for a few years, do it: it's going to get even better.

95%

RESTAURANT: Mr Wong's

You walk in and the ridiculously expensive fitout has done it's job: you definitely feel transported to another time. Wood everywhere, a mountain of steamer trays, staff in classic suits.

I'm not sure if it's because it's this end of the CBD or because the restaurant is part of the Merivale group, but this "other time" we've been transported to is full of wankers: Nearly every table around us is waiting for someone to arrive before ordering, another table takes (I kid you not) an hour to decide on what to order and another table of over-privileged rich fucks decides that this is a nice setting to take a lazy 50 photos of their happy family gathering (flash on of course; this dark lighting produces horrible photos (see below)) in between sips of champagne and tosses of the overly-maintained hair.

It's almost enough to distract from what is a seriously good effort from Dan Hong and his team.

Almost. It ticks so many boxes: late night sittings, modern chinese, live seafood, BBQd ducks and pork, dumplings, good service, good cocktails, great wine, awesome fitout and good food.


Apart from feeling contempt for my fellow humans, I'm here for the food. Lunch is a dim sum heavy fare, with dinner offering a sort of best of selection of steamed and/or fried (above) dim sums. Never one to shy away from dim sum, we go for the "and". It's up there with some of the best dim sum in Sydney, and still shows more promise (the Chinese mushroom dumpling, for example, was a little starchy). Anything of the dim sums that include seafood are generous, perfectly cooked and excellent quality. A lot has been said of their interpretation of prawn toast, which includes foie gras. But, as with most Australian restaurants, there isn't that much foie gras to write home about. I'm more impressed by the crunchy coating and the chunks of prawn.

While the menu has more of a Canton vibe about it, there are greatest hits from all over China.

Sichuan steak tartare managed to yell louder than some of the tempting items on the menu. It's a nice mound of steak with a sichuan spiced cracker, that could probably benefit from a slightly lighter cracker and less supurfluous cucumber on the side of the bowl to allow the excellent meat to star.

Remixing drunken chicken by boning out the chicken and rolling it is a nice touch, with a couple of minor missteps in a piece of bone and a bit of blood being present. Small problems that the kitchen will iron out with time.

Ducks sway seductively in the breeze, calling my name. But, no, must be strong. The char sui pork gets the nod over the duck and there are no regrets. Sweet, well cooked and packed with flavour. Great with the super light rice on offer.

If there's one dish the rice was designed for it has to be the mapo tofu. This is a pretty strong version, with a steamed egg custard under the stew replacing the traditional chunks of tofu. It's silkier to eat and the differentiation of flavours is better. The stew itself probably isn't as good as some of the great Szechuan restaurants, but it's certainly above average and definitely something I can see myself getting again and again.

A side of fried green beans with pork is generous and nicely done, but, again, might fall a little short of some traditional places offering this dish. Though there's no denying the quality of the produce is better.

Dessert time and the fried ice cream is a gimmick that can't be resisted. Unsurprisingly, it's a big step up from the suburban Chinese takeaway version. A fluffy, crunchy batter covers perfectly textured ice cream and it all sits in a nice butterscotch sauce.

All of this we decide to have with some cocktails off their list which offers a taste of various Chinese provinces with the added benefit of making the table taking photos a lot more tolerable.


All up, a welcome arrival to the Sydney dining scene with good food, good booze, good service and a huge menu which demands you explore it in detail. Some of the dishes may not be any better than the traditional places, but the setting and the quality of produce more than makes up for it. You get the feeling it's what they set out to do, and that's definitely what they've achieved. With time his place will get even better.


RATING: Will return to [?]

RECIPE: Numbing Beef and Bean Stew

Chinese based, Indian technique, Italian tweaked. Fusion gone mad.

For 5 minutes, dry roast 3 tablespoons of szechuan pepper, 1 teaspoon of pepper, 1 teaspoon of fennel seeds, 1 teaspoon of coriander seeds, 1 star anise, 1 quarter of a cinnamon quill. Blend to a fine powder.

Wrap a head of garlic in foil and roast until soft. Cut in half and squeeze out the goodness. Discard the badness. Blend with 1 brown onion, 1 thumb of ginger, 1 deseeded red chilli and 1 deseeded green chilli.

Brown off 1 kilo of thick chunks of stewing beef (rump) over a high heat in a large pot. Prior to removing, add a splash of soy sauce and shao hsing rice wine and a sprinkling of the spice mixture, stir and cook for another 1-2 minutes. Once done, deglaze the pot with rice wine. Pour this over the beef, which is sitting aside to rest.

