reQuest

Thai La Ong – A Valentines Day Saga

February 27, 2021 by Andrew Christie

We’re going out for dinner and I’m nervous. Not covid nervous, Valentine’s Day nervous. I’m expecting crowds, booked out restaurants, purveyors of crappy roses, magicians, even. Due to a series of entwined exigencies now lost in the depths of time, Strop and I managed to exchange our wedding vows on St Valentine’s Day. It is an error we are still paying for. You simply cannot go out for a quiet wedding anniversary celebration on Valentine’s Day, so we usually shift the date to avoid the crowds and complications.

But not this year. This year is our fortieth. Just let that ruby-coloured number sink in a moment. Forty years married. To which should be added The Years Before—a period of indeterminate length—during which we hung out with sufficient intensity as to produce a baby girl. Makes you feel old just thinking about it.

So, our fortieth—our Ruby Anniversary—and we’re in Sydney. King Street beckons. Strop has romantic notions of taking Painting the Bridge back to where it all started, but I don’t think Izote Mexican still exists.

Romance seeps away. Pragmatism builds a bridge. Thai La Ong is still there, and one thing you definitely cannot get in Bermagui is decent Thai food.

This will be a family affair. We are to be joined by a daughter, a granddaughter and a nephew. The Stropolina, the Lagilou and the Chippy.

First off, Strop and I embark on a nostalgic walk from Newtown Station along a sultry Enmore Road to see what has become of the place since we stopped paying attention. It seems a bit tidier. A bit quieter, maybe. Hard to tell really, as it is still the middle of the afternoon. Some new joints. Some survivors.

We end up at the Warren View where things have changed. Covid measures are serious here. There are separate in-and-out doors. The young woman behind the bar wants to verify our log in. Us old folks from the coast aren’t used to quite so much covid-tainted reality. The beers have changed too. Lots of funky, and probably very hoppy, hipster beers from pop-up breweries are available. Watermelon flavoured! Probably rhubarb too. Or turmeric. The very helpful bar person directs us to beverages that suit our individual needs and we proceed through to the renovated beer garden where Strop proceeds to break her knee on an over-sized steel girder holding up our table. It could easily hold up the harbour bridge but has been given lighter duties, no doubt in the service of irony. (Ha!)

The beer garden is airy and feels more spacious than on previous visits. The covid marshall wears a jaunty high-vis sash, and the place is full of families and young children, some of whom are intent on driving their prams, and their hovering fathers, to the edges of navigation. I am tempted by the offerings on the blackboard, but Strop reins in my impulsiveness by reminding me to save myself for Thai La Ong.

On that self-righteous note we drink up and head for the pre-dinner rendezvous at the Courty. Where we run into the Chippy just getting off his bicycle. Timing, eh?

While he finds a convenient pole to chain up to, Strop and I form an orderly queue outside the pub. Covid rules. Numbers restricted. Scan here. Wait there. Some people go out. Some go in. More people go out, we go in. For our convenience, and to avoid crowding around the bar, we can order with our phone. What a wonderful world. Just download the app, create a log in, nominate a payment method, no, not that one, try again, what was it you wanted? Beers. Anything else?

It took a while—about as long as it took for us to start doubting that the system actually worked—but a jug of Coopers and three glasses arrived eventually. Cheers.

Having mastered the system, and anticipating delays, we order more beers. And chips.

The Stropolina and Lagilou arrived. Cheers. Lemonade. More beers. Cheers.

Eventually we peeled ourselves off our stools and headed onto a twilit Kings Street. The crowds were a bit of a freak out for us country folk. Narrow pavements. Single-file negotiations. Strop and I rubber-necking, playing spot the difference.

“Didn’t this used to be…” “Yeah, but look, that place is still there.” “Is it open?” “Hard to tell…”

Definitely no frozen yoghurt places. Still a few burger joints. Plenty of Thai. Perhaps a bit more Turkish.

And Thai La Ong was still there, right where we left it.

Not as busy as in pre-covid days. Almost empty, in fact. It was still early because we were dining with a two-year old, but I imagine that the absence of international students has devastated the cheaper end of King Street’s restaurant business.

