L'Assiette Champenoise. 2 Stars.

Sitting just outside Reims in Tinqueux is the 2-starred L'Assiette Champenoise, a hotel/restaurant that has built up a solid reputation for putting out exciting food.

I was looking forward to this one.

It's a lovely looking restaurant. Modern, but with a subdued elegance. When you walk in you can either head to the table or, if the weather is right, have an aperitif on the terrace.

I didn't come to France to look at terraces, so we headed for the table and had the aperitif there. After a long day walking around the cluster of champagne houses in Reims, a seat and a cold glass of champagne was most welcoming.

We opted for the menu saviour, the larger of the two set menus on offer (of course, they also have a tight a la carte menu. It began with some nice appetisers (fried balls of foie gras, sure!) and a great amuse bouche (fish in a cheese sauce) and by “nice” and “great” I really mean “laden with fat”. I've never been one to complain at the site of a lot of rich/fatty food, but the next 2-3 hours were going to be one of the biggest tests of my life.

First dish. Lobster with a fish soup. Sounds nice and French but it was straight out of Chinese/Malay. The fish soup (served cold, interestingly) was laced with ginger and the hint of chilli. On the side, a piece of toast that more closely resembled a prawn cracker (along with a martini glass of MORE lobster and more soup). It was nice.

Next up, gnocchi with a comte cheese sauce and what tasted like pickled vegetables. On their own, the gnocchi was a tad bland, the cheese sauce a tad too rich, and the pickled vegetables too... pickled. But together they worked perfectly. The pickle cut through the richness of the sauce and the gnocchi carried the dish through.

Then it started to get serious (in terms of blockage of the artery). A chunk of nicely cooked fish sat alone on a plate. On the side sat a bowl of mushroom slices. A pause, then they brought over the sauce: a rich cheese and bacon affair. Oh, and the mushrooms are actually hiding more mushrooms, and a garlic butter dressing. And... they left a pot of the sauce on the table. Dangerous.

Dangerous because the dish was awesome. And we wanted as much as possible. The garlic butter that dressed the mushrooms was perfectly balanced and together with the fish and a bit f the sauce it was a mouthful of heaven. Rich, velvety, comforting, good. Especially when you put more sauce on. And more. And after it was gone, you put more sauce on your plate because you wanted to taste the sauce alone. But then you stopped adding sauce, because the sauce was all gone.

Then into the main course. A large cube of beef cooked (I think) sous vide, with a layer of awesome fat. Alongside that, a potato carved to look like a piece of bone with marrow inside. On top of that, a yoghurt sauce, almost like a raita. And in the middle, a thick, but not too strong sauce. Yes, this was also an excellent dish. Yes, they left the pot of sauce again.

I was full. That was odd.

Looking around, people who started well before us had sticks of fairy floss on their tables. Dessert? They'd been eating that course for a long time, Strange...

The chef did the rounds and said hello to everyone, appearing humble in the face of the effusive praise coming from every table.

Time for another cheese cart. While not as impressive as the one at Paul Bocuse, and maybe not in as perfect condition (but damn close), it still had some stellar cheeses. One of the best camemberts I've ever had and hands-down the best comte I have ever had. If I had comte like that then I'd be making cheese sauces with every damn course too, I think. Every other cheese also hit the mark in big ways (but, hey, this is France).

And then dessert.

Really?

The waiter came off and rattled off a list of dishes in French, and I realised that I shouldn't have tried to bluff my way through this meal with the 10 words of French I know.

I heard “La Mirabelle” and it sounded nice. I hoped that was the fairy floss thing.

And then... something happened...

The gates of hell opened and out walked approximately 16,000 desserts and petit fours (petit four-thousands?). Their mission was to destroy us.

They sat on the table and stared at us. Fairy floss, lollipops, toffees, tiny eclairs, lines of chocolate, biscuits.

I guess that was “La Mirabelle”.

Nope.

The waiter returned with our desserts. An awesome dish of layers of thin meringue and pear purees and sorbets. Another cracking dish. The sweetness was spot on and not over the top and the textures, as you worked your spoon through the layers, Had just the right crunch to compliment the purees. Oh, and on the side, another martini glass, filled with more pears, custard and meringues.

We ate that, and the dessert army stared at us. Surely it would be rude not to try... all of them?

We busted our guts and tried our best to get through everything on the table. But it was impossible. There was so much.

As we went to leave, the waiter stopped us. Another surprise, he said, handing us a small bag.

A monsterous “petit” brioche.

“In case you want something to munch on tonight,” he said, happily.

I threw up in my mouth a little bit, and left feeling pretty damn good. As we waited for the taxi, the chef came out and farewelled us.

From the welcome at the front desk to the dessert onslaught, L'Assiette Champenoise constantly hit the marks. The food was great, the service near perfect, the wine matches from the sommelier were outstanding and the setting lovely.

Was it as good as some of the best meals I've ever had? Better? Probably not. But make no mistake, this is a fantastic restaurant with a bright future. If they continue to make food this good then I have no doubts that we'll be hearing a lot more from this place and, in particular, the relatively young chef at the helm.


Michelin star count: 10

La Vigneraie

I didn't have any places in mind for our first dinner in Reims (the heart of the Champagne region). After a bit of looking online, we headed to a restaurant near the main strip called La Vigneraie. While not Michelin-starred (oh, Ben, how could you lower yourself?), it is listed in the guide (oh, phew, well I guess that is KIND OF OKAY! Just be careful...).

Pretty tidy little place. We opted for their menu gourmand or something of that nature, which was around 66 euro for 5 or 6 courses. The amuse bouche wasn't outstanding (some sort of pastry thing with some sort of seafood mousse), but the entree of foie gras two ways was nice (also with fig two ways). The course that followed of lobster with spinach in a rich seafood bisque and some sort of foam was fantastic. Roasted pigeon for the main was good and the cheese cart and dessert plates that finished off the meal were also quite nice. A solid meal, nice restaurant, warm service and plenty of champagne on the wine list all made for a good experience.

I could get used to eating a lot of foie gras (I also had two courses of foie gras with lunch).I could also eat that lobster dish many times again. Succulent lobster with a great bisque. It reminded me a lot of a similar dish I had elsewhere. I think at Les Bernadin in New York.

Nevertheless, if you're in Reims you could do a lot worse than pay a visit to this place.

Paul Bocuse; The first 3-starred cab off the rank

In the first piece I wrong about this trip, I said that one of my motivations for eating at all of these restaurants was to get a taste of the culinary world as it is now; to plant a yardstick. As we headed towards the first of the 3-starred restaurants, I realised that this was going to be a problem, because Paul Bocuse isn't about food “now”, it's about respecting the history of French cuisine and, more accurately, paying tribute to the dishes that chef Paul Bocuse created during his stay near the top of the French culinary landscape. It's probably worth mentioning that he's had those three Michelin stars for nearly 50 years.

But therein lies the problem. How can one taste the current, and still respect the past? If food is art, can it be timeless?

My dinner at Paul Bocuse only left me more unsure of the answer to that question.

There are four thing that you notice about the restaurant immediately:
1.The outside is like a gaudy Swiss cottage.
2.The inside is well-adored but in an ever so slightly dated way (ala a glamorous restaurant from the 70s or 80s that hasn't changed.
3.Everything has the Paul Bocuse name or logo on it.
4.There are approximately 6000 staff members on the floor.

There are a few different menus on offer, but we opted for the big boy: the grande tradition degustation (at 215euro plus wine). It's a journey through all of the classic dishes that Paul Bocuse invented during his career. Signature dishes like the truffle and foie gras soup and the whole Bresse chicken roasted in a pigs bladder (with more truffles). Signature dishes that were invented decades ago.

And therein lies the problem. You're paying to experience what eating in the 1970s must have been like. The restaurant even has the token coloured man who opens the door for you on arrival and spins the music box when it's someone's birthday or anniversary (yes, they wheel a cart into the dining room and play the music).

But maybe that's just me having a problem with this. I don't like “hokey” things. And here you're almost choking on them.

But what of the food? The legendary dishes that this man has been responsible. Well, they're good. I suppose. But I'm saying that with a tainted palate, because if I had been tasting those dishes in 1970 I would have definitely been blown away. There is no doubting that there are some great flavours on the plates they bring you. But the problem is that food has come so far since then. Chefs are using modern techniques and appliances to extract maximum flavour and perfect texture in a dish; they're pairing unfamiliar ingredients to create taste sensations. With all of that in mind, why do we need to pay tribute to the past? Why should Paul Bocuse continue to receive 3 stars when this food just isn't reflective of good food NOW?

It reminds me a lot of the debate in Sydney about Tetsuya's losing being demoted from three to two hats. Tetsuya's is one of Sydney's most important restaurants for the influence it has had in elevating Sydney cuisine to world standards. But it's still relying on the food that elevated us years ago. Maybe the demotion in Sydney happened because Australian's don't have the same regard for the past that the Europeans seem to?

After our so-so meal at il Convivio, we were speaking to a Roman who was saying that it's an important restaurant for the locals. Maybe it only has that Michelin star for that importance?

So who's right? The old world of Europe or the new world that Australia belongs to, where instant gratification is a seen as a birthright by some? Maybe the good meals I had in New York were also a symptom of that New World desire for constant evolution and constant improvement with no regard for the past?

Either way, Paul Bocuse just didn't cut it for me. The degustation concludes with an unlimited selection from a stunning selection of cheeses (all in stunning condition) and an unlimited number of desserts from the huge dessert cart, but it all just feels underwhelming and nothing close to what a skilled pastry chef can do if he/she pours his or her heart into a dish. I've had some stunning dessert courses in my short life, and an unlimited selection of old “standards” just isn't going to get a rise from me.