Head some grapeseed oil in the pot and fry the onion/garlic/etc mixture over a medium-low heat for 15 minutes. Add the remaining spice blend and mix. Add the beef and mix.

Add 150mls of dark soy, 50 mls of light soy, 50 mls of rice wine and enough weak beef or vegetable stock to cover the meat. Reduce to a low simmer and cook for approx 4 hours or until the beef can be split easily with a spoon.

With around 20 minutes remaining, add a can of canellini beans, 1 tablespoon of fermented black bean and generous splashes of sesame and chilli oil.

Serve with coriander leaves and finely sliced spring onions.

RESTAURANT: Paul's Famous Hamburgers

With The Shire coming along and killing everyone's perceptions of the shire, I've been thinking a lot lately about the good things that I remember about God's Country.

I could only think of one thing...


That white bag. With that blue text. With that pineapple crush lurking.

If there's one thing that the internet has been good for, it's been to display the opening hours of Paul's. I haven't been there for around 15 years but what I remember of the place is that it was seemingly never open when I wanted it to be. I still have countless traumatic childhood memories of convincing my parents to take me there, only to get there and find it closed.

Some things, therapy can never fix. Even though the internet told me I had until 3 to get there for a burger, the cold sweats started when the clock struck 2:18 and we were still a good 10 minutes away. MAYBE EVEN A GOOD 15 MINUTES.


The works.

Would it live up to the memory? I've had some pretty nice burgers in the 15 years since my last one at Paul's, maybe my idea of a "good burger" has changed?

Nah, it's still a great burger.

These burgers aren't about high grade, medium-rare wagyu meat or housemade relishes or brioche buns that have had a stick of butter fucked into them. These burgers are about fresh ingredients because of high turnover; well executed fried eggs and bacon; well done meat that tastes like it should have, before we knew we could eat burgers medium rare; juicy pineapple; and lightly toasted buns that are only designed to hold together for a minute or so, until the juiciness of all of the ingredients overwhelms them.

Is the burger on par with the likes of Rockpool's? Of course not. That's not the point.

These are takeaway shop burgers done really well and with really clean flavours and at a reasonable price. Worth the ridiculous queues? Maybe. Everyone is here to relive a memory so vivid you can bite it. Whether they got their burgers at Paul's as a kid or not, Paul's is one of the best places to have captured it and wrapped it in paper.

Oh, and who can forget the pineapple crush, so thick and refreshing. My dad always tried to talk up the milkshakes, but I knew I was on to a winner with the pineapple crush. The apple fell far from the tree as far as pineapple crush is concerned.


RATING: Will return to [?]

BEER: HAANDBRYGGERIET Sweet and Sour

It has been a while since I got my beertalk on around here. I suppose I've just been so busy not posting about other things that it has trickled through the cracks.

Another, more likely reason, is that I've been I've been sucked in by the immediacy of Untappd. For those not in the know, Untappd is a combination of Foursquare and Facebook, but for beers. Drink a beer, check it in, write a tweet-sized review and wait for random people to toast your choice. All that in the time it took to even think about writing a blog post about it.

I'm also a big fan of it because the data analyst in me loves knowing how many beers I've had, how many unique ones I've had and how long it took me to have them. So far, all signs point to me being a raging alcoholic.

Anyway, if you're a beer fan I recommend getting the app. If you're already on there, why not add me as a friend or some shit.


So, this beer.

HaandBryggeriet are four Norwegian guys from Norway (authentic) that seemingly get together when they feel like it and fuck around and make whatever type of beer they want. Thankfully, the beers are, generally, awesome.

This time, they felt like making a sour beer with a sweet edge and then chucking it in some French oak barrels for a lazy 18 months.

As soon as you pour it, being careful to negotiate the stream of froth, and the first slash hits the side of the glass, the sour smell crashes into your nose. It's not a harsh sourness like some of the bigger Cantillons or Belgians, but there's no escaping the tartness.

The sweetness on the palate is, thankfully, not artificial like with so many other sour beers. It's used sparingly and really only to help the first sip go down easily. It quickly dissipates and brings the sour to the fore, along with some herbal, woody and dark berry notes. The finish has a little medicinal/paracetamol kick that isn't great, but isn't too offensive.

Overall, another lovely beer from Norway.