But looking on the bright side, they had plenty of room for our little party and Lagilou wasn’t going to disturb any intimate romantic dinners. After a while we realised that there was a steady stream of helmeted take-away riders coming and going. That’s where the customers were—at home, watching Netflix.

Complimentary prawn crackers arrived and were devoured. Then we had to remember the rules of ordering.

Number 37. Ginger Stir Fry. With chicken.

Mussaman curry. Spicy rice with pork belly. Pad See Ew. Duck salad. Boiled rice.

Yum.

Strop and the Chippy distracted Lagilou with drawings of motorbikes until the food arrived.

Yummo.

Duck salad—know what I mean? Ma-ate, you don’t get that in Bermi. Pad See Ew, yum. Pork belly, yes please.

The only real disappointment was the Mussaman which was tough and overly sweet.

We wended our weary way back along King Street in the wake of Lagilou, who wielded a rainbow flavoured icecream cone as if it was a wand, bestowing blessings on all, and asking “What’s your name?” A fitting end to another memorable episode of the quest.

Three Queens – Back before the beginning

November 8, 2015 by Andrew Christie 3 Comments

We first noticed Three Queens when we did a bit of a retrospective of the changing King Street scene. What used to be a closed up and unlamented pizza joint was reborn as a bright and airy café on the corner of King and Forbes Streets. Right next door to Izote Mexican, one of our old favourites. So when a breakfast outing was called for, Three Queens sprung to the top of our reQuest list.

The name of the café is apparently a reference to the three owners, two of whom started a café in Surry Hills called St Jude’s, that I have never heard of. So there you go: research done.

There is no actual big brekkie option at Three Queens, which immediately freed us from the usual café Rule. Strop decided to continue with her current fritter-esque fetish and chose the Potato and Lemon Thyme Hash Cakes. I decided on the Queen Plate, as this seemed likely to be the Three Queens’ signature dish and, therefore, equivalent to a big brekky. Also it came with poached egg and leg ham, which is a good basis for any breakfast. The juice choice was limited to orange, which is what I wanted anyway but I’m pretty sure Strop would have chosen something with ginger and dew siphoned from the hairy legs of Himalayan spiders, or some such exotic and trendy ingredient. She tends to keep up with such things, while I am busy watching TV shows about zombies. I think that is the secret to the success of our relationship; she gives me space to study techniques for killing the undead, and I don’t send her up. Anyway, the juice was sweet and cold, and deliciously refreshing.

The café is spacious and light, and refreshingly un-grungy, even with its polished concrete floor. There are big windows, and shelves with plants and carefully selected ‘random’ bric-a-brac. The windows are great to watch the passing parade on the footpath outside. At one point Strop exclaimed, “It’s really funny when people look like their dogs. Especially when they’re pugs.” People watching is our kind of spectator sport.

While not full, Three Queens did a steady trade in takeaway coffee, and seemed to be selling quite a lot of bacon and egg rolls, to hi-vis wearing tradies. There must be a construction site nearby. We had plenty of time to ponder such things as our food seemed to be taking quite a while to come, and a couple of other tables that had arrived after us had already been served. Normally we wouldn’t have noticed such things but, as I said, we had time on our hands. Happily though, the senior staff member on duty, who may have been one of the aforementioned Queens, noticed our wait, and apologised offering free coffees. Which was a really nice and considerate touch. Apparently they had a few new staff members, and a bit of on-the-job training was happening in the kitchen. The floor staff were very good, and very polite. Every thank you from us was greeted with a crisp you’re welcome in reply.

When our food did arrive it was worth the wait. Strop’s potato cakes were very good, and so was my Queen Plate. The poached egg was perfectly cooked, the ham tasty, and it came with an excellent eggplant pickle. The only let down was the labneh, which I have always thought was overrated.

We were having such a good time that we decided to have dessert with our complimentary coffee. Banana bread with ginger butter, it was as good as it sounds. The coffee was good and strong too, I’d have been happy to pay for it.