Maybe I'm too young to appreciate it? Hey, the dish of sole with a cream and tarragon sauce, tomato, mushrooms and pasta brought back some good memories of when I had fish in cream and tarragon sauce as a child. Maybe if I was eating stuff in 1970 then I'd appreciate it a bit more. But the fact is I wasn't. And while I did enjoy all of the food and respect the history behind the dishes, I left feeling underwhelmed and, with the menu never changing, absolutely no urge to return. I'll get some instant gratification elsewhere.


Michelin star count: 8

Tourin Turin (HEY THAT IS A REALLY CLICHED TITLE, MAN!)

We spent a couple of days in Torino, working our way up Italy and across into France. I was hoping to go to 2-starred Combal.Zero in nearby Rivoli for a bit of molecular gastronomy, but they never responded to my reservation request, so that was a bit of a let down (thanks guys!).

Uninspired by the restaurants around and inspired by the massive food hall across the road from the hotel, we ate dinner in the hotel room on both nights. On one hand, it was a shame not to be able to appreciate some of the local restaurants (especially during truffle season), but on the other hand, it was pretty great eating nothing but bread, amazing cheese (truffled peccorino, truffled brie, burrata, etc, etc, etc) and prosciutti for two nights and sinking a lot of local wine.

One thing I'm loving over here is that the quality of certain produce is just miles ahead what I can get in Sydney. Every cheese, in particular, is at it's peak of ripeness and has been handled well.

Everything is so fresh and vibrant. This was brought to a head on the afternoon I visited the huge open air market at the north of the city. What looked like hundreds of stalls were set up, selling everything seasonal you can imagine, red ripe tomatoes, juicy berries, just-arrived porcini mushrooms and fragrant herbs (all of which were somehow sweet). For a few euros I got a deliciously fresh lunch, topped off with an amazing pastry from one of the stalls.

Turin is a beautiful city with a huge history of stellar food and wine. I definitely want to come back one day and spend a bit more time there (particularly in the food markets).

Trussardi alla Scala

Sometimes it's the small things about different cities that really get you. Take Milan, for example. So impossible was it to find a shop that sells bottle openers, we find ourselves sitting in the hotel room, trying to open a rare bottle of dessert wine from Florence with a set of house keys.

It works. It tastes good.



Some say that Marco Polo stole noodles from the Chinese for the Italians. But that's totally untrue, because he actually stole prawn crackers.

Just like at Cracco last night, a bowl of vegetable and fish “prawn crackers” are placed on the table. They taste pretty much the same.

I'm at 2-star Trussardi alla Scala, sitting in probably the most comfortable chair of all time, eating prawn crackers, about to begin my first solo meal of the trip. Solo meals are always interesting because you become a lot more aware of everything that's happening around you and, more importantly, on the plate. Companionship can be ever so distracting.

I didn't do much research into this restaurant before booking. The menu looked nice and it seemed to have a pretty good reputation. One thing I realised I should have checked is what sort of food it actually serves up. Was the bowl of prawn crackers trying to tell me something? Was I in for another molecular experience tonight?

No, not really. Trussardi all Scala just does kick-arse food.

I think I realised it with the risotto with raw prawn. What a bloody great dish. A totally perfect risotto conceals slices of raw prawn. On top, a little sprinkling of sweet paprika (I think, or maybe sumac). Sounds plain—looks kind of plain—but each mouthful is utter heaven. Great texture, even greater flavour.

There were hints of them trying tricky things with the food—like the “fruit vegetables” or whatever they were (pickled fruit my the looks/tastes of it) with the tenderest of squid—but my favourite parts of the meal were when things stayed relatively simple. The spring lamb was one of those parts. A perfect chunk of lamb with perfectly fried potatoes and pieces of onion. It reminded me of a similar dish at il Convivio, and why that dish didn't work. Trussardi alla Scala got it spot on.

Dessert was an interesting affair. A globe/bubble of spun sugar sat over a pineapple parfait or something similar. Crack the dome and it releases a strong smell of smoke. Not bad at all. I like magic (I don't).

All up an impressive meal. It wasn't consistently strong as Cracco or Marque, but no dishes were weak and it definitely had its moments. What it was better for was the dining room (beautiful) and the more “Milanese” feel of the place (the dining room at Cracco didn't have many Italians). It was an excellent representation of this cosmopolitan city.


Michelin star count: 5

Cracco. Milan.

To say that I was a little nervous going into Cracco would be a little of an understatement. I had mentally prepared myself to be robbed of all of my money and to waste a few hours of my life on a pathetic dining experience, all in the name of this “quest”/”saga”.

There were some online reviews that were completely scathing and described, in great detail, terrible (and expensive) experiences at the restaurant. Gosh, it just sounded so terrible, guys!

So with a fair helping of trepidation we were ushered into the lift at Cracco by the maitre'd and raced him to the floor the dining room was on. The restaurant looked quite nice but was this going to be a case of style over substance, like most of the Milanese women walking around the city?

The menu has a small a la carte selection, a traditional tasting menu and a creative tasting menu, which uses the techniques that have made chef Carlo Cracco one of the respected members of the molecular gastronomy crowd. Of course, we had to go the creative menu (at 160e).

One of the most scathing of reviews that I saw mentioned receiving “dehydrated vegetables in a box” for one of their courses. “The type that you'd see as army rations.” That was the thing that worried me the most.

A plastic box of sun-dried vegetables was placed on the table.

And it was actually a nice way to start the meal. Take THAT mysterious online reviewer (show your face!)! (Show it now!) There was also a selection of fried vegetables and they were also nice. It was pretty satisfying eating a zucchini flower that was like a prawn cracker.

But what if every course was like this? Maybe the mysterious review was right! I don't want to eat dried vegetables all night. I want some substance. Was this going to descend into farce?


Dear Mysterious Online Reviewer (is that an anagram?),

In reply to your review of Ristorante Cracco in Milan, that of the 2 Michelin star and 70-somethingth in the San Pellegrino world top 100 restaurants fame, I am writing to inform you that your application to share an opinion has been declined. Unfortunately, the standard of opinions for this restaurant was quite high and while you paraded yourself as informed, you were so far from the mark that me and the girls in HR (Linda and Linda K) actually had a big laugh at it.

Your pal,
Ben


PS. What followed those dried and fried vegetables was nothing short of extraordinary.

While the watermelon, almond and sea thing was good; the sea urchin and parsley salad with anchovy oil a delicious expression of the sea; and the scallop pasta with mache deliciously simple in terms of flavour, I think it was the vanilla crème brulee with sea slug where I fell in love. Something may have been lost in translation, but did he really say the crème brulee was made by influsion water with octopus skin? I don't really care, because that dish was nothing short of extraordinary. A few salt flakes added the perfect touch.

PPS. There were too many dishes to run through them all, but nothing failed. Everything was at least good. Many were great. By the end of it we were completely exhausted. So much great food, so much wine.


I think the thing I enjoyed the most at Cracco was the balance. Salty and sweet was used perfectly to make you feel refreshed or indulged. Texture came into play every now and then just to change the direction of the meal. On top of that was the excellent ingredients used that allowed dishes to stay simple yet taste elegant. And yes there was a lot of molecular technique on display, but it never overshadowed the dish itself.

To say I was a little content walking out of Cracco is a little bit of an understatement. While it probably isn't at the pinnacle of restaurants I've dined at, it's way, way up there. For just under 300 euro a head, it's not bad value either. Take THAT, online reviewers.

Yours,
Online reviewer


Michelin star count: 3

(There's a) Firenze (in my pants)

After the somewhat disappointing culinary experience in Rome (although a glass of good cognac for 4 euros next to the Colosseum was rather excellent), I was a bit nervous about what Florence would have in store for me. Another poor experience could have solidified into a poor impression of Italian restaurants (well, those in tourist meccas). Thankfully, there was some relief.

On the first day we saw the first bad weather of the trip, with heavy showers for much of the afternoon. Good weather to stay in an eat. Lunch was nothing to write home about, a solid beef carpaccio, but the afternoon gave me my first good restaurant experience of the trip. Opposite the Palazzo Pitti is a tiny wine bar with only 12 or so seats. Being located opposite a tourist destination is usually not a great sign, so I was a little hesitant when I walked in.

An aperitivo to start--a crisp sparkling wine. Then into the business end of things. One of the “super Tuscan” reds and a cheese plate with a selection of Tuscan cheeses. Great wine, even greater cheese plate. A truffled peccorino was the highlight, but every other cheese on the plate was tremendous. After polishing off the glass of red (served in a mini decanter, cute) they gave me a try of one of the more classic Tuscan wines to try. Very different in flavour, but a fantastic expression of sangiovese. To finish, a delicious glass of cool vin santo and a brisk walk home in the rain with no umbrella.

Dinner was a little less successful. With no restaurant shortlisted, I had trouble finding something open on a Monday that looked good. I eventually found two opposite each other, but one ended up being closed and the other full. We walked around for a while, looking for something acceptable (it took a while). Eventually, we stumbled into a small pizza restaurant and, while it wasn't extraordinary, it was still very enjoyable. Solid pizza, nice insalata caprese, okay crostini misti and a very enjoyable tiramisu. For 20 euro, no complaints at all.

Day two in Florence and I was hoping to try some of the steak that the region is famous for. That didn't quite happen. I started with a stroll around the city, picking up a great coffee and almond cookie along the way, before stumbling on to a food market. If I had access to a kitchen then I would have bought a tremendous amount of the delicious looking cheese (oh buffalo mozzarella, you haunt my dreams), prosciutti and vegetables. Nearby there was also a stall selling the traditional tripe sandwiches. I was tempted to get one, but couldn't will myself into it.

So I headed over to a restaurant called il Latini, that does a brisk trade with locals and tourists alike. I was sat on a table with a tourist couple and four old local men. It was one of the first time that I really wished I spoke Italian, because the men ate, drank and joked with everyone (that spoke Italian).

