Lucky Me

When I was a little girl in Launceston, "Lucks Corner" was the little butcher in town just up the street from the umbrella shop. I loved the umbrella shop, it seemed old fashioned and mysterious. Then one day the man who sold umbrellas died. The story was he dropped dead behind the counter, with a thin stream of smoke rising from his still-lit cigarette. That's the legend anyway.

Lucks Butchers was a typical small town butcher. Plastic grass, plastic sheep and cows. Big burly butcher blokes behind the counter. But not anymore.

Lucks has been transformed into a classy restaurant. The type that Launceston is becoming famous for. The service is exemplary. Make sure you take the opportunity to seek recommendations for wines matched to your meal.

There was recent chatter on this sight about jamon ... I'm a fan. Lucks does it beautifully.

It's not cheap, by Launceston standards. Pricewise it's on a par with Marque IV or [boo hoo] Choux Shop. The decor is just gorgeous. Imported wallpaper in blue and gold gives an elegant air, with the stunning vintage French 'Lido' billboard hogging the attention from behind the bar. There is a private dining room / wine cellar ... which I am just dying to find an excuse to get a truckload of friends to Launceston for.

Check out their website (which doesn't do the place full justice) - www.lucks.com.au. Unfortunately the online menu is a bit out of date, but it gives you the general idea. And wait til you see the 36 page interactive wine list!

Lucks is worth the drive to Launceston. Make a weekend of it. They do breakfast and lunch too. Maybe if you take a sleeping bag they'll let you camp in the wine cellar all weekend. My idea of heaven!

GW

China Syndrome

Sen's is gone. My Sunday hangover cure is no more. To be replaced with a Nando's ... This is a sick joke, right?

Believe me, I know the bain-marie at Sen's was the spawn of satan. But anyone eating from a bain-marie deserves what they get. Sen's did great yum cha. In the early days they did the trolleys. So exciting, and such an incitement to gluttony and speed eating. But the trolleys were unsustainable and a la carte yum cha was the result. But it was fine. Lovely dumplings, great Peking Duck Rolls, and what a wonton soup. Once you strayed away from the yum cha, things were perhaps a bit dodgy, but who wants beef in black bean sauce anyway?

Sen's is gone. And so begins my Chinese restaurant odyssey in search of a semi-authentic, hangover curing replacement. The first steps in this journey were taken hangoverless, to ensure I had my wits about me. First stops were Ming Court and the Oriental, both in Sandy Bay. Ming Court does great stuffed mushrooms, fairly average Mongolian Beef ... and Peking Duck is not on their standard menu. The Oriental does a lovely wonton soup (certainly in contention to become a Sunday hangover cure - except they don't open for lunch) and fantastic hot pots. I've sampled both the Emperor's Hot Pot and the seafood version. Delicious ... but you have to order Peking Duck 24 hours in advance.

My next stop could perhaps be Har Wee Yee in North Hobart or Flourishing Court on Macquarie St. But neither of these is open for Sunday lunch either. And I'm afraid to say that even though Castle Zayee in Lenah Valley advertises yum cha, the fact that they advertise "Asian and Western Cuisine" leaves them out of the race.

I've got my fingers crossed that Golden Harbour on the waterfront might fit the bill. Although when I rang at lunch time the other day to ask if they do yum cha ... they didn't answer the phone.

Once upon a time I could rely on Sen's to cure my fuzzy head with their clear broths and sweet hoi sin dipped Peking Duck. I could just turn up and eat myself to wellness. Perhaps the long-promised Mee Wah will one day materialise and all will be right in the world.

GW

Sweet White Flesh

It's crayfish season. Crayfish, crayfish, crayfish. Sucking the flesh from those spiny red legs. Tearing the meat from the tail and sliding it strip by strip into my mouth.

