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Andrew Christie

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Archives for February 2014

266 – Happy Chef – Double Happy on Valentines Day

February 15, 2014 by Andrew Christie 3 Comments

266 happy chef

We’ve had a weekend off, staying with friends at the Old Mill in beautiful Braidwood, and eating some nice nosh at Torpeas. Funnily enough our absence has coincided with the best ever daily stats on the blog (not that we concern ourselves with such -ooh look it’s just gone up again). So a big thank you to all the bots responsible for taking us from a daily average of about 5 to an all time high score of 200+.

So, Happy Chef. A Newtown institution if ever there was one, and Valentine’s Day as well.

Now that we are approaching the very heart of Newtown I have decided to dump the bus and switch to the train. Cityrail turns out to be faster than a 428, so even after a stop for a refreshing Reschs at the Bank Hotel and a chapter of Dennis Lehane, I am still early. Which is just as well because even at 6:15, Happy Chef is nearly full. I quickly pull three tables together to ensure enough space for Strop, Ashleigh, Paul and the Nedsky, tonight’s partners-in-dine (last seen at Blossoming Lotus). Then it is a matter of ordering a Tsing Tao and some deep-fried prawns, to help me occupy my territory, as packs of the un-seated circle through the restaurant, giving my large and sparsely populated table, hungry stares. (I reckon I could work up some allusion to either zombies or Australia’s place in Asia in there somewhere, if only I could be bothered.)

Happy Chef is a no-frills, old fashioned suburban Chinese eatery. You order and pay at the counter from the extensive pictorial menu displayed overhead, take your number back to your table and soon after, a white clad waiter brings you plates of food. They do a big business in takeaways too. A lot of the customers seem to be locals and regulars, chatting away to the staff about kids and the new school year. The decor is all fluoro lights and hard surfaces which makes for a lot of background noise, especially as the early crowd includes plenty of children.

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Luckily I am saved from having to call on Scott Morrison to come and protect my distant borders from zombie refugees, by the arrival of Paul and Strop. They are soon followed by Ash and the Nedsky, who soon spots a couple of school chums at another table and in no time at all the three of them have merged into an informal gang of Happy Chef doormen, spruiking the delights of retro-chinese food to passers-by on King Street. The street is packed tonight, the normal friday night crowds swollen by hopeful couples, and by desperate single men and women striding purposefully along the footpath, clutching a variety of last minute floral arrangements.

Somewhere in amongst all the arrivals and greetings, my prawn entree/place-holder arrived. Four fat, battered prawns with a dish of sweet and sour sauce. It’s a long time since I had sweet and sour anything, and I am not ashamed to say that I really enjoyed this trip down memory lane. The sauce was pineappley and sticky, the batter was crispy and the cholesterol-laden prawns were plump. Yum, paint me double-happy. Strop took some convincing but, Paul and I eventually convinced her that she needed to embrace the retro-chinese vibe. It was about then that Ash informed us that one of her friends refers to Happy Chef as Happy Death. On this note we all began craning our necks to check what else the menu offered. We eventually decided on salt and pepper squid, XO beans, sweet and sour fish, emperor chicken, fried rice and veggie char kway teow. While Strop and Paul went to do the ordering Ashleigh and I discovered that Nedsky had been quietly cornering the market in toothpicks, and was putting them to use, doing vampire impersonations for the passing pedestrians.

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The crowd at Happy Chef is older than at most of the King Street eateries we have been to, mostly families and locals. Paul is perplexed by the lack of hipsters until he makes a sighting near the loos, just a brief glimpse of a beard and a checked shirt, but enough to confirm the presence of these shy creatures even in this un-trendy environment.

The food was better than I had been expecting, tasty, crunchy and yummy. The only disappointment was the bean dish, which I thought was a bit over-seasoned. The sweet and sour fish was really good. Paul was convinced that the pineapple chunks were fresh not canned, which I thought was a bit at odds with the whole 70s retro-Chinese vibe, and Ash pointed out that the sauce didn’t have quite the right intensity of lurid pinkness that she remembered. Still there was none left over. The emperor chicken was good too, nice and crispy with another tasty sauce.

By this time we were on to our second round of Tsing Taos and Strop was getting a bit more generous with her illustrative hand gestures. She described her days adventures in Parramatta by knocking over any beer bottles within range. After her third attempt to clear the table she did confess that “Oh yes, and I did have a cocktail before I arrived.” Must have been a good one!

On the way home Strop and I made our way through the King Street crowds and were entertained by a skinny girl Irish dancing on the front porch of what used to be the Old Fish Cafe. She clattered away on a piece of board, arms clamped to her sides, legs going in all directions, while an over-weight dachshund showed its appreciation by barking enthusiastically. This is what Newtown is for.