90%

RESTAURANT: Delima Restaurant

Despite being fairly similar to Thai, Malaysian and Singaporean cuisine, Indonesian food has been lagging being it's friends in setting up a strong foothold closer to the CBD. Instead, most of Sydney's Indonesian eateries are located around Kingsford and Randwick.

oh gado

Delima is different. It sits on the One Dixon block, around solid eateries like Uyghar Cuisine, Crazy Wings and Kura III, which perhaps explains why they need two spruikers out the front to entice you in. It's an odd dance: they hold the menu out and ask you if you want to eat, but if you say "yes" it will only cause confusion. Do as most people seem to do and just walk straight past them, up the stairs and into some faux tranquillity.

If the fish tank near the entrance wasn't enough there is also a pond filled with more fish. Any restaurant this keen to show off fish is alright in my books.

We're not so much shown to our table as we are shown to our little room. For two people, the room--which easily seats four--is equal parts excessive and excellent. We have our own pot plants and our own window which peaks through to the monorail which is directly on the other side of said window. It's not loud and it's not distracting. If anything, it makes you feel like you've stumbled into some sort of hidden bar near a Tokyo train station.

The menu is a little confusing, with entrees and mains of all type scattered seemingly without reason throughout the book. Though with every dish having an accompanying picture and description, you get pretty comfortable pretty soon.

Bintangs hit the table, along with some complimentary prawn crackers to get the party started. A lot of tempting choices, but we kick off with tempe tahu kuning. Seasoned and deep fried tofu and fermented tempeh with sambal, and definitely not a tribute dish to the nondescript Sydney suburb. There is surprising a hell of a lot of flavour in the tofu and especially in the tempeh.

Tahu kipas--crunchy, puffed tofu, stuffed with vegetables and prawns--has the feel of a lighter, more textually interesting spring roll and is another solid starter. Lumpia udang too is as solid as prawn mince put in pastry and deep fried can be, proving to be an adequate bed-fellow for another round of Bintangs.

Gado gado is one of the better known Indo dishes and this one isn't a bad attempt. PLenty of textures, plenty of crunch and a nice sweet/savoury sauce to bring it all together.

It's oddly difficult to find great rendang in the city, but Delima's is bloody nice. It's the wetter style and the sauce has a lot more spicing than some of it's contemporaries. The chucks of beef, of course, break apart with a spoon.

Not that we had room for it, but we decide to give desserts a shake. Es cendol and es kampur are both nice offerings, with shaved ice and palm sugar combining well with jellies and other toppings.

The restaurant advertises itself as fine dining, but you'll struggle to drop more than $50 a head here. With that you get good food, comfortable surrounds and friendly service. In a city lacking many other Indo offerings, I can definitely see myself coming back here for more.


RATING: Will return to [?]

RESTAURANT: Courgette (ACT)

"CANBERRA: I hope you had an okay-ish time"

I went down to Canberra this weekend with some friends to see a friend of ours that moved there for work. It's only taken 4 years for us to get around to doing it, which makes us Good Friends (TM).

We originally planned to head down to 2-hatter Aubergine but, through misadventure and some external factors, ended up at sister restaurant Courgette (not knowing they were related at the time).

Dinner is a four course menu for $75 (plus wine and all that jazz), with four or five choices for each course. The dishes themselves read a little odd, with something like "crisp skin local snapper with poached moreton bay bug, clam, garlic mussel emulsion" sounding like an error at the printers where they put two dishes together on the same line.


I start with the blue swimmer crab with avocado, tomato jelly, celery and lime mayo (above). It's an excellent start with it's classic flavour combinations and crystal clear flavours. It's just a shame it took over an hour between walking in the door to this arriving on the plate.

The second course is a difficult choice, with everything on a similar level of temptation. I opt for the quail with scampi, corn mousse, peas, sesame wafer and truffle (yes, a lot of ingredients). It's interesting to see scampi and quail on the same plate, but the dish seems to work. It's not an amazing dish but I enjoy how broad the flavours are, yet still integrated.


The third course brings beef with an oxtail "cigar" and potato mash (above). It also says "sugar snap pea salad" but as it's half of one pea I refuse to acknowledge it.

It's a good dish, with all of the elements being tasty. Again, not amazing but still solid.

The fourth course is dessert, but cheese spoke to me so I went in that direction. Its's a decent cheese course, with an (perhaps over)abundance of crackers, fruit and nuts to call upon.

Service is excellent, though let down by the slow execution by the kitchen. Food is good and worth the price. It won't set the world on fire (my world was at room temperature at the end of the meal), but for some fine-dining at a price that won't break the bank, Courgette provides a good option.


