Scusa Mi Ristorante

Mid-level, Southgate
Southbank
www.scusami.com.au



OK, how do you know when the restaurant trade has been taking a hammering?

When you walk into one of the best places you’ve ever seen, with great service, beautiful outlook, good food and the place is nearly empty. But surely we should take a look inside? Look at the lunch special!

OK, admittedly it was a Tuesday, down at a Southbank undergoing various renovations, but the sun was shining bright and, as I sat out on the verandah I felt like I was on holiday in Sydney, or maybe that it was my birthday. But no. It was just me and a book, catching a lunch special at Scusa Mi and catching a few rays.

The balcony overlooks Flinders St Station, the lunch special was great value (glass of wine, entrée – I had the octopus, and main; followed by the seared Salmon - $26!).

The name pretty much tells you it’s Italian food, and their card has three comedy chefs, so it doesn’t take itself too seriously.

As a quick aside, I'm amazed at how far Southbank has come as a dining precinct in the last decade. I’m beginning to suspect Southbank is becoming Melbourne’s version of Las Ramblas, the touristy walk flanked by the homes of jet-setty millionaires through the centre of town, and where you will increasingly find some of the very best restaurants going around.

OK, my particular lunch wasn’t the pinnacle of art in food – I did just have the special and I can’t recall seeing any “foams”, or titrations from the lab of some genius – but it was pleasant fare, a great view and attentive service. Plus, looking through their gallery, they look like they can rise to just about anything and match it with the foam/blindfold/food as painting and sculpture-ness-ness of any of them.

Thank God they are there.

Six tentacles out of eight!

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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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Metropolitan Hotel

36-42 Courtney St (Cnr Blackwood St)
North Melbourne
http://www.metrohotel.com.au

Have you ever had one of those moments, walking into a restaurant or hotel you’ve never been to before and felt like yelling out ‘Darling, I’m home!’ as you toss an imaginary brown leather satchel into the corner and recline onto a leather chaise lounge and tilt your hat over your eyes?

Well that’s how I felt when I walked into the Metropolitan Hotel for lunch the other day. Fan-friggin-tastic. Want to come in and take a look?

What can I say? Old stain glass windows. Traditional wooden bar. Beer. And what beer! Taps and taps of it. An old dining room, reminiscent of my Mum’s dining room, with old furniture, white table clothes and playing Nat King Cole over the audio system as we were seated.

But the pièce de résistance? What the restaurant specialises in. You know I am going to hell for this, and the planet getting burned to a cinder by our profligate farming practices, but I don’t care if this is what it means. You got it. Steaks!

Oh gosh, just even writing these words makes me come over all gushy and want to skive of down the pub… again.

OK, now I’d better just lower your expectations a little. It’s not perfect. The staff say things like ‘Have youse decided what to order yet?’ The antique chairs in the dining room are beginning to go in the bum a bit (like us all), and the tables are a little rocky. The floor creaks and there are fat blokes sitting around in suits.

But this place is about nostalgia. Pub nostalgia for an era that may never have existed but is even more glorious for that. You know, that kind of yellow light memory you have while you’re experiencing something? Golden and glowing and pure, because you realise you’re witnessing the end of days of something; a perfect pearl sitting in a glass of vinegar that Cleopatra holds while licking her lips. Something pure and refined, but kind of sad too. With beer on tap.

I’ve noticed recently that North Melbourne has a treasure trove of gourmet pubs. There’s the Royal Park hotel about two blocks from the Metropolitan (OK, a bit uni style, with hand crotched art on the walls and used brown couches – but carpet bagger steaks! – like the seventies never ended!), and I suspect dozens more venues hiding around the back streets. This may in fact be one of my new ventures, to go out and seek every back street North Melbourne gastro pub scenario. And then maybe I’ll turn my sites on Seddon.

I had the aged poterhouse with red wine jus and side orders of rosemary potatoes and a green salad, washed down with a very serviceable Heathcote Shiraz. There were five of us (rather than the four in my previous entry), we drank more, and it still came out to cost less than Shakahari… and animals gave their lives for our meals! (Bless them, they did not die in vain).

So obviously, you know I liked it. Stuff it, I loved it. Give me more please. This isn’t fine dining. Not in the strict sense. There are no velvet gloves emptying your pockets, and it’s a bit too earthy to be posh. But it’s my style. I guess I must be a fat gutted, middle aged bloke (on the inside, bursting to get out through the veneer of urbane and svelt intelligentsia) who really likes drinking beer, red wine and eating steaks in convivial surrounds. The verdict? A strong six and a half tentacles out of eight. Forza!

