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Andrew Christie

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gyoza

212 Minoya – I blame the tree

January 30, 2016 by Andrew Christie 4 Comments

minoya1
The Friday-night thousand-yard stare. The woman needs a beer.

On the Friday night of a strange, disjointed week, the weather was having its usual effect on Sydney’s transport. A couple of thunderstorms in the middle of the day meant that the trains would be stuffed until the following day, so Strop and I were going to be a bit late rather than the half an hour early that I had anticipated. No quiet beer beforehand this week.

The target for tonight, the first actual, on-Enmore-Road eatery of the Encore, was a Japanese restaurant. We had thought it was called Oganoya, but it seems to have mysteriously changed his name to Minoya, according the the sign outside. Luckily, it was still Japanese, so the bottle of Reisling I had bought at the bottle shop, wouldn’t go to waste.

Strop and I arrived within minutes of each other but there was no sign yet of Marie. Strop had warned her that we were running late, so she had no doubt adjusted her own travel plans. The room at Minoya is large and sparsely decorated. The main feature is a large and luridly autumnal, plastic Japanese Maple tree in the middle of the room. Like some sort of bento-based fairy tale, the room is frozen between summer and winter. We were directed to a table tucked behind the tree which I suspect may have contributed to some of the erratic service that followed.

Both Strop and I had been subjected to “interesting” work weeks, but now it was the weekend. We opted to save the wine for the moment and have a quick beer before Marie arrived. Strop decided she wanted an Asahi, so I took the other option and went Sapporo. Suffice it to say, I won the beer wars.

Marie arrived soon after we had determined which was the superior beer, and by inference the superior judge of a good ale. It turned out that Marie had been sitting in a bar on Enmore Road, having a pre-dinner drink of her own, and had seen both Strop and I hustling up the road, thinking we were late. Which we were, but as it turned out we needn’t have rushed. Marie had no sooner plonked herself down at the table, than her phone started ringing. She is a popular woman, obviously in demand, even by Strop’s standards.

When the phone calls had been dealt with, the conversation somehow flipped over to Marie’s arrival in Oz 37 years ago (she is originally a French-Canadian), and how she was disappointed when she arrived that no one spoke French. It does make you wonder about who teaches geography in Canadian schools though. As a 24-year-old world traveller, she ended up in Singapore with no money and no visa, so she did what all good travellers do. She married the first Australian she met. It seems to have worked out well for her though, she and her first husband are still good friends. Of course while Strop and I were taking all this in, we had been neglecting the menu. The waiter kept coming back, asking if we were ready to order yet. It was only when we decided to pay attention that we realised that they had only given us one menu. I thought maybe there was a global shortage of menus, but all the other tables seem to have plenty, so I think the maple tree is to blame. When we pointed this out to the waiter, he was very apologetic, but we still had to wait until he had seated a new table and taken their drink orders before we got any more menus.

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When we finally made some decisions, we ordered prawn gyoza, grilled eggplant and chicken karaage, to start and for mains, a sashimi platter and sizzling pork. While we waited for the food I grilled Marie about her Air BnB experiences. This was by way of research, my new book has a character who hosts an Air BnB, funnily enough, in a quite similar situation to Marie. This discussion soon veered away from the amount of time that tourists spend in showers, and skipped lightly over vanity-publisher rip-offs, our first Japanese restaurant experience (the Fuji Tempura Bar, of revered memory), travel reminiscences, children’s relationships, tertiary education, and the important question of which is more important in a friendship, loyalty or honesty.

Luckily the food turned out to be better than the service. The gyoza were plump and tasty, the eggplant meltingly delicious, and the chicken sweet and crunchy. The sashimi platter was generous and all the fish very fresh. It even came with a side salad that featured a wedge of orange. Always a welcome bonus. The sizzling pork came with lots of veggies and a sweet soy sauce. It was excellent too.

By this time, the first bottle of wine had disappeared. We asked the waiter for a bottle of sauv blanc from the menu. He was very apologetic again, explaining that his staff had only put one bottle of each white in the fridge that afternoon, so basically we could have a warm sauv blanc, or a cold Chardonnay. We went with the Chardy, even though this goes against Strop’s religion, she had drunk enough by this time to be agnostic on the issue.

