Archives for April 2015

534 Thai Hot Pepper – Good company is the clear winner

April 25, 2015 by andysomething 1 Comment

Thai time again. At last, it’s been so long that I had nearly forgotten about Number 37. The last Thai restaurant was Newtown Thai II Express, all the way back at the station.

Tonight we are joined by The Julies who are newcomers to the quest. So we will treat them gently. Mostly. When I arrived (last of course, stopped for a quick beer and to finish reading Bring Up the Bodies), the first thing I noticed about Thai Hot Pepper was the noise. The traffic is incredibly noisy when buses or trucks start up from the traffic lights just outside. It took me two goes to say hello to everyone because it was so loud. Every time I opened my mouth another bus went past. I wonder if the noise is amplified by the wedge-shaped building, jammed into the corner of King and Angel Streets. The restaurant has a long glass front to King St. which also helps in capturing every rumble and vibration, but it does make it easy to watch the police cars sirening their way up and down, busily keeping the peace.

With hellos finally said and arses settled on seats we got down to some serious nattering. It was hectic, the conversation became so frenzied that we kept having to send the waitress away because we still hadn’t managed to look at the menu. My gender disadvantage became obvious early on as the topics lurched outside my comfort zone and into the dangerous territory of the mechanics of breast surgery and child birth. I was on safer ground when the chat veered towards camper vans although there too, I have to admit, my knowledge is mostly theoretical.

When the waitress turned up for the third time we decided we had better take the menu seriously. The first thing was to find out what Number 37 was. Unsurprisingly, it fell within the Stir Fry section – Cashew Nuts in this case, with your choice of chicken pork or beef. We went chicken.

One of The Julies was keen on a mussoman curry as it is relatively mild and she has a physical reaction to chilli. Coughing in her case. My own physical reaction to chilli is hiccuping. I was looking forward to a duet, but nothing we ordered was hot enough to set us off. There are two types of mussoman available – the traditional one with beef and a new one on us: lamb shank mussoman. We had to try that.

The other one of The Julies liked the sound of the panang curry (we went pork for that one) and Strop and I are always suckers for a roasted duck salad. For starters we stuck with tradition: spring rolls, curry puffs, and fish cakes.

Now, I have to admit that in doing my due diligence research (a bit late as it turns out – didn’t take enough notes did I) I realise that we were so busy discussing women’s health issues that we missed the main feature of Thai Hot Pepper. Their BBQ. That’s their speciality apparently, served with Special Sauce. And I’m quite fond of a special sauce. We really are going to have to lift our game on the research front, and preferably before we inflict ourselves on the next restaurant.

Anyway, the entrees were quick to arrive and the curry puffs were the clear winners – somehow managing to be both fluffy and crisp at the same time. And tasty too. The spring rolls were fresh and crunchy but the fishcakes were disappointing. Sometime I’m going to have to remind myself just why it is we keep ordering them.

Somewhere in-between courses one of The Julies wanted to know if there was going to be a sequel to Left Luggage, and if so, why didn’t I hurry up. Okay, of course, yes, just give me a minute, I thought to myself, I’m just in the middle of rewriting it because I decided to change the main character, and that means changing the POV (point of view) in most of the scenes, and I also had the brilliant idea of changing the gender of one of the villains. So more rewriting. These things take time and involve quite a few panic attacks along the way. But don’t worry, it won’t be long. Probably only another seven drafts to go. Oh and I’m about 30,000 words short of a novel, so… you know, I’m sure it’ll be okay. Eventually.

The duck salad was my favourite of the mains. Succulent pieces of duck and a nicely balanced salad. The panang curry was good too – creamy and aromatic. The cashew nut and chicken stir fry was strangely sweet, and the mussoman with lamb shank was a bit disappointing too. The flavours of the curry were good but the lamb shank wasn’t nearly tender enough.

We had a great night out. The food wasn’t brilliant, but it was good enough, and there wasn’t much left behind. The waitress had to make two attempts to clear the dishes away. I was still picking.

The thing about the quest is that it is like any night out: the quality of the company is far more important than the quality of the venue. Thai Hot Pepper is a simple local Thai restaurant with good service and reasonable food.

529 Martini Cafe – Serious about bacon

April 19, 2015 by andysomething 4 Comments

We’ve been walking past this place for a few weeks – but only at night when it is closed. And to tell the truth it doesn’t look like much when it is closed – it doesn’t look like all that much when it is open either. Even so, at 11am on a hotter than average April day (we’re getting used to hearing that phrase now aren’t we) all the tables on the street and inside are occupied. Luckily we are directed to out-the-back where there is plenty of space in a shady, leafy courtyard. Which is fine because we are here for a good talk and it is quieter away from the Saturday morning traffic on King Street.