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Shakahari

201 Faraday St
Carlton VIC 3053
www.shakahari.com.au

I know what you’re thinking!
Shaka Zulu? Hari Kumar? Kit has gone all African-y/Indian on us!
But nothing could be further from the truth! Shakahari is the name of a vegetarian restaurant in Carlton I went to with some friends for a vegetarian meal the other night, and I thought you might be interested.

I’ve had complaints about this blog previously (hello Dharamjot!) that everywhere I pick is polluted by the corpses of our animate brethren. But far be it for me to be said to be biased agin vegetables. Hey, I don’t mind lentils and mung beans. Let’s see how the herbivores do it, baby! (Answer: on the grass… much like the reviewer - Ed).

Located in a terrace house opposite Brunetti’s, Shakahari was the only vegetarian restaurant in my copy of the Age’s Good Food Guide. The only one? Yes! And a hat! So let’s take a look at the ONLY vegetarian restaurant in Melbourne that made the cut for the Age Good Food Guide, shall we?


Shakahari has been around for donkey’s years (read around twenty), and some of my older pals had heard of it. Ask a Gen Y-er about vegetarian food, though, and they all say ‘the Veggie Bar’ (Brunswick St).
So how would you describe Shakahari? In one word? Hippies. In a few words? Vegetarian hippies who have a predilection for Asian grub. I should have been twigged right off when I called to make a booking.

“Hello? I’d like to book a table for four tomorrow please.’
(Longish pause…) "Sigh. Alright.”
“Um, would you like my name?”
“I suppose.”
“Kit. For four.”
“Fine.”
“Would you like a mobile phone number?”
‘I guess... You know there’s no BYO?”
“That’s OK. See you tomorrow!”

How’s the ambience, I hear you ask? My initial reactions were positive. Wood floors, wood furniture, carved elephant statues, orange walls. But the tables? Too high. Chairs? Too hard. Lighting? Too bright. Porridge? Too hot… oh no, that’s another story. But you do have to go into the back garden and trip over loose bricks to go to the loo, though, so there is an element of a bear in the woods… if you get my drift.

And the other clients? Nutty. As in as nutty as a nut cutlet. It did make for an entertaining floor show though; people with anaemia saying things like “I’ve just been really stressed, you know?”, rockabilly boys chatting up tattoo girls, and same sex couples holding hands over lentils. You know. Cool people. Vegetarians.

The food is Asian inspired with a western influence. This can pretty much be distilled down to “Eastern food, Western plates”. Not a share thing, although the entrees said ideal to share and each one came with four portions. But then they came out on massive bits of white crockery, we had to decant them onto side plates, the serving was a disaster.

The menu has V (vegan), D (dairy), and E (egg) written against the various dishes, so you can work out what is least offensive to your sensibilities and or delicate digestional situation. I did, however, find myself with a tummy upset after going here (whether it was the food or not I’m unsure, so am unwilling to litigate); I guess the moral is just because something’s vegetarian doesn’t necessarily mean your body won’t reject it.

We had the mushroom dumplings (yum), the fried five C’s in pastry (I dunno what the five C’s were – and stop being rude), and the avocado magic (deep fried with capsicum and eggplant). For mains, I tucked into something called the Shaolin Treasure Chest – basically tofu with mushrooms (Asian) with five types of rice grain. Dessert was a lactose intolerant person’s wet dream, with tofu based baked goods that were delish.

The verdict? I thought it was a little bit on the expensive side, especially considering that no one died in the preparation of my dishes. If you HAVE to take out a vegetarian, or even better a vegan, GO! Go gangbusters. But if you’re looking for a fine dining experience, cross the road to Brunetti's and have a cake and coffee. Hard core vegetarians would no doubt give it a seven and a half out of eight. Me? A confirmed mollusc eater and lover of luxury? Meh. Let’s call it a scrape-y five tentacles out of eight.

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St Jude’s Cellars

389-391 Brunswick St
Fitzroy VIC 3065
www.stjudescellars.com.au

Brunswick St, eh? Gee, I haven’t been down there in ages. And I literally work three blocks from it. For some reason, I always turn left when I walk out Blue Vapours office door: my current theory is that if I turn left it’s down hill, my house is in that direction and Smith St is so much handier (at only a block and a half).

But nothing on Brunswick St has changed, although curiously and conversely absolutely everything has changed. There’s still year ten kids drinking coffee and smoking sly cigarettes outside Italian cafes in their school uniforms, there’s still young men from the country and suburbs toting instruments to gigs at the various bars, even the old bearded hobos playing guitar and busking for a few coins are still there. But I’m old (well, older) now, and fashions have changed… though I did see a guy down there with a flat top with blonde tips, a white windcheater, white high top Nike sneakers and Levi 501 jeans (I had to laugh - he was way over forty!).