The restaurant is popular for good reason. Delicious prosciutto, handmade pasta, roast beef with potatoes (wow! Excellent texture and flavour of the beef, perfectly roasted potatoes) and good, simple desserts. It wasn't cheap, but it was delicious.

Filled with renewed faith in food/table wine, I headed back to the market to get a tripe sandwich. But that wasn't to be: they'd just sold out.

In the afternoon I became annoyed that I hadn't had any gelato yet in Italy. So I went in search. First up Gelato Pecche No? For a cup of amaretto and chocolate. Very good, but hardly the mind-blowing experience I was hoping for from Italian gelato. Next stop Vivoli, one of the more famous places. Here we go! Seasonal flavours, artisan methods, stacks of annoying tourists. Caramelised orange and chocolate was utterly sensational, with the orange melting in the mouth and combining with the rich chocolate. Also another flavour featuring candied ginger that was quite solid. Lastly, to Grom, which had the biggest queues. Incredible. Caramelised pear was perfectly balanced, refreshing, yet rich, but not overly sweet. And the crema de Grom, a mix of many good things. Rich, but, again, not overly sweet.

Dinner time and it's off to Trattiora Cibreo, a cheaper version of the restaurant next door. This is where I start to question things. We start with delicious crostini misti and mozzarella, follow it with beautifully simple polenta with oil and cheese and a hugely flavoured fish soup. For secondi, a fish carpaccio with a lively topping that made every bite both refreshing and satisfying, and a really good, simple chicken meatball dish. Sides of roasted carrot and a bean dip were also satisfying. To finish, good, but not extraordinary, chocolate tart, cheesecake and pannacotta. All up, a hugely enjoyable meal of simple, honest, traditional food.

I should have been overjoyed, but I was having a dilemma.

Back in Sydney that would have been a tremendous meal and the restaurant would have immediately become one of my favourites. But here... How is this for an Italian restaurant in Italy? Would a local have seen this as overpriced for such simple food? A restaurant for tourists? For me, this was great food, but I haven't had that much “great” Italian food so what do I know? I could say that it was a great restaurant and be completely wrong. And that means I could also be wrong about the other restaurants I go to. Taste is always subjective, but there is an element of objectivity to it. A good restaurant is a good restaurant. But maybe il Convivio was great FOR Romans? Maybe it played off THEIR tastes, not mine? More though (and more food) is required.


But that wasn't the only thing on my mind.

With the language/outsider barrier, I was worried that it was limiting my dining experiences. These cities are big tourist destinations, so they're experienced in dealing with my “type” (tall, slim, dark hair, good taste in music, obsession with food). In a couple of restaurants we've been seated in different sections to the locals. Just a way of making sure the bilingual staff are given that section, or something more sinister? How many times have I been ripped off so far? I suppose I'm playing the paranoid tourist thing to an extent, but it can't be totally irrational. Again, more thought and more eating is required.


For now, on the train to Milan. Tonight, dinner at two-star Cracco. Tomorrow night, dinner at two-star Trussardi alla Scala. While Cracco has the two Michelin stars and is ranked in the San Pellegrino world top 100 restaurants, I've seen some mixed reviews--particularly from tourists--so this could be interesting.

il Convivio

One Michelin star to rule them all kick things off.

I'd missed out on getting a booking at a few other Michelin-starred restaurants around Rome so it was il Convivio that had the honour of being the first cab off the rank for this idiotic celebration of overconsumption.

I had no idea what to expect and was looking forward to this place giving me some insight into how this trip was going to pan out. Would the food blow me away or would the food just blow?

il Convivio definitely didn't blow me away.

The restaurant is beautiful, the service is quite polished (but needs the touch of a good sommelier to inject knowledge and better pairings), but the food just didn't do it for me.

We kicked things off with a quick appetiser: fried olive and white fish fritter. Nice enough.

Into the menu proper and it never really took off. Red mullet with pear and truffle sounded interesting but didn't do much. A prawn fritter with an oyster mayonnaise and a salad of potato, tomato and something else was nice but the sort of thing you'd except to find in an upmarket fish and chip shop. Spaghetti with razor clams and something green had some good flavours but the razor clam disappeared in the dish.

There was finally a great dish with the porcini meatballs with sweetbreads and green beans. These were the sort of flavours I was hoping for from a higher-end Italian restaurant.

Unfortunately, it was followed with a so-so dish of steak with shaved truffle, roasted onion and potatoes. Nice, but it was closer to home cooking than fine dining. Same deal with the dessert of a fried calzone filled with ricotta and pistachio.

It's certainly a nice "experience" restaurant, but the food just doesn't match the decor and the service, so I was left feeling a bit hollow.


No more Michelin starred places for another few days, until we get through Florence and into Milan, so I'll be getting stuck into some good cheap and mid-range places in the meantime. Florence is apparently well known for its steak, so there will be a bit of that happening.

The next Michelin-starred place is Cracco in Milan, carrying 2 stars. It's also #71 in the San Pellegrino world's top 100 restaurants. I'm a bit worried about that one, having seen mixed reviews, but it should be another good learning experience.


Michelin star tally: 1

On Rome, Roscioli Restaurant

At first, I thought I was going to really dislike Rome (or Roma, as they say in the native language, American).

We touched down on a steamy day and headed through the traffic-choked streets to our hotel near Termini, Rome's main train station. Stepping outside for our first meal (lunch) we were greeted with a vista of tourist traps. We walked for around thirty minutes, trying to find something that looked semi decent. It wasn't happening. Eventually we stumbled into a small bar and got some simple but tasty panini. But if every meal was going to be that hard and every road filled with confused English women then I didn't think I was going to like Rome much.

Later that night, my faith in Rome (Catholic; I like to adapt) was restored with a home cooked meal from a real live Roman. Carbonara, which was so simple and delicious compared to the cream-laden version that we see most often in Sydney, with lightly fried chunks of pancetta from the cheek offering an explosion of flavourful fat with every bite and a crisp, dry white wine from Abbruzzo washing everything down nicely. It was followed with a huge selection of salumi and ham, cheeses and fruit. Our host spoke so passionately about the food, often bringing up a topic like chocolate, only to disappear into the kitchen with something new to try. Or a handful of kittens. That was rather unexpected.


After a morning spent walking around Rome (dear Rome: enough with all of the things to see, okay) we were pretty hungry. We headed through the Campo di Fiori--a market packet with fresh food, meat, cheese, truffles and other produce--and towards a place I'd heard about: Roscioli.

From what I understand, Roscioli is a deli selling a huge selection of awesome things (meat, cheese, vinegar) which is related to a nearby bakery. At the back of the deli is a restaurant that serves up all of this goodness.

Things of goodness: Salumi, prosciutto, cheese, bread, wine.

If you like said things of goodness then Roscioli is for you.

We got a selection of Italian cheeses (piave de alpeggio, parmigiano reggiano, two types of stravecchio), a selection of black pork prosciutto and a selection of lardo. To wash it down, a crisp sparkling white. Plus some bread from the bakery.

Now, a word of warning. That's a lot of fat.

Ignore the warnings and enjoy. All I can really say is the bread was delicious, the cheese fantastic, the lardo addictive and the black pork prosciutto is now my wife (sorry to disappoint you, ladies). How can something be so good? You bite it, and the cured fat of the prosciutto bursts in the mouth. It's like it's been fried BUT IT HASN'T IT JUST EXPLODES.

Not cheap, not expensive, very good. Although I fear that I may never be able to eat normal prosciutto in Australia again.


Tonight, it's off to il Convivio to get the first Michelin star out of the way.

Yardsticking: Marque and Sepia

It's all well and good for me to fly over to foreign destinations and eat foreign destination food and say "hey, this foreign destination food is nice!" but it's kind of useless if I don't have anything to compare it to.

Don't get me wrong--I've eaten at a lot of Sydney's best restaurants, eaten at some of Melbourne's notable names, and eaten my way through New York's fine dining institutions--but it doesn't provide a clear comparison to what I'm going to be eating in a few weeks (days?).

I saw a definition of the Sydney Morning Herald Good Food Guide's hats the other day, which provided the comparison I needed:

3 chef hats is supposed to be on par with the best in the world and 2 hats are worthy of a detour, which is pretty much the same definition that gets applied to the Michelin stars.

Great, then hats should equal Michelin stars. Unless the Sydney Morning Herald is lying to me. And they wouldn't lie to me, would they?

I've eaten at a good amount of the hatted restaurants, but I needed something fresh in my mind. Thankfully, this week was time for the 2011 Good Food Guide awards and hats to be handed out.

Chef of the Year, and upgrade from 1 to 2 hats: Martin Benn at Sepia.
Restaurant of the Year, one of only 3 remaining 3-hat restaurants: Marque.

I should go to them.

So I did.



I'd had the business lunch at Sepia beforeand was keen to go back and try other options.

Once again, the service was flawless. I love that it puts out serious, serious food, but you walk in and feel right at home.

Started with the steak tartare, which was pretty much great. Topped with soft-boiled quail eggs for a bit of added lusciousness. I polished that off without too much trouble.

Then the kitchen sent out a spanner crab and buckwheat "risotto", which was topped with what tasted like a bouillabaisse foam. An excellent dish, an explosion of flavour and a real excitement as far as texture goes.

The main was mulloway with asparagus and a sauce I didn't pay attention to. It was nice, but just like the steak main last time, didn't blow me away.

$55 for all of that was top value, but next time I go back it will be for the degustation. I don't think I can pass judgement on Sepia until I've tasted it at full flight.


When the awards were being presented, I decided that I was going to try and get a booking at the restaurant of the year the night before leaving for Europe. I was secretly hoping that the restaurants I had no chance of getting a table at with so short notice wouldn't win. If the likes of Rockpool of Quay had won I was going to go to Sepia for dinner.

But Marque won, didn't it.

I called the restaurant as soon as I saw it announced on Twitter and was a little surprised when I got a table without too much fuss.