We are joined this morning by the lovely Emma who has been allowed out on her own by Will and Charlie in a kind of ‘fair-dos’ arrangement following their recent unaccompanied appearance in these pixels. We are going to have a serious catch up chat although, apparently Emma has mis-interpreted Strop’s use of the word serious in this instance and is expecting some terrible news. But there is to be none of that, there has been far too much of it lately. The closest we get to that territory is a bit of consultation on strategies for marshalling teenage angst, and for responding to sympathetic inquiries, when delivered in quantity. It turns out that the answer to the first issue is eternal vigilance, and cake for the second. Sorted. Now for the food.

First up, drinks. A soy latte for Em, juices for Strop and I. Mine is a plain old OJ, which is freshly squeezed and comes with a bit of froth on top. Strop get’s creative and orders an apple, carrot and ginger, which arrives settled out into layers, a bit like a Celia Gullet painting. Em’s coffee comes in a double walled glass glass. Which the waiter helpfully, but a bit unnecessarily, points out keeps the coffee warm and your fingers cool.

The menu is quite extensive and we are so busy doing our not-particularly-serious-chat business that we don’t have time to get very far into it. I am the last to arrive at a decision, mainly because Emma and Strop have stolen my first two choices: Corn fritters, and Souths Eggs. I have to venture further down the page to Mexican Breakfast. Having decided on corn fritters early, it’s about the second item in the list of breakfasts, Emma has a little panic attack about bacon. Not so much the lack of it, but whether there will be enough. Her enquiries on the subject of bacon adequacy with the waitress, doesn’t fill her with confidence so she orders extra bacon. Making good use of this precedent I also order a bacon extra, because the Mexican doesn’t come with any. Strop and I order coffees as well now that our thirst has been quenched.

The staff at Martini are very helpful, although they all seem to have just wandered down from the nearest backpacker hostel. The girl who brings out our breakfast plates is so pleased to have found the correct table that she exclaims in an Irish accent, “That’s good. I’ve only been here two hours.” Strop immediately falls in love and starts thinking up excuses to ask the waitress what her name is, as she is convinced it will be something pretty and Celtic, with spelling that bears no resemblance to pronunciation.

My breakfast is excellent. There are beans that are sweet and fiery with tabasco, a tortilla wrapped around avocado, some cheese, two poached eggs, and the all important bacon. I think the other two breakfasts were pretty good too, judging by the fact that there was none left over. Even Emma’s bacon mountain disappeared, much to my disappointment. I thought I was in with a shot at some leftovers. I thought the coffee was good too, but Strop was less impressed. She’s a hard woman to please on that front though.

I really enjoyed breakfast at Martini. There is something of old Newtown about it. A bit grungy and chaotic, with no sign of hipsterish pretence. It is what it is, which is pretty good. Afterwards Em and Strop headed up the hill to All Buttons Great and Small for a bit of button based therapy. I left them to it and moseyed off to check out rumours of a new joint called Luyu & Yum Yum, which is apparently raising the dumpling bar on King Street.