I love crayfish. I can't dive, but my friends can. And do. Why, this very weekend I lazed on the beach while the aquatic-types did their wetsuit-clad thing (no cray pots for them - this in hands on!). From the shore, watching their black neoprene bums bobbing I fantasised about wearing some Esther Williams style swimsuit and diving to the ocean floor, wrestling a cray from his rocky lair and springing to the surface, hair gleaming. At the end of this particular fantasy I walk triumphantly to the shore like Ursula Andress, knife strapped to my thigh. Instead, I satisfy myself with the knowledge that, although I may look more like Shelly Winters in the Poseidon Adventure than Ursula Andress and couldn't catch a cray to save myself, I can eat more crayfish than anyone else I know. In some circles that is akin to drinking a Russian under the table, vodka for vodka. Mmmm ... vodka and crayfish. Oooh, what a combination.

Aahh, crayfish season. How I love thee. And have you seen the great fat scallops this season? What's not to love about this place?

GW

p.s. Yes I know. Crayfish is not a restaurant. Get over it.

Stumped

I'm stumped and I'm spewing. Not only do I have no idea where to go to dinner tomorrow night, I just wrote a great blog rave about this frustration, only to lose my musings into the bland blogosphere.

Now I'm really, really cross.

And none the wiser re where to go for dinner. Oh, why is it so hard. We're a capital city. We have lots of clever people here. And we have lots of great produce. The sinful fact is I'm bored. Bored, bored, bored.

I want somewhere new, or at least somewhere with a new menu. What happened to all those promises of exciting new playpens for all us little hoglets. What happened to the new Mee Wah in Magnet Court? And what happened to Ruby Chard. Oh, I'm so tired of waiting Chris, just put us all out of our misery.

Lately this site has run the risk of becoming a travelogue for the overpaid and undersexed. Why? Because there is stuff all to say about the local scene. Yes, yes, I know. Lots of people are doing great things here. But greatness is only great the first or second time. By dinner number three, staring down the same menu ain't all it's cracked up to be.

So, here I am. Stumped, cranky, and bored. Better have another glass of wine.

GW.

The Sheep is Back

Goodness ... That took longer than I expected! Time melts in Vietnam: days, weeks, they roll into months. Or at least they would have if I'd been able to extend my visa. Stayed on in Hanoi for an extra couple of weeks with some friends of my travel buddy. For those of you planning your own sojourn to Vietnam (you're right anon, everyone is going - don't be scared to join them, it's amazing) - here are some handy hints:

1. Beware the Lonely Planet curse!

Any time we ventured into a Lonely Planet endorsee we were swamped with westerners. Service was stretched and food was not on par with less well-known venues. Oh, and naturally these places were more expensive than other/better places. The famous Brothers Cafe in Hanoi was hideous - a buffet (why oh why) of luke warm food. Nuh uh. Not me. Lemongrass in Saigon was the scene of an Aussie punch-up in the street over who was first in line for the next available table! Ugh.

2. When is Ho Chi Minh City - go the royal cuisine!

Nam Ka in Dong Khoi St - This is a very expensive (by Vietnamese standards) option, but well worth it if you can afford a couple of hundred bucks for an amazing meal. Had birds nest soup with REAL birds nest in it (made of - no, not sticks - gelatinous bird vomit!). The food is heavily influenced by what I imagine is imperial Chinese cuisine (shark fin, lotus seed, etc) - Chinese culture has a strong influence throughout Vietnam. China is, after all, only a hop-skip-jump away. For those whose budgets don't stretch this far ... still in Dong Khoi St, try Oso - it's neon slogan out front says it all: No Pay, No Delicious

3. Local Cuisine Favourites

In Hoi An I devoured 'White Roses' (see photo below) by the bucket load. They are delicate dumplings made with tiny puffs of prawn meat in the middle. Yum yum yum. Try Dalat wine - a bit rough for the first few sips, but after that you won't care - you're on holidays and it's cheap! In Ho Chi Minh City don't miss the women on the street sides selling freshly made French-style waffles - they are crispy-crunchy and sweet and made on the spot over little braziers.

4. Throughout Vietnam the word to watch is SALAD!

Lotus root salad. Green mango salad. Banana flower salad. Green papaya salad. Just dive in face first. You'll be as addicted as I was. This is probably what I'll miss most about Vietnam (apart from the amazing people I met along the way).