So I hauled my fat arse up Albion Street tonight after work and took a seat in Marque, sweating profusely.

What was I expecting from Marque? I was expecting it to be very good. Great even. But I didn't think it was going to be better than the meals I had at Quay and Bilson's, which were spectacular.

I was so, so, so wrong.

It started off well with the Alain Passard (he of 3-star l'Arpege, where I'll be eating at in Paris) chaud-froud egg. An uncomplicated starter that fired up the tongue.

2 dishes followed, and they were real "wow" moments (yes, apparently they do exist). Almond jelly with blue swimmer crab was just a delight of texture. Soft, creamy, yet slightly unyielding. And then there was the cured bonito with smoked foie gras. Fuck me, what a combination. A bit of lardo to add smokiness and gherkin to provide crispness to cut the richness of the fish and foie gras. Just wow.

At this point I was thinking it was downhill.

Next up, scampi cooked in what appeared to be a heavily spiced butter, with roasted baby cos lettuce and lemon curd. I tried the scampi, too buttery almost, but still tasting of scampi despite the heavy spicing, which was good. The roasted cos, yep, nice, okay. The lemon curd, tart. But put all of them together and it was nothing short of extraordinary. The lemon curd cut through the buttery scampi PERFECTLY (emphasis) and the roasted cos added a nice smokey flavour. This dish was so perfectly executed that I shook my head in disbelief.

At this point I'm going to stop being so effusive and finish in dot point form:
- Then vegetables in a ham consomme with pea dust. Genius. I tried to deconstruct a pea and ham soup a while ago and failed. This succeeds.
- Roast duck with a sort of reassembled eggplant and yoghurt. On their own, nice (perfect duck, the best I've ever had?), together amazing. Amazing.
- Amazing.

And it just kept coming. There were more courses, every single one of them was incredible. No meal had every delivered so many perfect dishes. Every course was a wow moment.

The venison with beetroot. Did he read my mind? I wanted to make that dish but had no idea how to approach it. It was like Mark Best was cooking my dreams.

The optional/addition cheese and truffle course? You have to get that.

What Marque are doing is profound (homoerotic phrase?). The dishes aren't overcomplicated like a lot of other restaurants. There are a few elements on the plate, but they work so, so perfectly.

This is Australian cuisine right now. There were nods to molecular, nods to France, to Spain, there was a casual dining feel to it, there were the nods to tradition, the Australian "thing" of putting seemingly incongruent flavours together.

I've had great meals in Australian restaurants, but they didn't get it this good. Every dish was exactly how it should be.



As I left, one of the waiters (excellent, no-fuss service from everyone) asked me if I enjoyed my meal.

I worry that I enjoyed it TOO much.

How can food be better than that? I can't fathom it.

Am I about to blow wads of cash on inferiority, just to confirm my suspicions that the best meal in the world is a 10 minute drive away?

The Restaurants

So I finally have enough restaurants booked to pass 35 stars/send me bankrupt 4 times over. There are a couple I'm waiting on/am trying to fit in, but this is the list that got me over the line:

3 Stars:
Guy Savoy - Paris, France
l'Arpege - Paris, France
Paul Bocuse - Lyon, France
Taillevent - Paris, France

2 Stars:
Cracco - Milan, Italy (#77, San Pellegrino Top 50)
l'Assiette Champenoise - Tinqueux (Reims), France
l'Atelier de Joel Robuchon - Paris, France (#29, San Pellegrino Top 50)
La Terrazza del Casino Madrid - Madrid, Spain
Lasarte - Barcelona, Spain
Le Cinq - Paris, France
Michel Rostang - Paris, France
Senderens - Paris, France
Trussardi alla Scalla - Milan, Italy

1 Star:
Auberge du Lion d'Or - Geneva, Switzerland
Comerc24 - Barcelona, Spain
Il Convivio - Rome, Italy
le Pressoir d'Argent - Bordeaux, France
Petit Celadon - Paris, France
Restaurant Tavares - Lisbon, Portugal

36 stars all up. There are another 6 stars I'm trying to work in (every man needs a buffer) but that could pan out either way.


Some of the main ones I tried to get but couldn't:
Alain Ducasse au Plaza Athenee - Paris, France - 3 stars
Enoteca Pinchiorri - Florence, Italy - 3 stars
il Pagliaccio - Rome, Italy, 2 stars
La Pergola - Rome, Italy - 3 stars

And a bunch of others I knew I have zero chance of getting with short (one month of human years) notice.

I have also set up a "yardstick", which will be unveiled tomorrow, after I consume said yardstick (a homoerotic phrase?).

ARTICLE: Stars In The Eyes

Flights are booked. Some of the hotels are booked. Still need to book transfers and look into tours. We’re a just over a month away from starting a five week trip around Europe and all I can think about is booking restaurants.

I blame New York.

For the New York trip earlier this year I left the restaurant booking a bit late, which caused me to miss out on a few places I was keen on going to. I’m also haunted, quite irrationally, by memories of walking around the city, trying to find a place to eat that looked “acceptable” (not many did). If I book every meal in advance this time around then I’ll have a worry-free holiday. Surely?



I should backtrack a little. The hotels are booked for most places because we’ve decided what country and city we’ll be in on each day of the five weeks. Allocating days to cities became an intense political process. Lines were drawn and few concessions were given. I started off deciding based on cities and countries that would be interesting to visit. You know, like a normal person would when confronted by Europe for the first time. But, all too quickly, I started preferring cities and countries that would deliver me some killer food.

I blame New York. I got way more enjoyment out of looking at a menu than I did from looking at an old building (or, from a height, a lot of buildings at once). The better memories I have are of the food. Like the passionfruit and foie gras “egg” at WD-50, the langoustine with mache, wild mushrooms and shaved foie gras at Le Bernadin and, fuck it, the entire meal at Momofuku Ko.

So France was a must and it’s no surprise that 11 of our 35 days will be spent there, with nearly half of that time dedicated to Paris. 11 days to sample what represents probably a century of dominance of the culinary landscape. It doesn’t feel like enough, but it’ll have to do.

Italy didn’t interest me too much to begin with, but with such a rich history of food and wine, it got a hell of a lot more interesting when I looked into it. 9 days there.

If it hasn’t already, Spain is on the verge of overtaking France as the gastronomic centre of the Earth. After sampling the past in Italy and France, Spain will drag me into the future. 8 days there, split between Barcelona, Zaragoza and Madrid.

With a few days left, a bit of traditional holidaying sounded like a good idea (you know the ones, where you see shit?). That brought Portugal and the Netherlands into the game, although Portugal is starting to look like a good way to spend a few days drinking port and eating salt cod. Add to that a lunch in Geneva and a day in Frankfurt before leaving and you have 35 days.

So how was I going to fill 35 days worth of meals? It’s a problem that has plagued mankind for centuries/me for a few weeks. I needed a guide, so my first two stops were the San Pellegrino Top 50 restaurants in the world (which is actually 100 restaurants) and the historic (if somewhat less reliable) Michelin Guide. They gave me the starting points, and online food sites plugged the gaps.

I’m not sure how it happened, or why it happened, but I think both did fairly organically. The end result was a goal. A goal to consume 35 Michelin stars in 35 days. Not to eat at 35 Michelin starred restaurants, that seemed rather pointless, but to eat at enough 1, 2 and 3-starred places so as to accumulate 35 (oh, yeah, that’s way more reasonable, Ben).

I didn’t set out to do it, but along the way it was becoming clear that I was going to go pretty close to that mark. So why not aim for it? Societies have been built from simple goals. I’m totes going to create a society with my high tolerance for cholesterol-laden dishes!

Why it happened is easier to explain: it happened because I remembered the regret after New York. I missed eating at Daniel, I missed eating at Nobu. I didn’t even eat at a steakhouse! Am I some kind of freak? Never again.

So I got going and it got damn hard. Restaurants we’re already booked out, Alain Ducasse at the Plaza Athenee was closed for a private function—some sort of celebration dinner for the ISO 9001 organisation (is it an organisation?)—some restaurants only took bookings on certain dates, most restaurants are closed Sunday and Money, Google was conspiring to defeat me by sending emails from top restaurants to my spam folder (have you no taste, Google you fuck?), where was I going to find time for the non-starred gustatory experiences, blah blah blah. I was struggling to lock in 35 stars.



Days out from departing and I still don’t have 35 stars locked in. Even if I do lock 35 stars in, what’s to stop the likes of Paul Bocuse and Joel Robuchon from forgetting my booking? What if I miss an important confirmation call? It’s doomed, it’s all doomed. In the most delicious, excessive way doom can be possible.

So what am I hoping to achieve from this taste-budinal assault? A taste of now, of 2010. I could be tasting the decline of French fine dining and catching one of the first waves of Spain’s dominance at the top. In a few years, everything will have changed and the culinary landscape will look completely different, but I will have tasted a point in time.

I also see it as the end of part of a quest. After years of worshipping food and only be able to dream of saying my prayers in a French haute temple, or repenting sins over a bowl of handmade pasta in Rome, I will finally get the chance. Part of me is worried that my expectations of amazing food will be crushed—that I’ll spend an insane amount of money only to discover that Sydney is nearly as good—but, fuck it, there’s only one way to find out. And if that way is paved with bricks of foie gras and twitchingly-fresh local produce then I’m down.

ARTICLE: On Hunger

Where did this all start?

I’m sitting alone in one of New York’s restaurants, spending nearly $500 on a meal. I won’t be going to the Empire State Building during the two weeks I have at my disposal. I did the same thing at another restaurant the night before, after doing the same thing for lunch at another restaurant. I’m not travelling alone, but I am dining alone, because my travelling companion doesn’t share my enthusiasm.

Was I born with this inclination?