RATING: Okay, may go back [?]

RESTAURANT: Albee's Kitchen

A friend of mine has been talking about a Malaysian restaurant in Campsie ever since it opened. Not being one to frequent Campsie (I doubt I'd be able to pick it out on a map), I've never been. He's taken other friends have shared his enthusiasm, which has made this place somewhat mythical. But it's not as simple as just going to Campsie and trying the food. No, one must first become a man before going to Campsie and eating Malaysian food.

Apparently this place gets packed during peak times, so it was fortunate that we went between lunch and dinner and could spread our wings. The menu is bloody massive, covering the standard Malay dishes like char kway teow, laksa, Hainanese chicken rice, satay and fish head soup, and stuff I've never seen in writing before, like butter oat chicken, milky creamy pork rib and marmite chicken.

Curiosity orders the latter, which turns out to be a nice crunchy chicken, almost like a sweet and sour chicken. We also start with curry puffs which are huge, stuffed with egg and vegetables, and delicious. The pastry is perfectly crunchy.

Pandan wrapped chicken sounds like a winner and comes highly recommended, but I'm turned off by a few pieces being undercooked which causes a pool of blood to form at the bottom of the bowl.

It's hard to go past char kway teow, so we don't. It's a decent version with the big plus of added clams, but not one that will set the world on fire. A little char missing, the chinese sausage not integrating with the rest of the dish and average prawns add up.

Though it's better than the hokkian noodles (pictured), whose tasty noodles are let down by a sauce none of us really enjoy and tiny shrimp with little flavour. Not even chunks of pork lard could save it.

A visit to a Malaysian joint isn't complete without an order (or more) of satay. Here, they're well marinated with turmeric dominating and come with more, peanut heavy sauce on the side. Very tasty all in all.

On the side we also get the four treasure--two types of beans, eggplant and okra stir fried in a pungent sambal--which is quite tasty.

A few hits and a few misses, but it's still easy to see why this place is popular. Good prices, authentic food, quick service and a mind-boggling selection of dishes for the local Campsians. Though, I feel that the standard of Malaysian food has been rapidly increasing lately and at the moment this place doesn't quite have enough to make me want to make a special journey for it.


RATING: Okay, may go back [?]

RESTAURANT: Bodhi in the Park

I've been curious about checking Bodhi out for quite a while, since it always seems to pop up on all of those derivative "best of lists" as a sort of whacky yum cha/vegetarian/alternative setting sort of place. I hadn't really known it was full on vegan, organic, etc, etc, but that's not the sort of thing that will phase me; I'm not the sort of person that needs to eat meat with every meal.

No one mentioned that there were French waitresses. This seems like an oversight. Your heart will immediately melt like butter. Which is ironic, given that vegans don't eat butter.

We kick things off with a bunch of entrees, many of which are from their lunchtime yum cha menu (albeit at a higher price at dinner). Salt and pepper faux prawns appear to be something of a signature dish here. It's a tasty, fried dish, though the prawn flavour definitely isn't a fresh prawn flavour, which strikes me as odd given they could manufacture any flavour.

Steamed sticky rice flower buns and the assorted steamed buns are winners, with nice texture to the bun and good flavour to the filling.

Tempura mushrooms in BBQ sauce are pretty much that and, while nice and fried, aren't anything that will set the world on fire. Better is the smoked tofu and pineapple on betel leaf, which comes packing some great flavour, albeit not as much as many other meat-laden Thai betel leaf starters I've hard.

Steamed sticky rice parcels are nicely filling among a bevy of protein based dishes, packing a good texture and a very tasty filling.

On to mains and we kick of with another apparently signature dish of peking faux duck. It's a pale imitation of a peking duck proper, with the faux duck really only resembling duck that has been overcooked and deep fried to the point of not being duck. Pancakes look a little sad and sauces aren't anything special.

All is forgotten when the stuffed mushrooms arrive and they're bloody amazing, filled with something creamy and salty and covered in some black bean dressing. They also come with stuffed capsicums that are similarly successful.

Though all is forgotten with the faux duck salad with watermelon. I did not care for this. At all. Faux duck, with a few sad cubes of watermelon and some lettuce leaves. Presentation wasn't great, with the salad sitting in a small bowl on a long plate, with a few cubes of watermelon and drizzles of dressing at the other end. For around $20 for a handful of food, it didn't scream good value either.

Stuffed and fried eggplant came well recommended from the staff, but fell a little flat. The stuffing was nice, but the rest of the dish tasted a bit like oil and lacked flavour, as eggplant often does.