5. Wine, gin, and jazz

Watch out for ice in some places. Cheaper places often won't put ice in your mixed drinks, cos the water's not so good. Mid-range places will put ice smashed from larger lumps in your drink - we tended to avoid this ice. We found that ice in tubular form was fine. You'll find pretty broad wine lists in many places (Australian, New Zealand, American, French, and Italian wines) and plenty of gin. Ooooh yeah! There are some mighty funky bars and clubs in Ho Chi Minh City (try Manna - cigar/wine/jazz lounge, or the rooftop bar at the Caravelle).

6. Just wander and discover

Vietnam is a safe place to travel. We tended to wander the streets, stumbling from gorgeous local bar to delicious local restaurant. Much more enjoyable and relaxed than the frenzied search for the latest recommendation-du-jour from Lonely Planet, HRB, or the like. Just wander and find your own way.

So that's it. I loved Vietnam. Vietnam loved me back (as evidenced by my sleek, fat belly).

And back to earth ... what have I missed?

GW ;-)

Georgie Goes Abroad ... Again!

Don't love Christmas? Join the club! My best mate and I decided to avoid the blasted business this year and jetted off this morning like a couple of naughty girls sneaking off for a fag behind the bike shed. Currently I'm in the international departure lounge chomping on bad sushi, which I don't mind at all cos ... We're going to Vietnam! She's been before, but the closest I've been to Vietnam is learning how to make rice paper rolls. But I don't do that particularly well, so I'm excited to taste the real delight.

Have a merry Christmas all. Thanks for the lively debate in 2006, looking forward to boring you senseless in 2007!

GW xx

p.s. The REAL hot gossip is ...

Santa WON'T be coming to:

1. Francisco's - for being miserly with the seafood on their banquet
2. Chris Jackman - for making me wait so damn long for Ruby Chard (Pleeeeeeassse Chris, I'm dying here!)
3. Island Cafe and Criterion Cafe - For taking their reputations for granted and providing crap customer service
4. Georgie Weston - For being a grumpy old bitch (but I'll be in Vietnam without a chimney, so bah humbug!)

Santa WILL be coming to:

1. Marque IV - For maintaining high standards in the kitchen (if not the bedroom) all year
2. Chris Jackman - For every fab minute of Choux Shop
3. Three Windows in Oatlands - For making THE best coffee on the Midlands

Hot Gossip

Now that we've all finished fantasising about lapdancers (see previous comments), I thought I'd share a tantalising piece of gossip that recently filtered through the mire.

Ms Read (of Mercury fame) plus Ben (of fab coffee at Marque IV fame) are reported to be an item. We probably don't care. We probably don't care that Ms Read wrote a fabulous bit about Marque IV in the Merc on 18 Nov. We probably don't care that she quoted chef Paul Foreman waxing lyrical about the delish coffees produced by said Ben. We probably also don't care that apparently Ben is a part-owner of Marque IV.

Not that you care, cos none of us listen to gossip anyway.

GW ;-)

p.s. Got goss you want to share without getting busted? Email me.

Tinkering for Tinkering's Sake

Breakfast at Timeless Way ...

Cafe Latte:

• Hot milk in glass Irish Coffee mug, dash of cinnamon on top
• Coffee served in a separate steel jug

Pour coffee into your mug of milk - lose crema along the way

Poached eggs on toast:

• Two eggs poached in egg rings served on a large white plate
• Two slices of toast in a basket wrapped in a napkin

Place toast on plate, then carefully lift egg onto toast. This is only achievable if your eggs are poached to almost 'hard boiled' standard (which, of course, they were)

Need I say more?

GW.

The Ugly Fish Unmasked

To all you Ay-mairy-cens, Happy Halloween. To myself I say, Happy Belated 2nd Birthday, HRB. It was a bit of an anti-climax.

It started with a hangover.

How unusual, you might say.