I have a small wooden tub in front of me. It’s filled with a soft, triple cream cheese from France that contains a molten, buttery centre beneath the rind. I’ll eat the whole thing myself with nothing but the aid of a baguette.

Did something put me on this course?

I have spent an entire day in the kitchen, making a few things. For no one in particular. For no reason in particular.

Was it a combination of things?

I’m laying in bed, wondering what brought me to this point. It’s a point that a lot of other people are at. What, on Earth, possessed us to become “foodies”? It’s a horrible term when self-applied, yet an accurate descriptor for many people: people that happily spend hours in the kitchen when most others are out socialising; that happily spend all of their disposable income on food, when most people see it as a one-in-a-while treat; that feel an emotive response when confronted with the sight of a new restaurant, when most simply regard it as part of the ebb and flow of life.

Nature versus nurture is a term that springs to mind. Was I born “This Way” or did I become what I am today?

My earliest memory of food is standing in my family home with my babysitter. I don’t remember her name and I don’t remember what she looked like. She was young, I was younger. Five, maybe? We were in the kitchen. It was an odd kitchen; small, rapidly becoming dated. She was showing me how to make my own pizzas. First, toast some bread. Then add some tomato sauce, some dried oregano from the spice rack, some toppings (whatever was in the fridge) and some grated cheese. Place it under the grill. It was a revelation. I could make this whenever I wanted. This pizza—this thing that was so immediately satisfying—could be minem whenever I wanted it.

I can remember the food. I can remember her showing me. But I don’t remember her. Is that telling?

A few years later and my sisters have been born. A different babysitter is on the scene. I think her name is Jackie. I must be around 7 or 8. I dislike her a little because she has been employed to babysit my sisters, yet she still wants to know where I am at all times. Yet I adore her because she makes food that excites me. I remember the butterfly cakes: sponge cupcakes with cream, sponge cake wings and (sometimes) jam. Chocolate éclairs that would explode in my mouth. I swear I could have eaten a thousand of them. Marble cakes that astounded me because I was too young to understand the physics behind them. And roasts that, in my memory banks, are better executed than anyone in history. I remember her as old and quite overweight, hardly fit to care for young children. Was she kept on by my parents because of her cooking skills?

11 or 12 now. I have a group of friends that I see most days after school. For some reason, food is a part of how we interact. Sausage rolls after school become a ritual, like an after work beer. There are eating challenges. The once-dull confectionary landscape of frogs and musk sticks is being flooded with new brands and new sensations. One afternoon, everyone is over at my place. 2 minute noodles have become a part of our identity because we can make them ourselves. I make a batch for everyone, but add (for no reason) some herbs from my parents’ spice rack. Chives, I think. I feel excitement as I present them to my friends. Another time and we’re playing snooker. Non-alcoholic champagne (sparkling grape juice) has become an obsession for us. While we play snooker in the games room, I take an ice bucket from my parents’ alcohol cabinet and fill it with ice for our bottle of grape juice. We drink it from champagne flutes and feel grown up.

For some reason, I don’t have many food memories for a few years. But this changes tremendously when I’m 21. University has finished and I haven’t been able to immediately find a job. I find myself spending a lot of time watching television, and the shows that I gravitate to most are cooking shows. Jamie Oliver, Nigella Lawson, Iron Chef, Ian Hewitson and a host of others. I’m not sure what it was that drew me to shows of this nature. Perhaps it was the way they would stir hunger within me. But it wasn’t just the appetite. I would remember stupid facts about the food, like adding salt to garlic in a mortar and pestle would make it more abrasive and help it break down.

After many months of this obsessive watching I went on holidays with a friend to Melbourne. It wasn’t meant to be about anything remotely similar to food, but it was there where I had my true culinary awakening. We ate at restaurants that looked interesting and relished in the new flavours and delights that we ate. Looking back, it was always there, but it was here where food became truly thrilling. Laksa, Greek lamb, Vietnamese pho, it was all so damn good.

It was also where food’s accompaniment was introduced to me: wine. I’d never really been a wine drinker before this point. But a tour through the Yarra Valley, involving a lot of tastings, showed me that different varietals can be so... different. A bottle of fortified red wine blew me away, as did a sweet sparkling wine. I took them home and drank them with vigour, swearing that they tasted even better this time around. Before long I was subscribing to wine sites to get recommendations and going through bottles of various origin and style, consuming knowledge and fermented grapes in the process.

Five years after that and it’s become an obsession. Weekends are spent cooking recipes from all countries; celebrations and anniversaries are punctuated by fine food and wine; and far too much disposable income is spent in restaurants and bottle shops. It feels like I’m on a quest to find the perfect bite, or the perfect sip. But the more you have the more you realise that there probably isn’t such a thing; it’s more about experiencing gastronomy at a particular point in time. Restaurant menus will be different in ten years and wines will taste a little different. But the present can be consumed.

RESTAURANT: Bodega

Don’t tell the other Spanish restaurants in Sydney, but Bodega is putting out tapas that is putting everyone else to shame. In fact, don’t tell anyone. Because once you experience Bodega you’ll want to keep it to yourself.

Arrive at 6PM On The Dot because you don’t want to miss out on a table. And this isn’t like Spice I Am where you can wait and be assured that they’ll push someone out the door as soon as the final bite of food enters the throat. No, the staff at Bodega will actually let you linger (digest) for a few minutes.

You can sit at the bar and watch the chefs show off their knife skills, pretending you’re at a local tapas bar in Spain; You can snare a table and try to create your own world amid the chaos around you; Or you can perch yourself on a stool in front of the window and watch the Surry Hills hipsters parade their new t-shirt by, wearing gruff expressions because they left their run to Bodega too late.

Wherever you sit, you have to order the scallops, morcilla (blood sausage), cauliflower and cabbage. With some brick pastry providing the crunch, this dish is a perfect blend of texture and flavour. It may be a subtle dish as far as ingredients go, but the subtlety explodes in your mouth. This is a dish that would find a home at any restaurant. So to would the steamed pork belly with onions and shitake mushrooms. The pork belly is so soft you could eat it with a spoon. Pork fat sliding down my throat has never been so appetising; so sensual.

Fish fingers is an interesting dish. Kingfish sashimi and cuttlefish ceviche on garlic toast. Modern, fresh, robust, perfectly balanced. Australian tapas as it’s best. Slamming home that point is the butifarra (white sausage) with a soft-poached egg and chicharrones. Texture and luxury fill the mouth with every bite.

While other (inferior) tapas places in Sydney may be fun with sangria, the wine at Bodega can’t be missed. A concise but excellent selection of mid-range Spanish and Argentinean bottles.

This is eating and drinking for grown-ups.

If the food and wine wasn’t good enough, the staff are fantastic, the restaurant is funky as all hell and the prices are quite good (considering the quality).

Just don’t tell anyone.


RATING: Will constantly return to [?]

RESTAURANT: This Isn't Tetsuya's

It's a cold July night and 6 people are gathered in an Eastern Suburbs flat. The reason for this synchronised gathering? Food. Of course. Or, more specifically, a celebration of winter food.

We've all responded to a menu posted online. The rules were clear: no changes will be made to the menu for allergies, first in best dressed, strictly 6 seats up for grabs and cancellations resulting in a ban for a number of future events. In short, it's a pop-up restaurant cum seasonal feast cum social experiment. A small number of people, brought together by food, placed in a small, contained environment for a few hours. With a suggested donation being a nominal amount for the amount and quality of food on offer, the event is an ultimate social equaliser. Truly anyone can participate (provided you have the right connections, of course).

This Isn't Tetsuya's was created by the inventor/chef as way of sharing the goodness of the season with people he mixes with. Couple this with some curious beverage matches for the food, season-themed music and numerous courses and you have an almost paganistic tribute to the season at hand. The creator aims to hold a This Isn't Tetsuya's event every season, using the same rules that we played by this time.

And what of the food? When we arrive we're given appetisers of olives; grilled artichoke and persian fetta bruschetta; and wagyu and mashed pea tarts. This is washed down with the TIT1 (the name of the event) official cocktail of fernet branca (an Italian bitters) and ginger beer. Also on offer is some sparkling wine and a selection of curious beers.

Seats are taken for the first course: a take on pea and ham soup. Pea and porcini broth with mashed peas, a poached egg, oven dried prosciutto and truffle oil. This is matched with a blanc de blanc sparkling wine from Tasmania. It's a clear picture of winter that empties our minds and prepares us for the meal.

Next up is a dish named "Marco Pollo", the chefs take on the misconception that Marco Polo stole pasta from the Chinese for the Italians. Smoked chicken (pollo being chicken in Italian), roasted chestnuts, cabbage and broccolini sit with a piece of gnocchi in a bold, Chinese-style sauce. Probably my dish of the night. A harmonious union of east and west. This was matched with a Petis Chablis.

Also popular was the main course, Greek-style, slow-roasted lamb shoulder served with roasted seasonal vegetables, a tzatziki made from cheese, mache and a reduction of the cooking juices. The lamb was mercilessly soft, falling apart at the touch. The Paringa Estate Pinot Noir which accompanied it was a fantastic wine.

Before dessert we were given a palate cleanser that took the form of a warm sangria, filled with seasonal fruits. Almost like a mulled wine, it was comforting and refreshing at the same time.

Finally, we were given a dessert called "hot chocolate for breakfast". A dark chocolate tart sat with cereal milk mousse, roasted marshmallows, cornflake praline and hot chocolate jelly. An interesting dish which conjured up the memories of eating bad things at the wrong time of the day when you should know better. Matching this was a beer. The chocolate stout from American craft brewer Rogue.

We all finished digesting the meal over a few more beers and glasses of wine and then disappeared into the cold winter's night, in different directions, possibly never to meet again.

