Loeb Boathouse

Hey!  There's another video blog on Kit's Cucina.  He must have used one of those mobile phone scenarios while he was away.

Click here to watch a review of Kit in New York

But how do I find out more about this place?

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Persimmon

The National Gallery of Victoria
http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/visit/places-to-eat/persimmon
11am–4pm
+61 3 8620 2434

This article is about going out for something to eat when you’re at the NGVi… you know, the international one, which is the old one on St Kilda Rd? Grey cinder blocks with the big arch window? The window with the waterfall on it that you used to stick your tongue on when you used to go there for excursions as a kid?

Look, if you don’t know what I’m talking about, move along, I don’t want to know you anymore. Oh go on, come back then, there’s hope for you yet. At least you’re keen!


Jane and I went there relatively recently for the Vienna exhibition. It’s pretty good, BTW (that means “by the way” – I’m one of these hipsters*). You should go while it’s still on:

http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/vienna/exhibition/index

But it is loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong (the exhibition, that is). You’ll probably find when you’re half way through the tour that you need to go and get something to eat. But I had absolutely no desire to go to one of the obvious caf type nosheries on show around the gallery.

Never one to shirk talking to complete strangers, I asked one of the security guards where the best place was to go for a meal. Who better to ask than “the man on the ground” (though you’d think he could at least have sat on a seat as a matter of decorum).

‘What kind of lunch are you looking for? A sandwich?’ he asked, blinking up at me from the floor through milk bottle glasses.

I used to drive trucks for Peter Rowland catering, so can tell you a thing or two about their chicken sandwiches, but they just didn't seem to fit the bill.

‘Nah. Something with a couple of courses, sit down, with a glass of wine.’
He nodded affirmatively, cracking his head lightly on the cement floor. ‘In that case go to Persimmon. You can walk to it through the sculpture garden.’

Great advice!

The day was sunny, the garden looking tip-top with bits of sculpture (hence the name), and we walked in to be seated by a waitress in a corner in the sun looking out at the Concert Hall. Our waitress was studying opera and was extremely theatrical, so I felt right in my element.

The clientele, much like the gallery as a whole, is predominantly female and well turned out. Jane suggested that going to the NGV is a great place to research what you might like to look like in your autumn years and pick up a few fashion tips. Well, if the men are anything to go by, it’s either a biliously large gay theatrical producer with a comb over, or a skinny Asian guy in a tight t-shirt for me.

The food was great! They had a bunch of themed dishes to go with the exhibition, so you could tuck into schweinfleisch and knock it back with a chilled glass of Osterreich riesling. Ist gut, ja?

We got steered toward the lunch special by our charming waitress, two courses with a glass of Saloman Gruner Veltiner each for $40. We shared the chacuterie of Austrian cured meats which I followed up with the fish – I think it was Rainbow Trout with mash – while Jane enjoyed the Otway pork chop. Can I just say, what an absolute surprise the quality of the food was, and ultimately not bad value for money.

So next time that you’re feeling arty,
Spoil all your senses and add a food party
(thank goodness I didn’t have to resort to using the rhyme farty).

“So, what will be tentacle score?” I hear you ask with baited breath (you do know it’s supposed to be bated breath, don’t you?... and please remove those worms from your tongue – you’re putting me right off). I’m going to give it six and a half tentacles for the restaurant, view and service, with an extra half a tentacle because it’s located in a top cultural institution. Seven tentacles!

(*No you're not - Ed)

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Cavallero

300 Smith St, Collingwood VIC 3066‎
(03) 9417 1377‎
us@cavallero.com.au
http://www.cavallero.com.au/

So, where do you go when it’s the end of financial year AND you’ve finally sent out the email about your new website? (I speak, of course, about bluevapours.com, you silly person! If you haven’t seen it, go there and check it out… NOW!!).

Well somewhere in Fitzroy, close to work, obviously. But we’ve been everywhere. Wabi Sabi? Nah, done it to death. Half the joints were shut, including Huxtable and Easy Tiger. Even the Chinese joint that’s never ever open was shut (what a surprise!). Press on. But wait a moment! What’s that tune I hear rising from the chorus line? Ah yes:

‘I’ve been undressed by kings
And I’ve seen some things
That a woman’s not supposed to see (a king’s penis?)
I’ve been to paradise
But I’ve never been to Cavallero.’

Cavallero. Bar. Brekky. Brunch. Lunch. Dinner. C’est cool man, and nestled on the mean streets of Collingwood. But what is it? Cavallero? It means horseman in Spanish. Do they serve horse? And there’s a quote from Wind in the Willows on the menu. What is going on? Let’s take a look, shall we?

