Archives for January 2014

255 – Italian Bowl – Fast, fresh but no frills

January 25, 2014 by andysomething Leave a Comment

This is where we were supposed to go last week when we were fooled by the discrepancy between geographical and numerical order. Anyway, we are here now, a bit earlier than usual because we are off to the theatre (“Darling”) afterwards, for our last festival outing. After taking last year off, we approached the festival this year in our usual ill-informed manner with perhaps an added pinch of cultural risk-taking. It hasn’t paid off. Especially for Strop. Her post show comments have included “Dire!” “Wankers!” and the ever-reliable classic, “That’s ninety minutes we’re never getting back.” She especially didn’t like the afro-futurist jazz played by an eighty year old saxophonist. The only thing she has loved so far was our first outing to a magic show, which was very good. Entertaining, even.

(Optional magic show Rant: There is something strange about going to a magic show. You enter into a consensual contract with the magician to be lied to. You know that there’s nothing magic going on, that it’s all about deception and illusion, but if the trick is wrapped up in an entertaining package you go along for the ride, trying not to give too much thought to how they’re doing it, because the answer is always going to be completely mundane, and in the end you want the showmanship more than you want the truth. Much like religion really. End of Rant.)

Italian Bowl is all about pasta. And speed (no, not that kind). The food is fast, fresh and relatively cheap. It caters to a lot of pre-movie punters and it does a fair trade in take-aways as well, but it is not the sort of place to linger over your linguine. Its business model is based on fast fettucine and the occasional rapid risotto (okay, too much of a mediocre thing, I agree – and you probably can’t cook risotto quickly anyway).

It is not a large place and more than half of the floor area is given over to the kitchen which runs along one side, leaving punters squeezed against the other wall. Or out on the street. We arrived at 6pm, right in the middle of the pre-movie rush and the only table was right out the back. Tonight we are joined by the Stropolina, and it is a bit like being back in Vietnam again as we sideways-shuffle our party of wide-bodied Australians through the packed-out tables, and squeeze into our seats trying hard not to bump the other patrons who are busily slurping up their spaghetti. It was only after I had settled myself down that I realised I was going to have to get up again and go and order at the counter at the front. The big Italian guy taking orders at the front is something of a maestro of efficiency, plucking order out of the noisy chaos around him. By the time I’m half way to the front he has a number on a stick ready and is waiting to take my order. By the time I have got back to the table the garlic bread is hot on my heels.

Italian bowl is not somewhere for a slow romantic meal. It is noisy (you are basically eating in the kitchen), full of the clatter of pans, and a bizarre music soundtrack that Stropolina reckons must have been programmed by someone’s mum. It is however fun, and it is fast. The food may not be brilliant but it is tasty and freshly prepared in front of you. And I do love an Italian place that has parmesan shakers on all the tables.

Afterwards Strop and I strolled back along King Street towards the Seymour Centre, enjoying the light rain, and doing a bit of restaurant reminiscing (I can’t understand why that place is always full etc.) and noting the closures and openings (what’s happened to Asian King?). The show, Ockham’s Razor, turned out to be great, aerial theatre/dance in three short acts. Beautiful, engaging and entertaining, – not a lot to ask for really, and a good way to end our festival.

Next up, according to Strop’s calculations, is Milk Bar which I think is a cafe so it might be another breakfast outing.

258 Iktus Sushi House – The King Street floorshow – always reliable

January 18, 2014 by andysomething 1 Comment

Having stumbled out of Black Sheep, we stepped next door, straight into Iktus Sushi House for a real meal. This place treads a fine line between take-away and restaurant, but as Strop points out, it has proper tables set for eating, and walls covered with photographs of all the food you can order, so we can’t ignore it. We continue with the evening’s theme by ignoring the Nominatively Determined Ordering rule. No sushi for us tonight, instead we order edamame, gyoza two ways (green/steamed and prawn/fried), seafood yakisoba and unadon.

Our table is tiny and so close to the front that passers-by have to step around us. This is where we like to sit when it is just the two of us. The passing parade gives us something to talk about and papers-over any awkward silences. After a short disagreement about who ignored the other and reached for their smartphone first, the food started to arrive. As the plates kept coming our table real estate values sky-rocketed and we eventually had to put the phones away. The food was bought by a taciturn Japanese man in a bright turquoise Hawaiian shirt and a straw hat. Very up beat.

The green gyoza was nice and so were the prawn ones, even though they were deep-fried, rather than pan-fried. We managed to burn our mouths on both types, the liquids inside resembling molten lava as we bit into them. The unadon wasn’t bad (Strop likes a nice bit of eel), but the seafood yakisoba was disappointing. Greasy and over-seasoned. We have a bottle of ginger beer each to accompany our meal.