After breakfast we wandered back along King Street, checking out the ever-changing urban fabric of Newtown.

Luyu & Yum Yum – Babetown vs the King of Newtown

September 26, 2015 by Andrew Christie Leave a Comment

Okay its been a while. So long in fact that the few notes I took on the night are mostly meaningless now. I mean, New York shoes, what could that refer to? Anyone? Now that I’m showing visible signs of ageing, I must take more meaningful notes – the old memory is not what it used to be. Either that or write things up sooner.

Anyway, what I do remember about this particular outing was that it was a lot of fun. Strop organised it as an excuse for us to go back to Luyu & Yum Yum for their dumplings which are both yummy and spectacularly presented. However, from my point of view the main draw for returning was actually their whisky sours variants. These are called King of Newtown on the cocktail list, come with a culturally appropriate sprinkling of tea leaves on top, and are delicious.

Strop decided that as Luyu & Yum Yum could accommodate their various dietary pecadillos, she would invite the Stropolina and her housemates, collectively known as Babetown along on this outing. As it turned out, the Eleanor part of Babetown was unable to attend due to breaking her wrist playing netball. So while she was stuck at home with only a handful of serious painkillers for company, the rest of the team kept Strop and me company in Newtown.

The Babetown-lite faction was made up of Katherine, Jess and the Stropolina. They were joined by Maddy, one of their mates, who helped maintain the symmetry of our table. Strop and I had carefully positioned our aging and wrinkled forms facing each other in the middle of the table, so that we would haved gorgeous young things on either side, ready to give us a polite and caring poke if we happened to exhibit any embarrassing symptoms of ageing. Such as falling asleep or dribbling.

Luyu &Yum Yum is a relative newcomer to King St. It moved in to the upstairs space that used to be occupied by Paju BBQ, and transformed what was a bit of a barn of a space into something much darker and sexier. At one end there is a glassed in kitchen full of sizzling woks and bamboo steamers, at the other end is a screened off space with tables for large parties. In between there is a bar and lots of tables which mostly seem to be occupied.

There are plenty of staff out on the floor and in the kitchen. All very friendly and efficient. First order of business was drinks, and I successfully managed to convince everyone to try a King of Newtown to start with. Everyone said they enjoyed them, but I did notice that a couple of Babetowners switched to other cocktails for the next round. Oh well, more sour whisky for me I suppose.

Luyu & Yum Yum is a high concept dumpling joint. The little steamy or crispy parcels are like the Faberge of dumplings. Artful and yummy, and likely to dump a burst of hot tasty soup in your mouth when you bite into them. Some are shaped like hedgehogs or white rabbits (complete with red eyes), some just look like dumplings. All are yummy.

Despite my wish to go off the reservation and try things that weren’t actually dumplings, Strop and Babetown were adamant that they were happy just to have lots of dumplings. And cocktails.

The room was quite noisy, so even the young people were cupping their hands around their ears in order to hear what was being said on the other side of the table. It was Friday night and I have a theory that people are louder on Friday nights after they have been let out of work for the weekend. The pent up pressure of a week’s worth of quiet desperation leads to a quick and noisy release. And there was music too, which appealed to Babetown and resulted in a little bit of seat dancing when they thought no one was looking. They decided the music selection sounded like the So Fresh 2001 compilation (back when they were ~13 year olds!).

I just remembered what the New York shoes note referred to. The Stropolina was telling a long and involved story about trying to buy some special designer shoes for her cousin’s eighteenth birthday when she was in New York recently – the point of which still escapes me. Oh well I suppose it’s some progress. What about Who’s Hannah? Anyone have any ideas what that might mean?

It’s great to see places like Luyu & Yum Yum opening up in King Street. Smart, fun and yummy, Asian with style and attitude. More of that please. Next time I go I want to try some of their teas, and the non-dumpling offerings.

Luyu & Yum Yum – Level 1, 196 King St, Newtown

273 Bangkok Bites – fast and furious Thai for the movies

August 23, 2015 by Andrew Christie 5 Comments

Well, that didn’t take long.