Cavallero is nestled at the Johnston St end of Smith St, between the artist formally known as Safeway and the one hour photo developers that sells the cheap picture frames. Hardly the top end of town, but discretely far enough from drunky’s corner (near the TAB) to prevent any blatant change begging or general groping as you walk in the door.

I know the bar as the habitué of one of my television working confreres, who has his morning latte there as he reads all the newspapers before going to work. Well, the Herald Sun, anyway. They know him by sight and just make the coffee without him saying anything.

There’s a bar along one wall, with a large antlered deer head looking down at you dramatically over bottles of spirits. There’s a large communal table at the rear, if you miss out on a booth, high ceilings and an arched window that looks like it might have been an archway to the stables back in the olden days.

The shop floor is industrial, the ceilings high, the walls white, like so many places in Fitzroy; a converted shop that may be a hundred year old factory space or warehouse and subsequently a rooming house, gambling den, brothel, butchers and haberdashery in all its various manifestations.

The glass narthex at the front, a kind of recessed door from the original shop, lets tonnes of light into the space and is the architectural highlight.

But what is it? A bar, a breakfast club, a light noshery for brunchenette, a tea time swank-a-thon? Surprisingly, it’s all of the above. As the day progresses, the staff and the offerings change, to make it more of an “every moment of the day we’ve got you covered” kind of feeling.

Breakfast and lunch dishes, ‘Brunch’, are served till five, and then a dinner menu starts at six.

First stop, the bar. Beers on tap, including a very nice porter / dark beer that was highly reminiscent of chocolate. And for the ladies? Bubbles ahoy! We (I managed to sneak a glass) enjoyed a Prosecco, which is a dry sparkling wine from Italy (prosecco means dry, apparently, in Italian – who knew?). And affordable at around thirty bucks and would give many French champagnes a fright.

Truffle infusions seem to feature prominently on the menu, and I wonder if they get them from Tasmania? I bet they do. Hey! No horse on the menu. Gah! What did we have ,and was it any good? Short answers: Food, It was.

It was excellent. Drool-able. I am now wiping down my keyboard.

Jane had the chicken and coleslaw sandwich; they apparently knew about super tasters and which buttons to push. But not just any chicken and coleslaw sandwich: “Herb & parmesan crumbed free-range chicken breast with dill and yoghurt coleslaw.” Enviro, humane, kind of boom-shanka, almost guilt free.

Simone? The tasting board which came with olives, dips, risotto balls, salad, and the most delicious looking terrine.

Me? I had the pan fried barramundi that sat on a bed of hummus (the texture was heavenly), and a parsley, sumac and pomegranate salad. Yum!

Dessert? Cue internal dialogue:

Ring the bell!
Cor, someone is going to end up the size of a gorilla.
Do you have to ruin everything? Just eat it and enjoy it and don’t mention the “f” word.
Saturated fat – oops!

I had the pistachio frangipani tart with crème anglaise – a bit like a crumbly and slightly overcooked muffin (meh!), Sim the candied walnut and chocolate genache tart (hers looked better)… and Jane just had a black coffee because she is good, and pure, and doesn’t like having the nice savoury tastes washed out of her mouth by the cheap prurience of sugar.

So the judgement? Go! Go there soon. It’s a jeans more than a suit place, but they take anyone. If you go for a meal, try and arrive early or late, because it’s just not the sort of place that seems to take bookings. I’m sure you can, you’d just feel like you were overcooking it a bit by making one. Tentacles? Let’s call it a six; it’s not fine dining but casual grazing, but none the less a fine experience for all of that.
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Middle Park Hotel

102 Canterbury Rd
Middle Park VIC 3206
ph: 9690 1958



Hello mes amis! I know it’s been a long time since I’ve parlayed at ya, but I’ve been overwhelmed by the tedium of work and sorting through piles of filing and receipts.

“Don’t tell us about your humdrum existence, Christophe!” I hear you thinking. “What I want is some great food tips on eateries and other cake hole inspired topics.

Well you can relax. This is the first in a couple of entries, because now I’ve cleared a space on my desk I can now focus on everybody’s favourite topic: tuck!

OK; so recently I was puzzling over where (oh where???) could we book the staff from Blue Vapours (great guys, check them out) to go out for their annual corporate planning day lunch? To date we’d done Pearl, Ezard (basement of the Adelphi), and Madame Sousous (Brunswick St). How could we top them?