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: 70s, Chinese, sweet and sour

261a – Milk Bar – Memories of Eccles Past

February 1, 2014 by Andrew Christie 2 Comments

261a milk bar

Milk Bar; is it a cafe or a restaurant? That is the the dilemma that faced us. I was on the cafe side of the equation, suggesting gently to Strop that it would be best reviewed as a breakfast or lunch venue, but Strop was having none of that tosh. She pointed out its close proximity to the Dendy Cinema (right next door with ‘outdoor’ tables actually in the foyer) and its reliance on the pre/post movie trade, as reasons that we should visit in the evening. As usual she was right, and that was what we did. However, I vetoed the optional movie add-on, on the basis that it would keep me up past my bedtime.

We waited out the 6pm pre-movie rush across the road at Black Sheep with a couple of beers. I was drinking the provocatively named My Wife’s Bitter and Strop was downing a very fruity something called Stone and Wood, “The chief beer buyer says it’s his favourite, from Byron Bay or somewhere like that”.

When things at the Dendy had died down a bit, with everyone safely choc-topped up and watching Mr DiCaprio wolfing along Wall Street, we crossed the road and settled ourselves down at Milk Bar. The room is a big open space, with a high ceiling that is open onto the street and also opens into the foyer of the cinema. It is simple and modern, having been renovated during the last remodelling of the Dendy building, and is quite an attractive space. The clientele seemed to be a mixture of tourists and locals.

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The menu features plenty of pasta and risotto as well as steaks and chicken. I was shocked to see Quinoa Fritters on the starters menu and was briefly tempted, simply on the basis of perversity, but then I noticed the alluringly-named Pork Belly Bites. Strop opted for Crispy Squid. Strop finds it hard to resist ribs on a menu, so that’s what she chose for mains and I passed over the fish and chips and went for the Crispy Chicken, mainly because of the promise of accompanying Italian slaw.

When the friendly young waiter came to take our order, Strop asked about the wine list, but was informed that they don’t have a list as such, just wine. Three whites, two reds, and a rosé to be exact. We felt the undertow pulling us towards the rosé but decided that it was too big a risk, given that the waiter had never tasted it. So we played it safe: Strop went for the Pinot to go with her ribs, and I ordered a Chardy to go with my chicken.

The starters soon arrived but were disappointing. The Pork Belly Bites turned out to be cubes of very tender pork, inexplicably hidden inside a bland coating of deep fried bread crumbs. Nice enough, but they would have been so much better without the coating. The squid wasn’t particularly crisp or tasty, and could have done with more seasoning or even some chilli. When the mains came, I realised that the waiter had misheard my order and put me down for the chicken breast instead of the crispy chicken. Strop is always telling me I mumble so I guess it is my own fault. The chicken was nice enough, if a bit on the dry side, but the jus was good, and the potato dish was great. A kind of potato gratin, with the potato sliced very thin, and compacted into a dense slab. My description doesn’t do it justice, but it was excellent. Strop’s ribs were very tender but they were coated with a strong sweet marinade that overpowered the meat.

The things you find outside the loos...
The things you find outside the loos…

For dessert we opted for a shared combination of drink and dessert. I asked to see a dessert menu but was informed that they don’t have one because the desserts change all the time. So Strop and I took turns to go and check out the options in the display cabinet. There were lots of lavish looking chocolate and cheesecake variations. Strop was attracted to a tart with raspberry and pear (right up her alley that one) while I couldn’t get past the slicey thing called a Monkey Something (sucker for stupid names, me). When I convinced Strop that the Monkey StupidNameThing looked a bit like an Eccles Cake, she went into a nostalgic revery, and started talking like the Goons character who shares the same name. During this slightly disturbing display the waitress arrived and we ordered the Monkey Thing and a Coconut Milkshake as well. The milkshake was great and I really liked the cake, but Strop couldn’t get past the fact that it didn’t live up to her rose-tinted memories of moist and spicy childhood cakes. So I suspect that she won’t leave me in charge of dessert ordering in the future.

Milk Bar is probably more of a cafe than a restaurant, but it has friendly staff and is a pleasant place to wait for a movie or watch the King Street parade (one unidentified Famous Person, a poet and a photographic club tonight), as long as you modify your expectations appropriately. The serving sizes are generous, by the time we left we were so full we could hardly waddle home.

Next up is Happy Chef, which I always want to call Happy Geoff for some reason. Let us know if you’d like to join us.

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: cafe, Food, King Street, Newtown, restaurants

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