It is truly a sad statement of fact. Sen's was closed so I had no alternative. Sunday lunch at Fish 349. Why have I been so reluctant to try this place? Is it the polished concrete floors? Is it the colouring-in pencils? Is it the 'we cater to all tastes' menu? Or could it be the proclamation that "Take Out" is available?

So. Sen's was closed. No duck rolls for me. No wonton soup. Just a hangover and a second choice for lunch. We huffed in through the sliding glass doors and sat ourselves down. Thankfully there were no children screaming about the place. I was in the mood to stab someone with a fork.

My spirits lifted when I spied yummy-sounding stuff on the specials menu. Coconut prawns sounded good. But tempura oysters? Why, why, why? We ordered some oysters, au naturel of course. We had some garlic prawns on skewers and (to be perverse) some "tempura" scallops.

This is becoming a bit of a catch-cry of mine, but the tempura was "not a tempura's arse hole". The oysters were much less than fresh (trust me, I've been hoovering oysters into my face all month). The grilled prawns had that whiteness to them that whispers "I've been frozen for months", and they tasted a bit like garlic infused old bus tickets.

Having a hangover, one tends to scoff what is placed before one. With or without grace. So we scoffed and grumbled through full mouths. I muttered something about "see I told you so" and "could have had duck rolls" and "how dare Sen's be closed". We sat for a while, nattering. The plates sat and listened. They sat and listened so long that I detected a waft of foul prawn guts coming from the leftover tails. The Fish wasn't full; there weren't many people about at all. But still the plates sat.

Fish 349 is the kind of place where you stand at the counter to order and pay on the spot. As classless as I find this practice, at least it meant we could walk out without delay when the smell became overpowering.

Phew. What a stench. But you know what they say … ‘never eat an ugly fish’*.

GW the HRB
;-)

* Ellis RM, Jelinek GA. Never eat an ugly fish: three cases of tetrodotoxin poisoning from Western Australia. Emerg Med 1997; 9: 136-142

Spice Up My Life

Sigiri used to do an authentic curry. A chicken curry consisted of a bowl of curry with a chicken drumstick sticking out. Similarly, a crab curry was a bowl of curry with a crab sticking out. I’m not kidding. Indie’s mother was in the kitchen doing all the cooking; Indie did front of house. The plastic table cloths mattered not a jot because the meals were cheap ($6 for a main) and damn good.

Sadly Sigiri went the way of all good things and invested in a bain marie. Standards dropped and Melbourne is now the worse for it.

So, when I read (admittedly a while ago) GP’s review of The Spice in Sandy Bay my curiosity was somewhat aroused. Allegedly, The Spice would prepare an Indian feast akin to what one might find in an Indian kitchen back home. All one had to do was ask.

Sadly, this wasn’t what we found. My sisters invited me out to The Spice recently in search of a Sigiri-style inspiration. We were very politely informed that the kitchen would prepare our dishes – from the menu – a bit hotter if we liked. That was it. Because, of course, all the dishes on the menu are ‘authentic’.

Well, bugger me.

The service at The Spice was very friendly and welcoming. We were quite happy with the dishes we ate (although they weren’t hot enough after all, but that’s just us being bogans). The ambience was a bit too bright though, dampening the mood.

GP’s review was stuck to the wall inside the front door. Mocking me.

Taking It Sloe

Accidental discovery.

Leaning against the bar at T42 last night waiting for a friend, watching the night unfold. I spied a table of revellers. They all seemed to be drinking the same thing. It looked like Ribina on ice. Surely that can't be right.

I waited.

Sure enough one of the party approached the bar. A long explanation to the bartender followed her request for "More Icelandic vodka please."

Que?

Turns out this Icelandic vodka is called Ursus Roter. It is red. That's right, red vodka. From Iceland. Not only is it red vodka from Iceland, it's infused with sloe berries. Yes, the berries that aren't fast. And are famous for being a part of the Sloe Gin phenomenon.


Being the adventurous type I said to the barkeep "Barkeep ... I'll have what she's having."

Two shots of Ursus Roter, juice of half a lime and quarter of a lemon, over ice. No soda.