This is our first go at repainting the bridge and it’s a great chance to check out the changing face of King Street. We haven’t been idle during our short hiatus. We made a pilgrimage back to where it all started at Number 6 where we had lovely quiet meal at Izote. We’ve also checked out Luyu &Yum Yum, which definitely deserves further investigation and a post of its own – if only for the chance to have another of their wonderful whisky sours. Excursions up and down the coast have revealed quite a few culinary highlights including Vietnamese at Newcastle with Camilla and Tim, burgers and retro rock at Catherine Hill Bay pub, home cooked chicken-in-milk courtesy of Peter and Zena down in the banjo picking hills of Cobargo, and a Quarterdeck breakfast on the inlet at Narooma with Lisa and Greg. So much food, so little time. Oh well, we can only eat what is put in front of us, I suppose.

You know you're on the south coast when... — You know you’re on the south coast when…

Bangkok Bites is a relative newcomer to the King Street midlands, replacing the unlamented Simply Noodles. Whereas its predecessor was for a long time, grey and empty, Bangkok Bites is all colour and movement with plenty of saliva inducing smells coming from the kitchen. The decor and the set up is reminiscent of the original Chat Thai, although there aren’t people queueing outside to get in. Not yet anyway. The new restaurant is located in a prime position, close to the cinema and promotes itself as bringing a taste of Bangkok street food to King Street. They certainly have the staff to provide quick turnarounds. Strop counted six in the kitchen and four on the floor. Vroom.

As we were shown to our seats, it was clear that they had squeezed as many tables as possible into the space available – I had to step into the very busy corridor to remove my jacket, holding up the progress of three waitresses. As one poured us glasses of water she told us that the establishment is cash only and BYO. Important to establish the ground rules up front. Luckily we had come prepared with folding stuff fresh from the ATM and a nice little bottle of pinot grigio. The other clientele were all couples of various denominations, presumably lots of date nights going on. It’s not really the place for big group tables, Thai Pothong has that scene pretty much sown up anyway. The colour scheme features lots of red and yellow, with occasional bursts of flames from the kitchen.

The menu is a comprehensive full-colour large-format booklet, full of graphic stylings that match the graffiti mural along the main wall of the restaurant. I went straight to number 37 which turned out to be a noodle dish, oddly called Buddy Bites Noodles. I didn’t read any further, I was just glad not to have to count my way through the menu. Strop fancied Kung Fu Fritters because she is a sucker for corn fritters as should be clear by now. We also continued our duck salad tradition.

The young couple at the table next to us were drinking coke in fake jam jars (handles? can we please end this madness), and having a deep and meaningful discussion about Game of Thrones, how the women have the best storylines (hmm possibly… except for the short guy), and how someone was “not long for this world,” however it was unclear just which world they were referring to. That’s how close the tables are.

Our food arrived quickly and the servings were large. Very large. Number 37 was first, piled high with noodles and dotted with slices of chicken and beef (oh, so that’s the buddy reference, I should have read the fine print). The flavours were clean and fresh but a bit sweet for me – maybe due to the chilli jam marinade used on the chicken. The duck salad was daunting too, basically a roast duck breast, sliced thickly and laid out on a bed of lettuce. On further investigations there were lots of salad bits and dressing hidden under the duck. And it tasted great, just a slightly deconstructed take on salad. Plenty of luscious duck, looking as if it was still waiting for a formal introduction to the onion and coriander. The fritters were tasty and crunchy, and came with big wedges of fried tofu. I ate them because they were crunchy but I still don’t see the point of tofu.

Bangkok Bites is a hectic and tasty experience. The staff are efficient and attentive despite occasionally sprinting from one end of the restaurant to the other. It’s a great place for a pre or post movie meal, and I’m sure it will give the Italian Bowl a run for its money.

We enjoyed the food, but were defeated by its sheer volume, and had to request a takeaway container to take the excess home. I’m looking forward to those leftovers.

Our journey home was slightly delayed when Strop was taken by the window display next door at Hum. She was taking photos of The Killing DVD box set because she wanted to copy the knitting pattern. Very Strop.