RESTAURANT: House

It was one sentence in the SMH's Good Living liftout that sent my heart racing. Sujet Saenkham, one of the founding chefs of the legendary Spice I Am, was opening a new street food style Thai restaurant in Surry Hills. I emailed all of my friends, instantly receiving responses along the lines of "when are we going?" At the same time I was scouring the internet for any tidbit of information I could find, re-reading the only review I could find a good dozen times.

But my friends would have to wait. I was arranging a dinner with other people and we were wondering where to go. I mentioned House, and it was immediately agreed.

To say expectations were high on that first visit was an understatement. I was expecting it to be as good as Spice I Am, one of Sydney's best and most loved cheap eats.

But it didn't disappoint. There was a salted crab salad. Similar to a green papaya salad but with pieces of what appear to be uncooked soft shell crab, with the shell on. With a crunch, the taste of the sea explodes into your mouth. It's like being dumped by a wave at the beach; unexpected, salty, somewhat thrilling. This is followed up by the tangy, spicy, salty/sweet salad that returns balance before the next bite.

There was jaew bong, a pungent, extremely spicy paste made from fermented anchovies, shallots, garlic, chilli and a few other things. It's a taste I can't remember ever experiencing. It comes with some green beans, cucumbers, apple eggplant and bamboo shoots to alleviate the burn.

There were the chicken skewers. Similar to satay, but richer, a little more piquant.

There was the dried and then fried pork with the dipping sauce. Like eating the crunchy bits on your roast beef. And there was the soup, hiding huge chunks of galangal, ginger, chicken and other flavourings. While it was impossible to eat the chunks of roots, the flavour of the soup was outstanding.

There was the grilled chicken with a similar dipping sauce to the fried pork. Succulent and perfectly grilled. I'll never look at a Portuguese chicken the same way.

And then there was the BTS. It's not on the dessert menu, so they come over and explain it, almost too embarrassed to mention that it stands for Better Than Sex. The claim requires some investigation, but it certainly comes close. Pandang ice cream sits atop a huge cube of fried brioche and hides small slices of coconut flesh. Over the top is poured a palm sugar syrup and a sprinkling of toasted sesame seeds. I don't know if this is authentic Thai, like the rest of the menu, but good lord it's a fantastic dessert. After the relentless heat of the chilli, the pandang ice cream soothes, while the toasted brioche, smothered in the palm sugar syrup, is one of those "so good I don't care how bad for me it is" things.

On the non-food side of things, at the moment House isn't as crowded as Spice I Am. It's less cramped in parts (as the restaurant is far bigger), and there are alcoholic drinks available, courtesy of the adjoining bar.


Not to let my friends miss the opportunity, we scheduled a visit a week later. Of course, I was only going because further research was required...

There were a couple of repeats from the last time--the grilled chicken, the jaew bong--but this time instead of the dried/fried pork, there was the dried/fried beef. A bit chewier, but still very moreish.

There was the mackerel paste that was similar to the jaew bong (but fishier, not as pleasingly pungent). Also missing the mark a little was the banana leaf curry. With so many intense dishes, the milder flavoured dishes just don't stack up as much. The duck larb suffers a similar fate.

But there's the discovery of the fermented sausage. There is also the deep fried fish with shallots, nuts and other things.

The normal green papaya salad is a little dull compared with the salted crab version, but the crispy anchovy version comes pretty close with the texture adding an element to the dish. The version with fermented noodles is also excellent.

Once again, the BTS follows. No one really has the room for dessert, but there are two of us that have had the BTS before, and we insist on it. We all have it, we all love it.

We leave stuffed, but pleased, endorphins surging through our body from the spice.


A few days later and an impromptu dinner. House is suggested and I don't argue. With around 50 items on the menu, there is still more to try.

There's the pork roll salad. Similar to the green papaya salad but with a processed pork meat similar to devon. Nice enough.

The fried/dried beef and pork has been done, but the grilled pork neck and marinated beef strips haven't. They're promptly ordered, along with the chicken skewers.

Again, the jaew bong is present. But this time it's so fiery it's almost unpalatable.

Again, we have no room. But, again, the BTS is to conclude the menu.



I'm loving House.

I'm loving that there are dishes here that I've never had before, and that I can't find anywhere else. Is it authentic? Is it a good interpretation of the classic dish? I don't know and I don't care.

I can't wait for summer when the courtyard calls my name with the promise of excellent Thai food and cold beers.

I avoided Spice I Am on occasions because if you didn't turn up at 6 you had to wait for a table, and even once you got in you were cramped and forced out as soon as you were finished.

House won't always be at such a comfortable level of patronage, but with food that won't please a lot of people (with conservative palates), I hold out hope that it will be there for a long time to come.

There's another jewel in the crown of Sydney Thai food.


RATING: Will constantly return to [?]

RESTAURANT: Berta

After much anticipation, the new creation from the team that brought us Vini has arrived. Berta is a somewhat hard-to-find, smallish winebar in the Surry Hills end of the city. Wines (Italian origin) are served by the bottle, glass and tasting glass, allowing you to drink in any which way you want. The menu appears to change regularly and is a little bit better than just your average bar snacks (bit a little bit, I mean a lot).

We get in fairly early to beat the rush and, being so spoilt for choice that we have no idea what wine or food to order, we opt for the banquet menu with matching wines. It's a great idea and takes us through 6 or 7 of the dishes on the menu, each matched with a tasting glass of wine. For around $60, the food is simple, great value, packed with flavour and accompanies the wine well.

The wines that were matched to the food were on the cheaper side of things and weren't that great, but that was to be expected for 6/7 glasses that cost around the $40 in total. So I think next time I'll instead opt for a bottle of something decent to accompany the food, and there wasn't a shortage of that on the wine list.

Service is warm and the room, while a tad noisy when full, is well designed. My one gripe is that the tables were too close together. I think there was 10cm between our table at the next, meaning it was only possible to get past to leave or go to the bathroom by making them shift their table over and brush past.

Next time I'm in the mood for some Italian wine and hearty food in a casual setting I'll be sure to head to Berta.


RATING: Will return to [?]

RESTAURANT: Thainabox

There are plenty of Thai restaurants in Parramatta, but this is one of the better for a simple meal. Select yout type of noodles, toppings and style of dish (Thai, Malay, etc) and they'll cook it up for you.

Quick, simple, tasty and well-priced. A good lunchtime destination.

RATING: Okay, will probably return to [?]

RESTAURANT: Miss Chu

It had started with a recommendation about some dumplings we needed to try which, as far as I'm concerned, is a great way to start anything.

Miss Chu is a Darlinghurst-based catering company serving up delicious sounding Asian (predominately Vietnamese) finger food. But every weekday, the kitchen opens up and operates as a hawker style cafe.

Oh, and it's pretty damn good.

Great balance of ingredients in the rice paper rolls, where some places go a bit too heavy on the bean sprouts. Steamed dim sum-style dumplings are fantastic, and melt in the mouth once you bite in. Spring rolls are also deliciously crisp. There are other items on the menu I can't wait to go back and sit on the milk crates and try, like peking duck pancakes, BBQ pork buns, vermicelli salads and pho.

This is quick, delicious eating. It's not a fancy restaurant and it's not a place to go if you want to linger over your food. It's the place to go if you find yourself nearby and in the mood for a quick (and tasty) bite.


RATING: Will return to [?]

BEER OF THE WEEK: Mikkeller - Beer Geek Brunch (Highland Edition)

New feature! Yay!

Each week I'm going to bring you a beer that requires particular attention. And then you're only allowed to drink that beer until I tell you what the next one is.

I've decided to start this segment off with one of my favourites of recent time:



This beer is nuts.

It's a 10.9% abv imperial oatmeal stout made with the infamous civet cat coffee (aka the world's most expensive coffee, aka coffee shat out by rodents), aged in whiskey barrels and retails for around $40.

Still reading?

For those that don't know Mikkeller's beers are some of the most extreme, loved, confusing, delicious beers in the world. Mikkeller is a gypsy brewer, meaning he travels the land and uses spare tanks from other brewers. The Beer Geek Brunch was brewed at the equally loved Nogne brewery in Norway (which just picked up the top award at the Australian International Beer Awards).

This beer is simply mind-blowing. It pours jet black and thick. Beautifully powerful nose. Dive right in and enjoy huge flavours of dark chocolate, coffee, roasted malt and scotch. The length on the palate is tremendous.

This is a beer for people that love their beers big and packed with flavour and those that want to appreciate a superb craft beer. It's a beer to sit with and savour for a long time.

RATING: 97%

WINE OF THE WEEK: Peter Lehmann Stonewell Shiraz 2004

Really solid wine. Retails for around $100.

The highlight is the balance. For me, the perfect amount of rich, juicy (yet still quite lively) fruit--blackberries, blueberries--with a little spice--pepper, clove, anise--and enough oak for structure. Nice length on the finish.

I rated it: 92%

RESTAURANT: Hooters

Full disclosure: I'm not the sort of person that would be caught dead in a place like this. But a work lunch would cause the fates of mine and Hooters Parramatta to collide on rainy afternoon.

And as the rain fell, this place would totally fuck with my head.

It's set out like a nicely appointed, American sports bar. Heaps of TVs playing sports, a bar, typically American bar food menu, wooden furniture as far as the eye can see, etc, etc, a pool table, etc. The difference between your typical American sports bar and Hooters is that one is designed to make men happy and comfortable, the other one is Hooters.

I'd seen everyone work themselves up about this place, preparing to do some epic ogling. I was picturing a scene in my head where everyone in the restaurant was just objectifying the women, treating them like shit.

But we get there and it's the women that are in total control. Sure, the guys have a look, probably even have a chat about how they rate each waitress. But the chat is hushed, and once they have the look there's nothing left to do.

