Burgundy anyone?

I went to a Bourgogne (Burgundy) region wine tasting in November held by Bijoux Wines, and subsequently misplaced the notes I made. Tiddly? Me? Never. I’ve found them again subsequently, however, so can let you in on (as the French would say) “l’éducation” I got.


The event was held at the rear of Matteo’s, a lovely restaurant in North Fitzroy. There were only three ladies there; Linda Baron, Melbourne foodie extraordinaire, who’d invited us and Jane and Simone from Blue Vapours … who ended up doing a runner and going to the pub next door. The rest of the attendees were male wine aficionados; i.e. over fifty, high blood pressure, purple faces, comb-overs and small moustaches. It was like looking into my future!

The wines were mostly reds. They had white burgundies, and some bubbles, but it wasn’t until I was three quarters of the way around the tables that I got the low down on (as the French would say) la traditionale “burgundys”.

There’s been a special mystique about burgundy for me, ever since my parents had a ten litre cask of it on the kitchen bench back in the 70's. Bourgogne Rouge is basically pinot noir. That’s what a “burgundy” is. Talk about popping the mystique! I started tasting the qualities of pinot straight away. Pinots? Notes for the novice: It’s hard to make a good one, they always stuff them up here in the cheaper bracket, and they’re hardly ever consistent. But that’s apparently the appeal of these wines to high end slurpers: the difficulty and the variation.

There are different grades of Bourgogne rouge, and the price and quality went up around the room. The cognoscenti were all standing at the last table downing the good stuff and I’d been dabbling around the lower grades for ages! Don’t make the same mistake! Here are the gradings:

Village: grapes sourced from the village area.
Premier Cru: grapes sourced from the one vineyard.
Grand Cru: grapes sourced from the one nice hill in the one vineyard.

Definitions vary from region to region, and you might like to check my conversational definition with what they say in Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cru_%28wine%29).

So (drum roll please), my picks in the different classifications:

Kit’s Cucina Inaugural Bourgogne Wine Awards

Bubbles- i.e. Champagne Medot
NV Medot Rose
50% pinot noir and 50% chardonnay. “Medium rose, moderate bubbles. Easy drinking style.” My notes get shorter and less coherent as we go around.

White Burgundy
2004 Chateau de Citeaux Chassange Montrachet
“A quick surprise” it says in my notes, not sure why. Mid-straws yellow, grapefruit and lemon zest.

Village Rouge
2008 Domaine Tortochot Gevrey Chambertin Champerrier Vieilles Vignes
Delish. Mid cherry crimson colour, berry fruit tastes - I thought “raspberry”.

Premier Cru Rouge
2007 Domaine Marchand Freres Chambolle Mesigny 1er Cru “Les Sentiers”
Who knows what their tasting notes mean? Pebbly? WTF? Also, I’m beginning to suspect the reason these wines cost so much is to pay for the type setting. How long and fancy sounding is that name? My notes? “Perfumed. Excellent.”

Grand Cru
(the absolutely broadest range in tastes in this category– I see in my notes from Chinnoto to Amyl… crikey!)
My pick? Super big drum roll please!!!
2007 Domaine Marchand Freres Grand Cru Charmes Chambertin
Mid ruby colour, fresh berry fruit. My notes: “Yum! Yum!”

At the end, they threw in a Rhone Rouge which was a mix of grape types, and had rave reviews printed with it by the Wine Advocate and International Wine Cellar. It was a 2007 Domaine Le Milliere Chateauneuf du Pape (ninth castle of the Pope) Vieille Vignes en magnum. My notes: “Balance, rounded. What a relief after all those pinots, like falling into a comfy chair.”

If you’d like to talk to someone about buying these, or one of the many other bottles they had on offer, you could try emailing Norman. He’s at:
Norman@bijouxwines.com

Hopefully they invite me to their next one!

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The Newmarket Hotel

34 Inkerman St
St Kilda
www.newmarketstkilda.com.au

I like beer. Do you like beer? Yeah, I like beer too. Food? I like food. Do you like food? Me too! We should hang out more. Here, try this...

If you like food, beer, and hanging out, the Newmarket Hotel could very well be the place for you. The old pub famous for its "Schnitz and Tits" nights - featuring schnitzels, topless waitresses and strippers - no longer. The minds behind the Albert Park and Middle Park Hotel bought it and renovated it. They've kept the facade, ripped down the pub and put up a monument to South America. Shall we go in and take a look?


First stop, the where. St Kilda. I've got to admit I'm a North of the River boy. Abbotsford and Fitzroy are my main stomping grounds, with a quick diversion to la cita. But occassionally, the siren song of the south calls and I find myself in Sydney... I mean St Kilda. Same place, n'est pas? Not on your life. This is the cool part of St Kilda, the back bit, out the side, the gritty Melbourne-esque part of St Kilda which almost makes you want to move there. Let's call it St Kilda East.