What with the ginger beer, Hawaiian shirt, and unremarkable food, it is all bit as if we are still on holidays, except for the floorshow. King Street is always entertaining, and tonight it has laid on the disparate group of bikers who congregate each week at Gelatomassi (two doors down). The first to arrive tonight is a leather clad road warrior on a huge Japanese sports bikes, who turns out, when the helmet is removed, to be a young moslem woman – complete with head scarf! Take a bow multiculturalism. Next is a big bloke on an electric-blue chopper with a Greek-Cypriot theme going on (very classical). Then three little guys on a variety of big loud bikes show up and try and man-handle their mounts into the limited number of spaces available. There is a lot of discussion about who should park where, and eventually the last two to arrive are sent into purgatory across the road. They are not happy about it either. They obviously want their bikes close by, so they can keep an eye on them while they sit on the street and lick their rum’n’raisin cones.

With all this excellent distraction going on, we accidentally eat all of the food that has been put in front of us. Oh well, it’s all in the cause of research after all. While Strop is buying a gelato for dessert, a car pulls out of a parking spot right in front of Gelatomassi. It is as if someone has fired the starting gun at Le Mans. Bikers abandon their gelatos and short-blacks, and rush to bikes scattered on both sides of the street, starting them and riding back to the poll position parking place that is being guarded by the big Cypriot guy.

It must be nice to have a passion in life, I think as Strop offers me a lick of her peanut butter gelato.

256 Black Sheep – Oops, not really back in the swing of this yet

January 18, 2014 by andysomething 5 Comments

Happy New Year? Well, not bad so far but give it time.

On Friday night Strop and I hit King Street again, reinvigorated by our sojourn up the coast and by three weeks forced proximity with young people. Unfortunately we still had our holiday heads on and failed to do even the most basic research before downing a welcome-back Dogbolter and waddling towards Black Sheep. In our enthusiasm to get started again we assumed that Black Sheep was the next place we should be visiting (a quick check of our own blog would have told us that it is not) and nor is Black Sheep even really a qualifying eatery. It is more of a drinkery. A bar that flogs a few tasty tapas-style stomach-liners. By the time we had established all of this, the enticing idea of a nice cocktail had lodged itself in our holiday heads, and a charming tall hipster barman had seated us and taken our order.

Oh well, go with the flow. Live in the moment. Listen to the rather nice music.

While we waited Strop started sorting the postcards she forgot to send when we were on holidays, into geographically based themes, and I tried to remember how to switch off the thing in my new camera that makes it take fifteen of photos of my lap whenever I press the shutter.

The cocktails arrived quickly – an orangey-red rum and amaretto one called the Black Sheep (presumably just because they needed a signature cocktail) for Strop (she liked it a lot) and a very lemony one for me in one of those stupid pretend jam jars. The lemony one was called Atomic Tom and came with a warning. “That one is very sour, let me know if you want me to put some girly sugar in it for you,” said the barman, as he placed it in front of me. Okay, on reflection he may not have actually said girly, but that was what I heard. Any way it was definitely a challenge so there was no way that I was going to admit that his lemony drink was too strong for me, and ask for some girly sugar. Hell no. Luckily after the initial mouth-puckering, it turned out to be very infreshing.

“Food’s taking a while,” Strop said, looking up from her postcards. She was up to the Big Banana at Coffs Harbour by this stage. As is usually the case, as soon as you ask how long your food will be, it suddenly arrives, making you wonder if they have just been hanging on to it to see how long it will take to get a rise out of you. Or maybe it only seems that way if you’re a bit paranoid.

Another, shorter, hairier hipster brought out the food. Grilled chorizo first. “Do you want cutlery for that?” he muttered as he started to disappear. We looked at the sizzling slices of sausage, the big dollop of aioli, and the finely sliced cabbage salad, then we looked at him. Was this a test? Some of the much vaunted hipster irony? Or was he just taking the piss? Or was he a moron? Yes, of course we want fucking cutlery.

Knives, forks, plates and napkins duly arrived, followed soon after by our croquettes. The food was very good, especially the chorizo and the salad, and disappeared very quickly. Which was just as well, because we still had to find somewhere that served actual meals to review.

So apart from the hipster unfamiliar with the function of cutlery, Black Sheep was a pretty good place for a drink and a nibble. But I might just have a beer next time.

Off the Map to Brunswick Heads – fatbellyKaf

January 12, 2014 by andysomething 3 Comments

Well, it’s me, Strop, and this is a special off-the-map guest blog, because Andy refused to write while on holidays.

The daughters, the g-daught, the son-out-law, Andy and I have all been on a summer holiday. This outing was planned as a last night celebration of our two weeks together in Brunswick Heads.

We’ve been to fatbellyKaf twice before, and we’ve never found it wanting – so we are really looking forward to this treat.

One of the best things about Brunz is that you don’t really need to drive anywhere, ever. It’s all walkable.