Ohmygodeffie, that's amazing!

The first sip bites your tongue, but from then on it's smooth sailing. It's tart, yet sweet, without being girlie (there were definitely blokes at the revelry table drinking it). The bottle has cavorting pandas on the label. After a couple of these babies I was ready to cavort with a panda or two myself.

My friend duly arrived. Noting my bright cheeks she asked if I'd just jogged to Teef in my stilettos. Nah, much better. I introduced her to the Icelandic bears. We were very happy.

GW.

Stuff and Nonsense

Holy dooley, a month has flown by and where have I been? Nowhere good it might seem, but not exactly true!

Attended the Stephen Snow (Fins in Byron Bay) degustation at Barilla Bay. Food was awesome, but nothing less than would be expected of Mr Snow. Stand out dish (surprise, surprise) featured Barilla Bay oysters touched with a light puff of wasabi foam (tasting for all the world like sea water - beautiful). Seems that this is likely to be a semi-regular event so watch out for future offerings at Barilla Bay who, by the way, are now open for Friday night drinkies. Cool if you live out that way, expensive if you're relying on taxis to avoid the booze bus.

Following recent chatter about Choux Shop in Victoria Street I wandered by to see for myself. The menu on the wall did indeed declare that Choux was on a winter break until some date long past. Indeed, they would reopen under the name "Ruby Chard". I am led to believe (from a very unreliable source) that a personal tragedy is behind the closure [** this rumour since reported to be false**]. We all wish Chris and the staff well, and hope to see them in their new guise soon.

Marque IV's star chef is leaving the apple isle to work in the big apple with the loud-mouthed pommie bloke. To celebrate/commiserate his departure there is to be a $200 per head degustation at M-IV at the end of the month. Blast and damnation, I will be away that weekend! Will be very interested to note their progress following his departure, but I'm sure a strategy has been nutted out (fingers firmly crossed).

GW

I've Got the Googles

Following a tip from Binjeing Ninja, I googled myself and found that Elizabeth Meryment, aka the Food Detective from the Weekend Australian (clearly lacking in the "detective" department), had quoted liberally from this blog in a discussion about Choux, but somehow managed to get the name of the site wrong. Hark, we have been rechristened the Hobart Dining Bitch.
http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,20867,20009601-32683,00.html

And here I was, thinking journalists always checked their facts. Silly me! But c'est la vie, nice to be noticed on the big island (even if only because she was trying to track down Choux).

But never fear, Ms Meryment (surely that's not your real name), according to word on the street, Choux is closed for renovations. Shame about the answering machine, I agree. This issue of unanswered phones does seem to be a recurrent problem at Choux. I wonder if they've thought of call diversion?

On the topic of googling oneself (admit it, we all do it), I also found Restaurant 373 had cut and pasted my review onto their website for promotional purposes. An unexpected outcome, but I can't grumble. I like to give praise where it's due. And then I like to rip out the eyes of unsuspecting waiters and eat their children.

Oh, whoops, maybe that's the Hobart Dining Bitch?

Dinner with The Don

No, not THAT Don!

Recently talk of Italian got me hungry for pasta. Off we trotted to Don Camillo in Sandy Bay. I always liked their "Streets of San Francisco" styled decor. It's gone. Well, some of it's gone. They still have the red and white check table cloths, and the very chic retro 70s table lamps. But the room is a bit too white, and the black venetian blinds don't grab me. But the menu hasn't changed a jot.

Forgiving my Italian, the Scallopini al Funghi (veal with creamy mushies) was devine. Tender (mooooo) and juicy. The Fettucine Puttanesca (anchovies, olives and spicy tomato - scrum!) was great too. Oysters were ocean-salty and fresh. The slow-roasted goat was succulent, but a bit fatty.

Great gelato, but fabulous affogato. Mmm, coffee, frangelico, and home made vanilla ice cream! And might I add, the coffee was one of the best darn espressos I'd had in a while.

Good one. Shame the new decor feels a bit cold, but the food made up for it on the night.