It's probably the greatest business plan of all. Tempt guys in with the promise of a fleshy, sporty, manly paradise, deliver merely a glimpse of it, then charge them huge mark-ups on food and beer. $6.50 for the cheapest tap beer? $20 for a fairly basic burger? $50 for a rack of so-so ribs (hey, guys, lets make a joke about "full rack!")? Genius. Then also sell merchandise, perpetuate the manly story on the menu, serve slowly so they burn through the beers and snacks. But won't that objectify women if they wear skimpy clothing? Nope, you see the beauty is that the women are in total control. Guys will think they will be in control here, but they will be reduced to blubbering idiots. It's 3000 years of de-volution as soon as you walk through the door. But this time (in 1000 BC?) the women are in charge.

The food? Basic bar food with a decent markup (especially the beer). Not bad, but nothing to write home about. While I never would have taken the initiative to come here before, this did nothing to change that decision. That said, I now don't want to go there for entirely different reasons to those I had before.

RATING: Will probably not return to [?]

New Features

There are going to be some new features coming soon to the blog, which I hope you'll enjoy.

The aim of these features is an entirely selfless one: to add some structure and discipline to how I write this blog.

Rather than the current strategy of writing a little something whenever I feel like it, there will be 5 main columns/features:
- Wine of the week
- Beer of the week (I think they're pretty self explanatory)
- Restaurant review (hopefully 1 or so per week)
- Recipes (probably one every fortnight)
- Other articles (travel diaries, thoughts on the food scene, etc)

Should be fun.

(I give it 6 months before we're back to normal aka never posting)

RESTAURANT: Pendolino

I don't think I'd ever gone to the upper levels of the Strand arcade before. I didn't even know there was a third level. I also didn't know there was a decent Italian restaurant in the CBD. Truly a night of firsts.

Let me backtrack. I have grown to heavily dislike Italian food in Sydney. Too many overpriced meals, not enough simplicity. Perhaps the two are linked. Italian cuisine is blessed with a wealth of ingredients, a wealth of classic recipes and flavour combinations. Why is it so hard to do this, and do it simply?

Thankfully, things are changing in Sydney. An Italian revolution is happening. Pendolino is a part of that.

I dip the bread in the selection of olive oils and ponder what has been one of my toughest menu decisions of recent times. There is too much that I want to eat. My stomach is rumbling with delight at the mere thought of these dishes.

I start with a dish that I love and that I cook often. It's a take on an insalata caprese, that ultra-fresh combination of basil, ripe tomato and buffalo mozzarella. It's a dish that is so blindingly simple, yet so many restaurants have failed to execute it well. Pendolino gives me the best version I have ever tasted. Instead of the buffalo mozzarella we have some burrata (mozzarella with cream), we have some pieces of bread as croutons, some cress and it's all in a pool of what I think is burrata cream. It's classy, it's fresh, it's obscenely delicious.

I also have some of the air-dried wagyu carpaccio. It's quite nice, but the peccorino it's served with overpowers the subtleness of the beef a little. Still, a solid dish.

Main course time and shit gets real. Saffron risotto with slices of a pork and fennel (I think) salami. The dish is placed down and I wonder if they've forgotten to put something in the bowl. It looks sparse. I try it and realise that it has everything it needs. Possibly more. This is one of the best risottos I've ever had at a restaurant. Granted, most of them have been horrible, but Pendolino's version nails it. The texture is runny, but not soupy. The grains of rice have a sublime texture. Every single one is a joy to eat. The few slices of salami on top add another rich, aromatic layer. I savour every spoonful.

I almost don't want to risk getting dessert, in case it ruins the rest of the meal. But I'm greedy so I proceed. The campari poached pear tart. And I'm glad I risked it. Simple, but elegant. A great balance of sweet (the pear, some cream), savoury (a biscuit base) and sour/bitter (a slight hint of campari on the backpalate).

But as we wait for the bill it all kind of hits me. It's not a great restaurant, despite the food.

The service has been a little clumsy, for a start. They all try their hardest but it just doesn't quite work. The special is forgotten, the sommelier arrives at the wrong time, the staff speak loudly at the open kitchen, the olive oil is taken while bread is still there to be dipped (in our hand, no less), water isn't topped up fast enough. They're small things, but they add up. It all feels too complicated for the food.

And the prices. Yes, the ingredients are excellent and the food was superb, but entrees are $20-25 and mains are around $30-40. I don't see the value. The value that would keep me coming back over other new Italian restaurants popping up. It hasn't stopped the fashionable ladies out on the town for the night, but they've never been great judges of anything, really.

Like the pendulum swinging back and forth, I swing between love and slight disappointment with Pendolino. The food is superb, but the experience is unfulfilling. Maybe this isn't the Italian restaurant I'm waiting for? Maybe I need to wait a little longer for an Italian place that has food like this (maybe less refined) that has happy, laid-back staff and mains closer to $20. Maybe the noise and the darkness of the room is dragging me somewhere I don't want to go?

Will I be back? Probably. But when? I don't think I'll rush back. But that food! That menu! I think they have two options for where to take this place: drop prices by around $5 for the entress and mains, relax the staff, aim for smart casual. Or they could tighten up the service, introduce a tasting menu and aim for 2 hats.

RATING: Okay, may go back [?]

RESTAURANT: Sepia

There's an embarrassment of talent in the kitchen at Sepia at the moment. Headed by Martin Benn (ex head chef at Tetsuya's) and backed up by Daniel Puskas (who did amazing things at Oscillate Wildly) and the recent addition of Graeme McLaughlin (of the famous Fat Duck in England). It's fair to say that I've been wanting to go there for quite some time to see what future superstar chefs are turning out.

I've been trying to hold out for the degustation, but a combination of having difficulty finding someone to go with, the proximity of the restaurant to work (next door, basically) and the lack of a lunch date made their business lunch look pretty appetising.

It's a handsome looking restaurant, no doubt about that. It has a corporate look (is there such a thing? (yeah, shut up)) but that would mirror the majority of the crowd that would be attending (ie people like me).

They offer 2 courses for $55 or 3 courses for (I think) $75. 2 choices for each course.

I started with the salad nicoise. While waiting, one of the waiters (possibly the maitre'd (what is that?)) handed me a book to read if I wanted something to look at. A fantastic gesture. He was the star of my lunch, nailing every single interaction with me. Not everyone was as good, but the overall standard was good.

It arrived. It was fantastic. A good piece of tuna, cooked absolutely perfect. Great flavours on the plate. I really enjoyed it. Generous size for the first course of a lunchtime menu; sometimes they can be on the tiny side.

The odd flavour combinations were what I was really looking for at this place. The entree was fairly standard, but the main gave me a hint of the sort of stuff they were doing: sirloin with mushrooms and a lime sauce.

I enjoyed the dish, but it didn't wow me. I've had better steaks. I also found the lime sauce a little confusing. While it was essentially a jus flavoured with lime, my taste buds took a while to reconcile the slightly metallic flavour of steak blood and the earthiness of the mushrooms with the punch of the lime. Solid, but not outstanding.

Look, you can't expect too much from a business/express lunch. Restaurants are looking at putting out food that they can serve quickly for a reasonable price. What I got was a small taste of the full Sepia experience. I've already decided to return for the business lunch again and try the other dishes, and my lunch has only solidified my desire to go for dinner and have the full degustation experience. The wine bar also looks interesting, but the markups on some bottles look at the higher end of the spectrum.

RATING: Will return to [?]

Taro and Semolina Tart

I noticed some taro at the grocers and decided to pick it up, having had it many times in dessert form and fallen in love/lust.

I thought a pudding/tart sort of thing would be nice but couldn't find any recipes. I did a bit of freestyling and took a bit from some semolina pudding recipes I saw and came up with this. It was really easy and hugely tasty.

Ingredients:
- 2 cups of taro root, chopped into 1cmish squares
- 1 cup of caster sugar
- 3 T golden syrup
- 200ml cream
- 75g butter
- Pinch of cinnamon
- Some for of vanilla flavouring
- Roughly 1 C of semolina

Put the taro in a pot and fill with water so it's covered. Add the sugar and 2 tablespoons of the golden syrup. Cook on a medium heat until the taro is tender.

Preheat oven to 180c.

Once tender, add the cream, butter, cinnamon and vanilla. Mash the taro in the pot while it cooks. Add the semolina in gradually until the mixture becomes quite thick.

Add the mixture into a greased or lined springform tin or cake tin and drizzle the remaining 1T of golden syrup on top. Bake for around 20mins. You don't want it too browned.

Once that's done, turn the oven off and let the tart cool. Then transfer to the fridge and cook for another few hours until it's cold.

It doesn't look too appetising so I'd serve it with a coconut or vanilla bean icecream with some praline or caramel covered pistachios.

Friday, July 10

For dinner I went to Sydney 3-hat stalwart, Bilson's. It was my first visit to the restaurant and I was hugely excited, having drooled over the menu since securing our table.

It absolutely did no disappoint. Each course was brilliant, with a few masterpieces interspersed. The roasted partridge dish took my breath away. The assiette of chocolate was also a huge winner.

One of the courses was interesting. A wine was served in pitch-black, blind tasting glasses and we were instructed to try and guess. Served with this is what is essentially cheese on toast. I may be reading too much into it, but I liked the cheekiness of this dish. Some of us may claim to be gourmands, but when there's a test sitting in front of us, what do we really know? How much of our food and wine knowledge is nothing but hot air?

While the food left me completely satisfied, the whole experience was only heightened by the great atmosphere of the room, and the outstanding service we received.

It wasn't a cheap night by any stretch of the imagination, but a fantastic experience, one I hope to repeat sooner rather than later.

Tuesday, July 7

For dinner I went to Guru in Surry Hills. Previously known as Beluga (reviewed on this blog), the restaurant was closed down for a make-over and a new name. Guru is more strongly-focused on modern Indian food and has a more accessible menu than Beluga.

I'd loved Beluga on both of the visits I made there, so I was a little hesitant to see if the changes had taken anything away from it. The menu was certainly different, down from 7 courses to 4. The previous entrance was now an Indian takeaway shop.