I could see myself returning here for the yum cha lunch, especially when the weather is nice and the outdoor seating is viable, but I could never see myself--a person that eats anything--returning for dinner.

The food wasn't really filling and the prices seemed high for what we got. Service was attentive but probably over enthusiastic, with the wait staff being almost cloyingly sweet, overpractised and helpful at times. And the place had a bit of a weekend cafe vibe about it, with loud voices echoing along the narrow room and vegan kids roaming unchecked.


RATING: Okay, may go back [?]

RESTAURANT: Petaling Street

No doubt inspired by the success of places like Mamak and the insanity that the yearly Night Noodle Markets are bringing, a bunch of new Malaysian places have opened recently to cater for a Sydney public that obviously can't get enough of that wonderful stuff.

Petaling Street is one of the newer entries, popping up around 6 months ago and being nearly immediately inundated by hungry beasts.

And I dare say the inundation is warranted. On my first visit I popped in for a quick iced tea (tasty) and one of the best char kway teows that I've had in Sydney. Chunks of fat, pippies, chinese sausage and a massive serving. I was as satisfied as I was full and lethargic at work for the rest of the day. Which is to say, very. The only thing keeping it from being a truly epic CKT was that it could have done with a little more wok char on the day.

My other visit brought out a mee goreng that was just as enjoyable as the CKT on the previous visit as well as every white guys favourite: massaman curry. Advertised on the menu as super hot, it was (perhaps thankfully) no hotter than any other massaman I've tried to say. Which is to say, not very. While it was a solid dish, and one I'd happily eat again, the beef was a bit too fatty and the curry lacking in some spices.

All up, solid food that seems to arrive in an instant. With the added benefit of being able to book, so you don't have to brave the insane lines like you would at Mamak.


RATING: Will return to [?]

RESTAURANT: Suminoya

I've never really been a person moved my sentiment. People, animals, places, all are just dust in the flux of life. To look back upon them and feel for them almost feels like a fear of progress. Forget the past, ignore the bridges, reach for the future.

It's a nice theory, but one that gets completely destroyed when your favourite all you can eat Korean barbeque joint falls into the hands of new management and everything that made it great disappears overnight (looking at you, Shinara).

It happened a few years ago and ever since I've been looking for a place that will let me cook my own meat and will let me eat as much as I want for a fixed price. Just thinking about all of that meat would leave me with a huge hole in my stomach. It was a special place reserved for copious amounts of meat.

So Suminoya had a hell of a lot to live up to. They're from the same restaurant group as the lovely Menya and Mappen, so there was promise.

While it's only a short stroll from Martin Place, you'd never think that there was anything at the end of the nothing-street the restaurant is in. Even when you approach it, knowing it should be there, it doesn't reveal itself until the last minute.

You walk in and the flames and sparks from the chef's grilling station spit and crackle at you to reward your frightening journey down the frightening alley.

Slide into a booth and order the 750ml bottle of plum wine. Anything else is foolish.

There are two menus: premium and gourmet, but different ones are available on different days. Or something. I don't care. There is the promise of unlimited meat so I'm already in the hazy meat zone. You pay your fee, order as much food as you want in 60 minutes, eat as much as you want in 90 minutes, leave and feel uplifted, despite the additional kilograms you're now nursing in your body.

Before the meat arrives, there's a good chance to test the sides for quality. Seaweed salad is delicious. Yukke (often served frozen at other places) arrives as a bowl full of fresh, ruby meat, egg yolk and everything else that makes yukke such a great tartare-esque dish. Kimchees are all solid and are an essential side to counter the meat that's about to arrive. The higher priced gourmet menu comes with sashimi with isn't bad at all, if slightly tired looking.

Portion sizes on the first order are tiny, so order a lot.

The meat and the grill arrive and it's so much better than the weak gas at a lot of Korean BBQ places. The charcoal of the Japanese yakiniku grill promises to get hot as hell and impart an awesome flavour.

And, indeed, it isn't too long before the fat dripping off one of the meats turns the grill into an inferno. It's thrilling and delicious at the same time, which is the best kind of fun.

Our allotted ordering and eating time is a blur of flame, meat, deliciousness, smoke, additional plum wine and general Good Times. The quality of the food is great for the price, the service is attentive and the restaurant is nicely designed.

I may have found my new muse. Now the restaurant just needs to try and survive for a while with me and my friends trying to eat it into the ground.


RATING: Will return to [?]