Breakfast at Sweetheart's

... the coffee's hot, and the toast is brow-ow-own

I'm not going to talk about breakfast, but thinking about coffee got me humming some tasty Chisel. Pardon my inner shazza rising forth.

My day typically starts with a large plunger of strong black coffee. I tend to guzzle the lot and am surprised when visitors to my office look thirstily at said plunger expecting me to share. Later in the day I might have a latte followed by another plunger if I'm struggling to maintain consciousness. Well all right, that's an exaggeration. But I have become rather partial to my plunger, long and black.

Having given the supermarket brands the heave-ho I've fallen in lust with the java from Tas Coffee Roasters in Sandy Bay. The raven haired girl behind the coffee counter told me she mixes a bit of this and a bit of that to create her own personal blend. Perhaps it's time I started a bit of alchemy myself. Ah, the next step in my coffee edumacation.

Looking back over very early entries to this site sees me enjoying a Hudson's latte. My how a girl can change. I can't drink their coffee now. Maybe I've grown up. Regular readers will know my fave haunt recently has been Lansdowne Cafe (they use robusta beans, not arabica, much bettera). Took a luscious latte away from Criterion St the other day, but can't say much for Dukkah or Delicious in Elizabeth St. Of course I still heart T42.

But all you uni students ... how do you survive on that coffee from Lazenbys? It is atrocious.

A Guts on the Loose in Melbourne

Aaah Melbourne. Don't you just love it?

We lunched at Verge (http://www.vergerestaurant.com.au/) on the corner of Flinders Lane and Spring St. Just a hop-skip-jump across the road to Treasury Gardens. From the outside Verge looks little more than a bar-slash-cafe, but inside the warehouse-style environs is an airy loft-like upstairs dining room. The food is modern-European with a distinct Japanese influence. Stand-out dishes were the Zensai Moriawase (Japanese horses' doovers) and the Scallop Gyoza. Stylish, gorgeous. Just adored the wee baby-baby broad beans and the teensiest baby shitakes I've ever seen. Staff were excellent, although shaved eyebrows aren't the prettiest, boys.

Bellies full, we staggered around the city killing time. Aaah, Melbourne.

Dinner? What dinner? We hit the bars at 4:00pm and didn't look back. Starting at Syracuse ("Please", I said, "do you really want that Gunns-owned Tamar Ridge on your wine list? And how about some Jansz please??" - Ooops, is that the lawyer at the door again!). A bit stuffy (am I surprised after that outburst!), so we moved on to something a little more my style: The Love Lounge at Tony Starr's Kitten Club (http://www.kittenclub.com.au/splash.php) in Little Collins St. The Kitten Club, up a steep staircase, is famed for slinky martinis and if you find a nook in the Love Lounge (all pink velvet and dim lighting) you could wind up with pash rash before the night's out. Naturally I was very well behaved.

Next stop: Double Happiness in Liverpool St, Chinatown. This is the home of espresso martinis, Maoist propaganda posters, and little padlocked cubby holes for you to store your very own bottle of whiskey for next time. I don't have a bottle of whiskey but mmmm ... Espresso martiniiiiiiiiiis.

Next day we started all over again at Bokchoy Tang in Federation Square (http://www.bokchoytang.com.au/). The decor here is stunning. Cuisine is Northern Chinese with a modern edge. Being mere mortals (read: lazy/guts), we ordered the Banquet Menu II. Soon I was so stuffed I almost couldn't finish my share of the lobster. If I hadn't been gas-bagging when I should have been studying the sincerely comprehensive menu, in hindsight I would have ordered individual dishes - the dim sum or one of the prawn dishes. Needless to say, we came, we saw, we disgraced ourselves.
A tip for newcomers: Although you might think the toilets here are broken, the flush button is a mysterious dot on the chrome panel behind you. Very modern, very tricky.

We waddled back to our digs in St Kilda for a Nanna-nap. Stuffed and chockers are two words coming to mind. Star Wars are two more. We were slated for dinner at a fancy-schmancy restaurant, but couldn't face it. Stayed in with delish Thai take away and a DVD. I'm not match-fit, it's true.