Before I go on, I have to show my hand. This is a CJ McKenzie inspired review. It was his night off and he suggested we get down there and check it out, and I've got to admit it was worth the trip. But I might be biased because of the company.

The renovation is tasteful; you can tell it's the same architects that did the Public House in Richmond. But they've started doing things that little bit better with practice. Like functional bars, and heaters that recess into the walls.

The menu? "Californian inspired Hispanic menu". What does that mean? Tapas? Apparently not. Portions are too big for one. Share plates still, and featuring things like soft tacos with prawns, or slow roasted pork.

Oh! And they've got a really big table opposite the kitchen that you can book for functions. Handy if you want to go out with more than eight people to something. Like your family...

The crowd is a bit older at this pub. I guess the prices may have pushed the back packers down to the intersection with Alma Rd (or whatev's - it's St Kilda, I don't know my way around), so definitely a pick up place for recent divorcees. But it's a nice combination. Relaxed dining, good architecture, tasty yet simple food with a twist of spice and BOOZE. Lovely booze. Thank heavens I was there on St Patrick's day and was allowed to have a tipple.

Meanwhile - with the reno - the builders have apparently built a space underneath that has exactly the same (massive) open area floor space. It's mooted to be opened in about six months, with a catwalk down the middle and available for fashion shows, weddings, laid back love ins and what have you. You'll be catching a lift down the side to a subterranean cool-oire.

Score? It's not fine dining, and you'll need to book a table as they stop letting people in without reservations, but it's honest, tasty, and friendly... and one of my relatives is high profile there and buys me drinks. I give it a seven tentacles out of eight.

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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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Margarita Madness!

“America, America, my nation’s heart to thee! Oh endless skies, and deep tanned thighs, can I eat KFC?”

Maintaining the rage for all things American, it’s Tequila time here at Kit’s Cucina, and much like Floyd on Alcohol, I too have been known to have a tipple while slaving away over a hot anything. Particularly when sponsored (hint, hint all liquor marketers out there – particularly Don Julio of who I am about to rave).


I was at a party at Katka and Neil’s flat last year (Hi Katka and Neil!). Neil had invited a whole lot of his “telcoms” colleagues to come over for the party. It was like walking into the UN; there was an Englishman, a Scott, an Irish fellow, an Indian, an American, a Canadian and a Malay, and their girlfriends were from all over the world… particularly Eastern Europe.

The American guy was really very nice; hugely fat, beardy and weirdy (he either had one of those “draw-strings-that-you-pull-to-give-your-buttocks-definition” or a lopsided G-string – urk! – showing through his pants). He seemed a bit of a chuckle head, so I immediately smelt a rat and suspected he might work for the CIA. And why not? He perfectly fit the profile. Or have I read too many Smiley’s people book scenarios?

Regardless, he was drinking Tequila and offered me a glass or two. And WOW! The very best tequila I have ever drunk. It was called Don Julio, known colloquially as ‘the Don’ and is Mexican (a quick aside here – I know that Mexico is not the USA, but it is in the Americas, so I feel I’m on safe-ish ground with my opening song).

You will recognise the Don by its wooden stopper. It’s unavailable in stores here (he had brought it back in his luggage – or through the diplomatic bag), but would be worth your while chasing on the internet. It’s made with 100% blue agave with no other ingredients but water. Aged in white oak, such tequilas have much the quality of single malt scotchs. Awesome. See how they make it here:

Tequila Don Julio

This should probably (definitely) NOT be used for cocktails. But it just goes to show the difference between good and terrible tequila.

Anyway, over summer I cranked out the ice shaver my brother Jim (Hi Jim!) gave me last Chrissy (it was nudging 40 degrees at the asbestos beach shack) and made some cocktails. Here’s a few takes on the margarita for the next time you’re losing your cool. Try to get the best quality tequila you can (look for the word agave):

KIT’S CLASSIC
2 parts tequila
2 parts triple sec (Cointreau)
1.5 parts fresh lime juice
Crushed ice
Lime wedges
Salt flakes

Rub glass rim with lime wedge, dip in salt to crust rim. Shave ice, fill glass. Pre-mix cocktail in a jug, pour over ice. Top ice, garnish with lime wedge.


TRADITIONAL
60ml tequila
20ml Cointreau
20ml lime juice
Treat glass as above. Shake ingredients over ice and strain into glass.


COMMERCIAL
One part tequila
Three parts Jose Cuerva margarita mix (triple sec and lime cordial pre-mix from your bottle shop – yummy)
Mix, pour on crushed ice, drink, beat children, set self on fire from BBQ.