For instance, the Brunswick Hotel, as some of you may know, is perfectly located on a bend in the tidal creek. It is well-appointed, with many tables and seats under generously proportioned poinciana trees, a variety of beverages and tasty food. It is perfectly designed to entice on the way home from the beach.

The IGA has everything you might need, including local delicacies, and the fruit and vege stall down past the Bowlo offers a wide range of fresh and often local fruit and vege (surprisingly).

And then there are the choice swimming locations: our preferences are for Torakina, a small beach inside the Brunswick River’s breakwalls, or a couple of locations on the Creek. The surf beach is often a bit wild and wooly, not so good for 2 year olds, whereas Torakina has very good sand for drizzle castles (one of my personal favourite activities at the beach) and in fact many other type of sandy constructions – there was a sand car there one day! The creek’s depth fluctuates from very deep to very shallow depending on the tide, so about half of any day there are plenty of places to swim.

The only real reason to get in a car is to visit the splendid farmers markets in New Brighton (Tuesdays) and Mullumbimby (Fridays). They are a must if you have a vehicle, the local food on offer inspires great holiday cooking, in our family at least.

So, on our last night in Brunz we head for fatbellyKaf, which is a short walk along the old highway from our homely accommodation (what a different place it must have been when trucks went hurtling through day and night). We got their right on 6pm as we had the g-daught to feed.

Straight away we were warmly welcomed and settled. It is a family-run business and super toddler-friendly – probably missing their own kids, as we find out later in the night that their kids have been evacuated to the grandparents in Adelaide for the silly season. Within minutes of the g-daught sitting down, a pink cup, plate and eating-irons are delivered especially for her – nice.

We um and ahh over the menu, eventually taking the son-out-law’s lead of several cocktails – I have a whisky sour, mmm-mm. The others enjoyed their fbK specials: Rubejito (manzanilla sherry, mint, lemon, bubbles) and Vissitini (vodka, Cointreau, lime, rose, sour cherry)

Uncharacteristically, at least for me, we opt for a banquet: The Fisherman or O Psaras, for 4 with the addition of a Greek Salad and a Dry Aged Binna Burra Beef Rib Eye Steak with Bravas Potatoes. I’m usually reluctant to commit to a banquet because I expect them deliver the cheapest, least authentic and most mundane options, so Andy is a bit surprised at my willingness here, but I figure that fatbellyKaf will be aiming to showcase the very best of their Mediterranean-influenced sharing fare…

After our delicious, colourful cocktails arrive but before the food, (and before all the other people arrive to detain the him with their needs) out Host comes over to ask, “Is it ok if the kitchen takes a bit of artistic licence?” We all nod enthusiastically.

Through the meal, the bestest Aunt and I take turns to go for an occassional wander with the g-daught – I fail miserably at the first hurdle, bringing her back with not one but two bleeding knees. She is pretty stoic and brave, so is quickly settled with bandaids from the ever-accommodating staff.

The delicious food arrives, perfectly paced and impeccably presented. Happily there are no food fights (though there was one slight altercation about eating the tiny candle before the actual food arrived). The g-daught enjoys many tasty morsels, though there is a bit of bribery action to encourage her to try everything, including the spicy calamari. Her inducements are pretty jewels of pomegranate.

Here is the list of food (Andy would never do this) – but imagine that eating them is even better and more delectable than they taste in your head:

Garlic Bread
Plenty of local oysters some raw, some lightly chargrilled with various delicious dressings such as Pomegranate and Tomato; Finger-lime Pearl; Gin and Fried Onion Butter Gratin – salivating yet?
Tuna á Crudo with Fennel Tomato and Sherry Vinaigrette
Chilli Spiced Calamari with Mojo Picon
Beef ‘Pinchos’ with Olive Oil potatoes
Clear Water Scallops with Confit Duck & Pea Skordalia
Ocean Trout with Fragrant Salt, Fennel Salad& Tunisian Tarator
The beef I mentioned above and the simple tasty salad …

The following words were uttered between smacking lips and splitting everything 5 and a quarter ways: “stunt cooking with terrific local ingredients” – “so delicious, its ridiculous” – “exceptionally good food” – “so much better than anything we’ve had (so far) on King Street”.

The g-daught reckons she isn't getting enough beef in her diet — The g-daught reckons she isn’t getting enough beef in her diet

My only regret … was that I didn’t order a serving of the extraordinarily delectable and creamy Greek Custard Pastry scented with Orange Blossom that I had last time. Our banquet came with rich buttermilk ice-creamy cone, but I immediately got food envy when a huge serving of the custard was delivered to a neighboring table and my mind flashed back to the extreme deliciousness of this desert.

So, if you are ever in Brunz be sure to make time to eat at fatbellyKaf – try to book if you’re there in the silly season, it was packed out Thursday night, but the service was super.

If there is next time in Brunz for us, we’ve vowed to visit fatbellyKaf earlier in our stay, instead of leaving it to the last night – it is such a wonderful treat.