Anywho, I was told about St Jude’s by my mate Suze (Hi Suze!), who’d been taken there by her boss David (Hello David!) for lunch and gave it two thumbs up. As always, intrigued by the advice of someone with taste (they do work at groovy architects Heritage Alliance), I took myself out there for dinner last night. Let’s go in and take a look, shall we?

St Jude’s is brought to you by the same people who own Rice Queen, the Panama Dining room (Smith St) and apparently the Veggie bar (Brunswick St - nice website).

Now let’s get this straight; it’s not strictly speaking a restaurant. They’ve got a kitchen, and it’s very good, but they seem to really do “the booze”... as they say in Eastern Europe (ahoj Stanka y Katka!). Hey, this is turning into a “shout-out to my homeys” review. Keep reading, you might be next!

The Booze. Booze, booze, booze. Look at the wine list. Very nice. But they’ve got more. Look at the racks. Someone came in from an office over the road and picked up a dozen bottles of champagne I’d never heard of and they handed them over without a receipt. Spirits. Martinis. A “with drinks-nibbles” section on the menu.

The food is competent, not high art, but the prices are reasonable. I had a baked chicken with parsley sauce entree (that's a "starter" if you're reading this in the US), and the fish of the day for main - grilled Blue Eye on a quinoa, spelt and hazelnut bed with a side salad.

Wines? A Spanish white wine type Albarino (very nice – apparently the Australian Albarino was going great guns until they realized the Spanish suppliers had sent the wrong grape type and it wasn’t Albarino at all), then changed gears to an Australian sauvignon blanc, and then a French "savvy b" to see the difference. I can’t remember the difference, incidentally, because the rest of the night then devolved into a haze.

The décor is all hard surfaces (which I see everywhere); lots of black and white and racks of the booze. A high ceiling in a kind of old warehouse, it's very tasteful. I can’t say there were people falling out the door, it was pretty quiet really, but that whole end of Brunswick St (down near Alexander Parade) has sprouted restaurants and bars where I can’t remember there being that much action. I spoke to one of my publican mates about it, Guy from the Napier Hotel (Hi Guy!)…which was absolutely pumping by the way… who said that the building was cursed and had had serial failed businesses in it. Maybe it is, but I’m crossing my fingers they stay around. The menu advertised what looks like an extremely attractive set menu event at the end of the month (26th June) with five courses and seven matching wines for a tonne. But don't quote me.

So in summary? Go for a wine or cocktail. Maybe skip the main courses and just have the nibbles that go with the drinks. The drinks list gets a rubbery seven tentacles, the food a strong five, five and a half, the decor a six. In total I give St Jude’s a six tentacles plus a couple of suckers out of eight! Enjoy!!

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Cumulus

45 Flinders Lane
Melbourne
cumulusinc.com.au

Everyone's been to Cumulus. Except me. Every time I went past it was packed. Trendy young people and older sophisticates have scoffed there for years while I've been stuck outside in variously the cold, temperate and boiling hot. Tsk.

But last night, out alone wandering the cold streets of town on the way home (cue wind machine and darkening skies, drizzle rain machine effect, empty street, rat scurries out of breeze behind bin), I chanced my arm. Surely this time?

It was packed, a surprise from the empty street outside. They squeezed me in between two groups of attractive girls at the bar to watch the chefs. I asked the waiter for his menu recommendations, and found out something they don't advertise!...

...OK! I clicked on full post. So what's the secret?

Come on, do you expect to do the reveal that fast? We've got to have one minute of suspense.

Cumulus is a little bar at the top end of Flinders Lane owned by the same people who own Cutler and Co. It's all hard surfaces in basically one open plan room with the cooking staff on show. Gee they work hard! Think trattoria.

The ingredients are second to none. Wagyu cured beef is cut on a meat slicer, they have over eight different kinds of oysters (not all great, as usual), fresh tuna and confits (beef?). Pomegranate seeds feature, as do delicately palate balanced salads. What would you call it? Eur/Asian, Frenchie-Jap? Freshness is the main key but saturated fat decadence options are available for those with the need.

My friendly waiter recommended two oysters, the cold octopus with chilli - small hot and green - and mayonaise in oil (Yummy!) and his secret.

The secret? Show me! What's the teasing all about. Argh!

My pal suggested I get a half serve of the cauliflower and a half serve on the tuna dish (raw, served on cold minted peas). Just the right amount for one. Half serves are not advertised as an option on the menu and significantly financially saving.

Throw in a Peroni and a glass of award winning sauvignon blanc, and it's as good an eatery as anywhere on the planet.

So, the tentacley verdict? A bit too popular, hard to get seats for four or five, but a couple could get in OK if their timing's good. Bookings? You might take them, but it's not that sort of venue. I'd do the fly past as there's so many restaurants around the area. But it is worth the try. One chef's hat from the Age Good Food Guide, I give it seven tentacles out of eight.


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