POMEGRANATE MARGARITA
1 3/4 cups chilled pomegranate juice
Salt flakes for glass rim
1 1/2 cups silver tequila
1 cup triple sec (Cointreau)
2/3 cup fresh lime juice
Ice cubes
8 lime wedges, for garnish

Shake pre-stirred jug of cocktail mix in portions over ice and pour into salted glasses. Make face. Pomegranate? Who ever has this stuff? Erk! Really? It’s good for you? Well, we’ve already made this much, better drink it. Hey, second one’s not so bad. Ole! Yes please. Has the ambulance arrived yet for the burns and beating victims from previous recipe? Better have another then. Blur memory. Wake next morning with straw sticking out of hair, a cracking headache and bruises.

Until next time (and particularly in light of the espionage comments above), it’s bye from me till next time!

p.s. Tell Julian Assange I'm on my way with the ice shaver!

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Beer Can Chicken

I had cause for reflection about the phrase "season's greetings" and "compliments of the season" while I was on holidays. I would, of course, like to wish you a happy Christmas and merry New Year, but not only would it be redundant, it's also kind of cliched.

Maybe I could just say: "Salt, pepper, smoked paprika, tarragon": the majority of the flavourings in KFC incidentally (chuck in some MSG; normal paprika; have a couple of types of pepper - black, white, green; brown sugar, white sugar: onion salt; garlic powder; maybe some chilli powder - I once managed to beat the Colonel by five spices). So "Secret Herbs and Spices" to you.

Did I hear someone say "beer can chicken"? (Yes, it's in the title of this article, Kit). I thought so.

Well, a couple of years ago I was given an American BBQ book that has revolutionised the humble barbee as far as I'm concerned. It's called 'Taming the Flame' by Elizabeth Karmel and I can highly recommend it.

The US have, of course, a different concept of BBQ to us. Here, it's all about hot grills, searing flesh (yours and that of the dear departed), letting it rest and digging in. Which is actually pretty fantastic and low maintenance for catering.

But the Yanks actually call the food made "BBQ", as in "I'm going to eat some BBQ" (don't get me started - next stop I'll be complaining about them making up words like ironical, or de-plane/de-bus/de-boat/de-BBQ, or calling main courses "entrees", or tomato sauce "marinara sauce", etc - but that's a different article), and they're really into cooking outside with a lid on for HOURS...

Anywho, this book opened my eyes to the whole indirect heat cooking with the lid on, possibly with wood chips to smoke the meat. We've made ribs, beer can chicken, North Carolina pulled pork (drool), Greek lamb (I know what you're thinking - and don't be disgusting), fish and more and it really makes the good old barbs a much more flexible tool.

And one of the big secrets to American BBQ? The rubs. Make a spice rub using the spices above, rub it on the meat and slow roast it. Brown sugar (and possibly white sugar as well) is key, as is tarragon and smoked paprika, to get that authentic American taste. I recall an overinflated Oprah Winfrey years ago telling viewers how great chilli con carne was if you melted chocolate in the sauce. And you'd better believe it! Americans love sugar in everything, including pumpkin. (Is this coming out a bit nationist... as in racist against Americans? Not my intention, but if read that way, I deeply apologise).

So, recipes for beer can chicken? Why coitanly:

CLASSIC BBQ RUB
* 2 tablespoons smoked paprika
* 2 tablespoons salt flakes
* 3 tablespoons sugar
* 2 tablespoons brown sugar
* 1 tablespoon cumin
* 1 tablespoon chilli powder
* 1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
* 1/2 tablespoon cayenne pepper
* 1 tablespoon onion powder
* 1 tablespoon garlic powder
* 1 tablespoon celery salt
* 1 teaspoon tarragon

Phew! Pre-packaged I know, but that's the old US of A for you! I'm coming over a bit red, white and blue right now as I write this (particularly around the lips... how's my circulation looking?). You can use other herbs, like oregano instead or in conjunction with the tarragon - try playing with the levels to suit yourself. Can be stored in a container pre-mixed for a few months.


BEER CAN CHICKEN
Brush chicken with oil and season with 2 tablespoons dry rub.
Open beer can, pour out about 1/4 cup of the beer, and make an extra hole in top of the can. Sprinkle a remaining tablespoon of the dry rub inside beer can.
Slide the chicken over the can. The legs act as a tripod, steadying the chicken. Put the chicken on the beer can in the center of the grill's cooking grate.
Cook chicken for about an hour and a half over a moderate indirect heat (until the internal temperature registers 165°C in the breast area and 180°C in the thigh).
Let rest for 10 minutes before carving.

You can find out more about 'Taming the Flame' at:
tamingtheflame.com

God Bless Y'all!