But the things that haven't changed at Guru are the most important. The food was still exceptional and is still entirely unique. The value was outstanding (4 courses, plus 3 palate cleansers/appetisers for $48) and chef/owner Opel Khan's generosity an warmth still fills the room.

Highlight of the dinner was the deconstructed samosa.

Khan mentioned that in a week or so the restaurant will again be having a bit of a makeover. In comes some heavy-duty equipment from overseas for a new 10 course, circa $100 degustation. Out goes the a la carte menu. That's right, only a 4 course or 10 course degustation will be offered.

It should be fantastic and I'll definitely be going back in a few weeks to try the new menu.

Sunday, July 5

The Food and Wine Show was in town so I thought I'd head over to the Convention Centre and see if it was any good.

There was a huge array of stalls in the hall. Everything from pasta to sponges to salmon to cat food. And there was samples to try for everything (except for maybe the cat food). Wine was definitely well represented, with dozens of wineries having tasting booths.

Some of the stalls that caught my attention were the following:
- d'Arenberg had a huge range of wines to try (from their massive range).
- Appleton Rum was a big surprise with a great stall. I have no idea that aged rum could be so smooth and tasty.
- The $50 showbag was great value, especially since they gave me an extra one free. My fridge was packed with strange items the next day (and still is, really).

While I would have preferred some more food to eat and some better wineries doing tastings, it was still a good show and one I think I'll be attending in the future.

Saturday, July 4

Around 3 months ago I purchased a bottle of Dom Ruinart 96 on sale. I'd intended to save it for some sort of "special occasion" but had recently become frustrated that there was no foreseeable "special occasion". The bottle mocked me as it sat in the cupboard. I don't know if you've ever been mocked by a bottle of champagne before, but let me tell you that it's not a nice experience.

So I thought of excuses to drink it. They still didn't come, so I put it in the fridge yesterday and set my mind on drinking it today.

To aid in the drinking of it, I got some oysters and scallops from the shops.

I pan-fried the scallops (cleaned, with the roe off) in some butter, seasoned them, took them out and dressed them with some white wine vinegar, olive oil and lemon juice. I added some diced tomato for freshness. It wasn't one of my more memorable dishes, but it warmed me up for the oysters and champagne.



To the oysters I added some olive oil, lemon juice, white wine vinegar and a small amount of sugar.

I cracked the champagne. It reminds me a lot of Dom Perignon, taste wise. Technically it's very different. A medium bead and mousse. Nice aromas of vanilla, peach, lemon and blueberry. Peach and vanilla dominate the palate. It's really nice and floral. Great finish. Very smooth, lingers for ages.



At yesterday's lunch the topic of Ethiopian food had come up. It's a cuisine which I totally adore. Limited in scope, but containing some of the best dishes I've ever tasted. Needless to say, it put me in the mood for some Ethiopian, which I haven't cooked for a while.

Dinner had to be my favourite Ethiopian dish, a sort of stir fry of chicken thighs, capsicum, red onion, tomatoes, chilli, garlic, ginger and berbere, the greatest spice mix known to man.

Excellent.

Friday, July 3

For lunch we went to Merrylands for some Lebanese food and Al-Arzah. One of the guys in my team at work had recommended it, so a bunch of us headed over.

My favourite option at any Lebanese place is always the mixed grill. A delicious mix of smokey kebabs, delicious dips, salad and soft pita bread.

While it wasn't the best Lebanese I've had, it left us all feeling pretty satisfied and groggy for the remainder of the afternoon.


For dinner I went to Medusa's Greek Taverna in the city, on the corner of Kent and Market sts. I've been there once before and thought that it was probably the best Greek food in the city. Very generous portions, good value, great taste, good service. It's still not perfect Greek food, but it is great for what it is.

The mixed mezes plate is the best way to start, giving the table a selection of all of the entrees. For mains, I had the slow-baked lamb last time (and loved it), so this time I went for the exohiko arni, lamb backstrap with cheese and spinach in filo pastry. Very pleasing.

Dessert was an adventure. We were totally stuffed, but decided that sharing the dessert plate for two (between three of us) would be manageable. What came back from the kitchen was 4-5 desserts on the one plate. The table next to us looked like a Weight Watchers graduation party and looked completely aghast, yet amazed, at our food.

It was totally delicious (particularly when washed down with the port from Cyprus) and we left totally stuffed.

Lamb Saag Cheesecake

I was talking to a guy at work about cheesecakes. He said it was fairly amazing that I thought to put ANZAC biscuit dough inside a cheesecake. I told him that cheesecakes can pretty much contain anything. Even a vindaloo, he said? I said yes. Make it, he said.

I couldn't find any vindaloo on the day, so I made it with lamb saag.

It was... interesting...

ANZAC Biscuit, Wattle Seed and Macadamia Baked Cheesecake

This week at work we had an "Australiana" bake-off competition. If you couldn't guess by the name, we had to make a dish that best signified Australia. With around 250 people in my department, I saw it as a good opportunity to prove my cooking skills after talking up some of the more "extreme" items I've made (the 14 pie-pie, 16 choc cheesecake, 13 animal pizza, etc).

So I thought long and hard and came up with this.



Ingredients for the ANZAC Biscuits:
- 120g butter
- 2 tablespoons of golden syrup
- 1 tablespoon of hot water
- 1 teaspoon of baking soda
- 1 cup of rolled oats
- 1 teaspoon of salt
- 3/4 cup of plain flour
- 3/4 cup of sugar

Method:
- Mix the oats, flour, salt and sugar in a bowl.
- Melt the butter and golden syrup together in the microwave.
- Add the butter and syrup to the dry ingredients. Add the hot water and baking soda and it should start foaming.
- Mix ingredients together and set dough aside.

Ingredients for the cheesecake:
- 2 packs of cream cheese, softened
- 3 eggs
- 395g tin of sweetened condensed milk
- 1 tablespoon of toasted, ground wattle seeds
- 1 tablespoon of chopped macadamia nuts
- 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

Method:
- Grease a medium sized springform tin. Press around half of the biscuit dough to the base. Bake in a 180 degree oven for around 8 minutes. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool.
- In a mixing bowl, mix the cream cheese until soft and smooth. Then add in the condensed milk, wattle seeds, macadamias and vanilla extract. Mix, but don't over mix. Lumps are fine at this stage.
- Add in the eggs one at a time, mixing after each egg.
- Pour the mixture into the tin. Tear off teaspoon sized pieces of the remaining biscuit dough and drop into the mixture.
- Tap the tin on the counter to remove air bubbles. Bake in an 180 degree oven for 45 minutes.
- Turn off the heat and leave for 30 minutes. Then refridgerate until cold.


I thought my team would easily win with that, but we lost to a chocolate cake in the shape of a koala that may or may not have come from packet cake mix. Although when it came time to eat the food, the cheesecake was the first thing to go out of everything.

Sometimes life isn't fair. For those times, you need to take comfort in a thick slice of cheesecake.

Asparagus, Pea, Garlic and Leek Risotto

As I mentioned in the previous post, I'm still trying to eat as little meat at home as possible.

I noticed in my cupboard this morning that I had some risotto that's been there for a few weeks, so I decided to make a fairly simple vegetable risotto with some seasonal ingredients.

The temperature has dropped a little in the past week, so I wanted to make something comforting and a little rich.

Ingredients:
- 1 leek, cup thinly
- 6 asparagus stalks, chopped with the wooden ends removed
- 1-2 cups of fresh peas (frozen will work if you can't get fresh)
- 6 cloves of garlic, blanched
- 2 cups of risotto rice
- 2 litres of vegetable stock
- A small amount of finely chopped herbs (I used thyme)
- A good amount of salt and pepper and a pinch of cayenne
- 100g of butter
- 2 tablespoons of mascarpone
- 1 cup of grated Parmesan or reggiano cheese

Method:
- In a large pot, start by cooking the leek and garlic in the butter until it softens and starts to get a bit of colour.
- Add the rice, peas and asparagus. Add the salt, pepper, cayenne and herbs and stir so everything is coated.
- Have another pot off to the side with your stock simmering away. Add a few ladles at a time and stir until the rice tastes close to done. Don't rush this step. Make sure the sauce is still very runny. You don't want it thick.
- Check the seasoning, you may need to add more.
- Add the grated cheese and mascarpone and stir. Let it sit for 1-2 minutes and it's done.

Serve with more grated cheese on top and maybe a dollop of mascarpone if you're feeling like going all out.

The Future of Food & Ethiopian Lentil Stew

I've just started reading Warren Belasco's book, 'Meals to Come: A History of the Future of Food'. In it, he looks at articles from the past that have attempted to "predict" what people will eat in the future.

One of the most striking parts of the book is constant references made to the "inefficiencies" of meat, particularly beef. The key to it being just how much in grain/feed protein is need to produce that kilogram of meat that we consume. The shame about it all is that we don't get told these things.

People choose between beef and chicken on a whim sometimes, not really having a preference. It would be nice if we were educated about things like this and we knew that there is a huge difference between choosing beef, chicken or vegetables.

Needless to say, it put me in the mood for vegetarian food. But not just any vegetarian food. If I was going to cure world hunger with one dish then it would have to be filling.

- - - - - - - - - - - -



Ingredients:
- 2 tins of diced tomatoes
- 2 litres of vegetable stock
- 2 cups of red lentils
- 4 cloves of garlic, crushed and diced
- Thumb sized piece of ginger, finely sliced
- 2 tablespoons of berbere (an Ethiopian spice mix, essential)
- 2 large carrots, peeled and sliced
- 2 medium onions, sliced

Method:
- Saute the garlic, ginger, onion and berbere in a large pot.
- Add everything else to the pot and simmer on a low heat until the lentils and carrots are soft.

Serve over cous cous. Makes enough to feed the third world.