528 Matee Turkish Grill – Can you be finished in an hour?

April 12, 2015 by andysomething Leave a Comment

We hadn’t been to the movies in ages. The last one we went to was the one about Bletchley Park and the gay genius guy, which we quite enjoyed until everyone spoilt it by telling us how it wasn’t exactly history. Outrage! Who would have thought that Hollywood would mess about with the facts in order to tidy up the narrative? But as anyone who has dabbled around in this blog will know, I’m not all that fond of facts myself. So we were off to another Hollywood movie, having chosen the comfort food option of a romantic comedy, rather than the paleo-diet new Russian cinema classic. Sometimes you have to pass over the kale and go straight for the popcorn. The plan was to have dinner after the movie at Matee Turkish Grill, which I think is probably the last restaurant in the Middle Eastern enclave we have been eating our way through. We got out of the movie a bit early, so I suggested a quick beer at The Bank to while away half an hour until it was a decent time to eat. Little did I know, but more of that later. Strop tends to be a bit of an admirer of your craft beers so I bought her one with a witty, and immediately forgettable, hipster name, while I had a Cooper’s Pale. Despite it’s name, her beer won the taste stakes. My beer just tasted like beer. We whiled away the time sitting in the window, looking out on the passing King St parade, commenting on the length of people’s legs as well as their life choices. Eventually, our wit and our beer exhausted, we continued our journey along King St. I was starting to wish that we had caught the bus when we spotted Matee’s sign in the distance, but before we got there, Strop pointed out the new Pakistani place that has opened up next to Europe Grill. It was only then that we noticed that in what should have been Smash Sausage Kitchen was a new cocktail bar! Apparently soon after our visit, the sausage vendors had packed up and moved out, and over Easter the place got a blue and black paint job, emerging from its drop-cloth chrysalis as Mixology – although the sign for the street hadn’t arrived yet. We had a quick chat with the manager, sporting a thematically appropriate splash of blue in her hair (or it may just have been a bit of paint courtesy of the Easter makeover). She explained that as well as high-tech cocktails, incorporating something called ‘alcoholic bubbles’, they are also doing food, for the moment at least, something to do with the license transfer process. We were gobsmacked as we continued on our way down the road to Matee. Talk about churn. Where will I go for curry mash now? Matee Turkish Grill occupies two shopfronts. One half is the kitchen and takeaway, and the other is the restaurant. Unfortunately due to our procrastination at the pub and the cocktail bar, by the time we got to Matee the place was largely booked out. There was a bit of head shaking, and looking around at the occupied tables by the waiting staff. Then the young woman who seemed to be in charge said “Can you be finished in an hour?” Strop and I looked at each other. Could we? I was thinking that it rather depended on how fast they could put the food in front of us, but before I could think of a polite way to put this Strop had said “Yes.” We were shown to a table at the back of the restaurant, next to a pretty looking courtyard, that opens onto Angel Street. In the end we had plenty of time for two rounds of drinks, a shared platter of dips and salads, and a plate of grilled lamb. I stuck with beer, opting for the culturally appropriate Efes, while Strop moved on to the house red. The Matee Plate came with all the usual dips, tabouli, a kind of salsa, and probably the best falafel I have ever eaten. They were crisp and soft and tasty – triple yum. There was more than enough Turkish bread for the dips but the way they were presented on the plate in rows beside each other, meant that they soon turned into a bit of a muddle in which it was difficult to tell the baba from the hummus. Oh well, it all tasted good. The pieces of lamb in the Yoghurt Kebab were tender and tasty and drizzled with yoghurt. Their juices had flowed out onto a layer of croutons underneath. By the time our hour was up we were stuffed. On the way back up the hill we decided to stop off at the sign-less Mixology for a couple of quick dessert cocktails. We went for what we thought were culturally appropriate cocktails: pomegranate for me, and apple for Strop. They were tasty but were both very sweet. Unfortunately, due to the licensing conditions we had to order some food too. Garlic bread, from somewhere up the road (Europe Bar and Grill maybe?) was soon delivered to our table. After that lot we could hardly move. We had another quick stop off on the way home to watch a jazz band busking in front of the ‘I had a dream’ mural – it’s not every day you hear a euphonium solo on King Street. It felt very Treme and was a lovely foot-tapping reminder of last week at the BluesFest.

Off the map – Byron #bluesfest

April 3, 2015 by andysomething 2 Comments

Strop and I have abandoned King St. for Easter and headed north to hang with the young people at the Blues Festival. Actually there are a significant proportion of old farts here too, dragging their folding chairs from tent to tent, forming drifts at the edges of the tents, just far enough inside to avoid the worst of the downpours that keep life exciting. Our demographic have done the hard yards in the past but are now reduced to dancing in short bursts to reduce wear and tear on knees and feet that are playing host to Uncle Arthur-ritis. In between times we sit in our seats, listen to the music and watch the arses of the young people dancing in front of us. Things could be worse.

Highlights so far? For me it would be Trombone Shorty’s big band blues and funk, the hip hop fusion of G. Love and Special Sauce. They also win best name so far. Matt Anderson also deserves a mention – a big Canadian with a great blues voice.

On the food front, we haven’t tried that many options yet. The Byron Organic Donuts are excellent as long as Strop does the queuing, and the bratwurst and kransky are let down by the soggy rolls. The Coffee and Pies stall does reasonable coffee, but we have no idea about their pies yet.

The camping experience is a bit like what I imagine a middle class refugee camp might be like. The most dangerous things are the green-headed ants whose turf we have invaded, and the toilets. But we have survived the great tent disaster and are still talking to each other. In a minute we will head over to check out Paolo Nutini, who is unexpectedly Scottish. The best part of festivals is the freedom to move between venues, and hang about outside. And be accosted by drunk Irishmen. “What are youse doing on your phones?”