Kit ///

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Melbourne’s New French Quarter: Fitzroy / Collingwood

La Niche Cafe / Boire / Monsieur Truffle / Breizioz Creperie / De Clieu / Simon Johnson

Oh la la! Encroyable, zut allors! Blue Vapour’s neighbourhood is quickly becoming the French Quarter of Melbourne. Not that I mind, since I’m a francophile.

Some might argue it’s Carlton - with the Filou Patissserie on Lygon St, various cheese shops and the Theatre Francaise on Canning St – but I’m talking about a groundswell from Smith to Brunswick St, between Victoria and Johnston Sts, that’s fightening in its tectonic proportions.

Don’t believe me (about the French Quarter in Fitzroy / Collingwood… not me being a francophile)? Let’s look at the facts:



La Niche Café
67 Smith St
Collingwood
Ph: (03) 9418 3439
7 tentacles out of 8

One of my favourite places and for me top of the list not so much for the food but the friendliness. It’s an extremely casual place to eat, have a coffee or sit in the courtyard and drink a glass of wine while reading the papers.

The owner is Antonie Sargeant (hope I spelt that right), un homme from Brittany who moved to Australia and opened this little gem around five years ago… about the same time we moved in to BV HQ. Women flock from miles around to watch him pour coffee as he’s been likened to the thinking girl’s Gabriel Gate.

He’s ably assisted by Nora – a Parisian beauty who, let’s face it, has kept the tills turning by hapless older men who want tot talk to her if only briefly enough to order un tasse de café. They’ve had various qualified chefs in the back, all excellent, whipping up quiche lorraine, crepes , prosciutto and goat cheese salads, baguettes, croissants that are the real deal, etc. And they have a substantive bar with great local wines.

Last but not least, La Niche has bands on Fridays (Jane and I have played there twice), art openings and special menu nights with coq au vin and the like. Plus, the building is owned and houses the offices of comedian John Clarke, one of my heroes. You should go! (I have to mention them first as part of my loyalty program.)


Boire
92 Smith St
Collingwood
No phone
http://www.boire.com.au/
7.5 tentacles out of 8

Age Good Food Guide listed, and pretty fantastic, be prepared to reach into your wallet as the wine list is exclusively French. Don’t want to give the game away too much as I’m thoroughly reviewing this one for you next week** as I went there for a night with Stephane Reynaud (Parisian chef)… but more next week.

**My Dad said he read my last blog (“Hi Dr!”), but that it was bit long and he forgot what I was writing about by the end. Not sure if it’s me or my Dad, so will make the rest of this blog brief… ish!


Monsieur Truffle
90 Smith St
Collingwood
“Fins” chocolate and coffee. Or something. Never been there, but proportedly the very best drinking chocolate in Melbourne and a patisserie.


Breizioz Creperie
Corner Gertrude St and Brunswick
Fitzroy
(03) 9415 7588
http://www.breizoz.com.au
Near the corner of Gertrude and Brunswick Sts. Ditto Breizioz on my attendance, but definitely reinforcing of my argument.


De Clieu
Cnr Gertrude and George Sts
Fitzroy
Is this even French? Something to do Frenchman Gabriel de Clieu who took coffee seeds from the French botanical gardens and took them to the French colonies (search me I Googled this from; http://myachinghead.net/2010/10/de-clieu-gertrude-st).

It just opened this week in the former real estate agent KP Smyth on the corner of Gertrude St and George Sts. It’s the same group that did the Seven Seeds coffee place in town and people are mooching out the front looking cool already. Open two days and there are people hanging from the rafters! Phew! My comedian landlord Tim Scally (“Hi Tim!”) suspects they have A-list tabs going on to create a vibe, so perhaps you should rush down and celebrity spot out the front with a bottle of water and a cut lunch (they use Fatto A Mano bread – too hard – and charge $10 a sandwich).

Simon Johnson
Shop
12 St David Street
Fitzroy VIC 3065
(03) 9486 9456
http://www.simonjohnson.com.au

The internet calls this place a “purveyor of fine food”, so you know it’s a wank. If I say the words “Pru and Trude” you’ll get the picture; hessian bags on the ceiling, boxes of biscuits called mother in law tongues for over $20 and middle class staff (am I allowed to say upper class – do we have that en Australie?) wearing black aprons. But… oh, yes, there’s a but…

They have a “fromagerie”, basically a walk in cheese fridge, that would make your eyes pop out of your head. French cheeses galore, including the stinky one in the wooden box. I’m told they have cheese tastings for most of the day Saturday and Sunday, and that they don’t mind you taking a bottle of wine along. An idea for a bored Sunday early afternoon perhaps.


Anyway, more next week. Get ready for a review on pork, blackboards and wine, wine, wine…

Au bientot!

Christophe (c’est moi!) ///

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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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