No 35.

Inside Sofitel Hotel
35th Floor, 25 Collins St Melbourne
Over Collins Place
www.no35.com.au

Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! So we'll all go out and indulge in gluttony.

Momo? Tuesday after the long weekend, closed! Rockpool? You want too big a table! And then my thoughts turned to the first "fancy" restaurant I ever went to.

Formerly the Wentworth Hotel (I'm sticking to this name, Ange, even if it's not true) I was dazzled as an eight year old... more of that later. Internet surfing revealed their new restaurant is called No. 35, to match the floor number, and has a hat from the Age Good Food Guide. A couple of "bonjours" and deposit of $20 a head later (!!!) I was able to secure our seats.

What is it about eating, drinking and going to the toilet so many metres over everybody's heads that makes it instantly a special occassion?

So first, my childhood recollections. An open kitchen, flames of brandy burning, visions of the Towering Inferno, me looking for the most expensive thing on the menu, ordering lobster thermador and then being told I was having the chicken. Going for a wee (the absolute highlight) with floor to ceiling glass over people's heads! And the coup de grace? My Dad (bless him), complaining about the bill. "A hundred dollars for dinner for six? I've never paid a hundred dollars for a meal in my life!"

Well, how things have changed... and curiously stayed the same.

I mean the view is spectacular. Just look at it! Though somehow, the toilets weren't the same. Through the lobby of a huge atrium... which smelt like a hotel (you know that chloriney smell? How do they do that - I felt like I was in Asia). The tüt had shrunk, and I could see the MCG. Had it swapped sides, or was I bigger and the landmarks now recognisable?

The food was excellent. My gosh it was good. Five types of oysters to choose from. Roast peppers, heirloom tomatoes, dehydrated olive and frozen goat's curd (Jane didn't trust it all as the lighting was a bit low). Other guests were in raptures about the roast pork belly with scallop. Mains? I had the barramundi, keeping to a pescatorian theme, Jane had the lamb (same problem! Couldn't see it well enough so refused to eat it like a frightened horse at a jump - she'd be hopeless at the blind restaurant scenario). Dessert? Yes please! A triumph, high art! I had the brunt orange with pistachio ice cream washed down with black coffee and a Grand Marnier. Lovely.

But? I can feel a but coming on Christopher, and you're not even sitting on me. Well, the service was a bit weird. Strange northern Europeans, gaunt and humourless, like going to a performance of Waiting for Godot. We had a dose of the cheerful Canadian maitre d, a somnalier, bearded and entertaining. But the rest? Meh. Plus, I had the $160 deposit constantly ticking in the back of my mind.

So, in conclusion? View? Eight tentacles - full marks! Food? Seven and a half tentacles out of eight. Service; six tentacles. The deposit? Zero tentacles. My recommendation? Go without a booking for lunch or early supper and watch the sun sink in the west and the lights come out to play. Six tentacles.

ADDENDUM: Text altered after reassurances the deposit was accounted for in the bill.

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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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