The disappearance of the second bottle of wine coincided neatly with the disappearance of the last of the food. We took this as a sign and made our way out onto the street, where we battled our way through hordes of scantily clad and sweaty youngsters outside the Enmore Theatre, and paused for a quick dance to a 70s revival band, playing up a storm outside the Hub. A great way to finish our first Enmore Road outing.

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Filed Under: Encore, Uncategorized Tagged With: asahi, beer wars, gyoza, Japanese, sapporo, sashimi, wine

191 – Moshi Moshi Gyoza – Fun food that hits more than it misses

September 21, 2013 by Andrew Christie 1 Comment

191 moshi moshi gyoza

It’s a memorable name, but is it trying too hard to be cute? I was a bit dubious at first, but now I’m a convert. This place is full of cheerfulness and amusing eating. Just what we needed after a week of bad-news on the parental front.

“Let’s order first then talk,” said Strop un-bagging a bottle of WA riesling. I had spent the day filling in forms, and talking to aged-care and medical types, so alcohol and the promise of food was definitely called for before I started the latest Dad download.

We ordered a mixed bag of gyoza from the specials menu, to start, and teppan salmon, ramen with chicken and some edamame. The wait staff are all got-up in brightly coloured Japanese costumes, and they add to the general air of cheerfulness by greeting each new arrival with cries of “Moshi moshi.” And it’s not just the floor staff, the kitchen staff get in on the act too, in a kind of call-and-reply routine, shouting out more greetings from the back of the restaurant in response to the front of house greetings. Our waitress is the only anglo on the staff and seems a little bit nervous and tentative as she takes our order. I presume she must be new, learning the ropes etc. Poor girl, all those strange new Japanese foods to learn… until she shatters my presumptions by bellowing our order out to the kitchen in gutteral and nasal Japanese. Strop reckons the only thing she was nervous about was whether or not to correct our awful attempts at Japanese pronunciation.

Our table is near the front so we have a good view of the passing parade on the footpath. I point out a large group of gorgeous young things in short skirts and tall heels tottering past, no doubt on their way to happy hour at Kuleto’s. “Write that down,” says Strop pointing at my closed notebook. So I do as I’m told.

Strop in front of colourful calligraphy
Strop in front of colourful calligraphy

The edamame arrives first and keeps the alcohol company as I update Strop. Then the rest of the food arrives very quickly, so we stop talking and get stuck straight into the task of serious eating. I think I’ve only ever had one type of gyoza before so the mixed gyoza plate is is a whole new experience. Mushroom gyoza? Prawn gyoza with the tail sticking out the top? Who knew? Cheese gyoza? With tomato sauce for dipping? It is all strange and fascinating and somehow very Japanese. It is also extremely yummy. The teppan salmon is fantastic too, tender and tasty. The ramen is disappointing though. It is made with instant noodles which have soaked up most of the stock, and the egg is hard-boiled. But the stock is tasty and the chicken balls are really good. So swings and roundabouts. Strop is reminded of a Japanese film about a ramen restaurant (from the days when we used to go to Japanese films).

“It had a cowboy hat wearing truck driver.”

“Yeah, I remember, and an old guy who was like a ramen whisperer.”

“And that sexy scene with the live prawn flapping around on the girls stomach.”

“Was that the same film?”

“I think so.”

“But what was it called?”

“No idea.”

Excellent Japanese plates and gratuitous use of lens cap
Excellent Japanese plates and gratuitous use of lens cap

Strop and I are feeling no pain by this stage and opt for the dessert menu. Yes, we are pleased to confirm that they do have dessert gyoza. And how could we not try them out? What kind of woosie correspondents would that make us? Exactly. So we order the apple and cinnamon and the banana and chocolate. And they are excellent. The banana turns out to be a small refined version of that venerable suburban Chinese restaurant standard, the banana fritter. And the apple is a kind of crispy reconstructed apple pie. More yums.

“Tampopo!”

“Bless you.”

“No that’s the film.”

And so it was. I thought the name had something to do with flowers but she’s right. Memory is a funny old thing. Loved that prawn scene.

We cruise past a few bookshops on the stumble home, before self-medicating with chocolate and whisky in front of the telly. Simple Pleasures.

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Moshi Moshi Gyoza on Urbanspoon

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: banana fritter, dessert, Food, gyoza, Japanese, King Street, moshi moshi, Newtown, restaurants, Tampopo

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