The gauntlet was thoroughly thrown down, and all eyes turned to moiself, the food guru. Could he do it again? And how much was he prepared to spend?

I tried hard and did my research, but seemingly to little avail. The winner of the Age Good Food Guide best restaurant 2010, the chef of the year award 2011 (Ben Shewry), and only Melbourne restaurant to get in the San Pelligrino international food guide (who even knew they had one? I wonder what Bislerri thinks?) – Attica – didn’t take bookings for lunch.

And call me crazy, but I kind of baulk at the very idea of Vue de Monde with it’s exorbitant price tag. Can it really be justified? Rockpool? Maze? But do I want to hang out at Crown, or make that wrinkle headed prune Gordon Ramsay any richer?

I started trawling guides and haunting the back streets of the CBD, the date drawing ever closer and my alarm bells ringing. Where would I book? Two and three hat restaurants looked like they were offering sculptural artworks in church where you pay a premium to be intimidated, steak houses just looked too awful. And then I found it. The Middle Park Hotel.

At this point in my review I have to declare my hand. My cousin Chris McKenzie (known as CJ to staff) is/was (?) the bar manager there. I was blowing the top off a couple of frothies with him, pretending to be Billy Brownless, when he said -
“Don’t go to any of those fancy pants places. Come here! We’ve got a top chef and I swear we’re about to get a hat. It’s really good.”

Well we did, and it was.

The first thing you need to know about the menu is that it’s all about the meat. And old world meat at that. The menu is littered with items like scotch eggs, ham hocks, black pudding and duck liver parfait (OK, vegetarians are now doing 360’s in their graves, but I’m salivating). Patrons? They were predominantly flush faced men over sixty with a predilection for fine meats and red wine. It was like hitting the jack-pot of a Chinese restaurant in Melbourne filled with Chinese diners. We’d clearly landed at a gastro-pub Mecca; heart attack ground zero.

Steaks? Oh yeah, you know it. I had the top of the line and have to say I probably would have been happier down a rung or two; it was a super aged hung steak with marrow and parsley. A bit too old world for my chops; I’m not a huge marrow man – though I did have flashes in my mind of M eating a marrow bone at his club with a long silver spoon. Still, delicious, and everyone was nodding their heads around the table.

Oysters? Four types – but don’t bother shopping around, take it from the horse’s mouth: the Tasmanian were plumpest, cleanest of palate and nicest of colour.

Wine? The restaurant had a French sommelier (wine waiter) and an impressive wine list; pages and pages. Thank heavens we were able to take direction.

Now I haven’t been paid a cracker for this review, but it really was worth a look; up there with the Station Hotel in Footscray. I give it seven tentacles out of eight.

If you go, say hi to CJ for me!! To find out more, visit:

www.middleparkhotel.com.au

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Winter? Get happy!

Often known as Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) many people experience the "down in the dumps" complex in winter. Fortuitously Kit's Cucina has come up with a guaranteed way to lose those winter blues! Alright then! How? How?? You've made me click this friggin' link - now give me answers!

Well the first thing I'll say is calm down. It's OK. Why would I make a ridiculous claim like this unless I knew it to be true?

This won't be cheap,but follow these simple and guaranteed steps:
* Buy a plane ticket.
* Go to the airport with your hanky, scarf, sinex, hat, cardigan, coat, singlet, boots and thermal underwear.
* Climb on the plane and order a gin and tonic.
* Relax.
* Hop off plane.
* Walk down gang way and look at tropical flowers. See the sun?
* Start peeling off the layers because of the oppressive heat. Start laughing hysterically.
* Jump in a taxi - race to a resort, get your dackside poolside and watch people cavort in bikinis and budgy smugglers and try not to blind anyone from the reflection off your ridiculously pallid skin.

Now we can't always do this - money, work, kids, and more getting in the way - but believe me it works. And it may indeed be a deal cheaper than seeing a therapist, buying a special UV light and / or visiting a brothel and ordering up big on anything that's been through a spray tan booth a couple of times.

I couldn't afford the tropical getaway myself, but did find myself in Sydney for work. And what do you do when in Sydney? That's right: continually impersonate Samaranch announcing the Olympic winning bid! That and do what the Sydneysiders do. Sit in a tshirt in mid winter beside the water and enjoy the hospitality. I did just that and attach, for your amusement and edification, a short review of Nick's Seafood on Darling Harbour - a local institution. Bon appetit!


Nick's Seafood Sydney video review here!

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