Next day we did St Kilda, starting with a lazy breakfast and newspapers at Mash in Fitzroy St(http://www.mashrestaurant.com.au/). Great Eggs Benedict and damn good coffee. Lunch was at Purple Sands, a little yum cha joint in Acland St. Cheap and tasty. For dinner we trotted round the corner for tapas at Pelican in Fitzroy St. This place is fairly casual, but a bit of a 'scene', if that makes sense. The food is good and it's a favourite with the locals, I'm told.

I love Melbourne (does it show). Not so sure my arteries would agree. But as if to say "don't even think about it", the view from the aircraft as we flew over Tassie was crystal clear and stunning. A long trailing plume of bushfire smoke. Polished-glass lake-tops. Sun sinking behind Mt Wellington as we came in to land.

Aaah, Hobart. Such simple pleasures.

Have We All Finished Yet?

Right. That was fun. I've finished sitting in the corner with my arms crossed, holding my breath till I went blue. Thanks for all the great and most entertaining comments. Welcome Hobart Restaurant Veteran and Garrulous Gourmet, thank you Stephen, Zelda, and Christina, and Lord love all you anonymice!

Recent experiments with a low-carb high protein diet have left me vicious. Suddenly I want to take up smoking again and drink smooth neat whiskies. I've been gorging mega rib-eye steaks from the Hill St Butcher ... mmmm mouth is watering as we speak. But damn that protein's a killer. So today I let slithery oily salmon and prawn linguine slide down my throat at the Cornelian Bay Boathouse. Tasty, but way too oily. Coffee was average. Service was bloody excellent.

Speaking of coffee, what has happened to Dukkah? With the move to new premises we seem to have succumbed to the cafe-as-franchise model. I don't know what a "Red Star Concept" is, but they are now fully emblazoned with it. Coffee was good, but not as good as I remember.

On a musical note: Beertallica at The Trout on Saturday night was hilarious. My bladder barely withstood the mirth of be-locked boys thrashing their hair to and fro, arms around one another in a medieval embrace. Bless.

Sad news: One of the chefs at Lebrina is giving up on the chefing world. Recently overheard to say something along the lines of: Chefing in Hobart, what's the point?

Another one bites the dust, and my heart breaks.

GW the HRB (and lovin' it)
;-)

Bad Hair Day

We're all human, we have bad hair days, bad moods, lazy can't-be-bothered days. But when a much-loved restaurant has a bad night, it can be truly miserable. Such was my experience at the Choux Shop recently.

Usually Choux is a shining example of how everything can go right in restaurant-land.

Sadly on this occasion the usual gold-star service let them down. It began with a phone that wasn't answered and was followed by terribly slow drinks orders, a gin and tonic served with mostly melted ice, and waitresses who had lost their normal sparkling manner.

I love Choux, but the staff were clearly having a bad night. Perhaps something had gone wrong, as sometimes happens. Perhaps someone hadn't shown up for their shift. Perhaps someone was ill. Perhaps there'd been a blazing row in the kitchen. Or perhaps something terribly tragic that is none of our business had affected everyone's mood. Most likely we'll never know.

Choux. A great restaurant - but human after all.

GW.

Happy Mothers Day

Happy Mothers Day to those that have 'em.

GW xx

Restaurant 373 - North Hobart

Not to be confused with Fish xyz ... Restaurant 373 is a newbie in North Hobart in the old Lickerish spot next to the State Cinema.

That's right. Black Pepper has gone.

Restaurant 373 opened last week and we managed to stumble in spontaneously (see, this is how being a last-minute-larry can work in your favour). Menu was enticing and not too pricey (pork bellies, scallop risotto, kangaroo, and so on). Mains were under $30. Wine list was well put together and reasonably priced. Decor: Dark and moody with splashes of deep red. Service was personal and attentive, if a little too on the "everything ok?" side of things - but they've just opened and are naturally keen to see that all is as it should be.

Best of all ... we were surprised by their very generous take on the 'amuse-bouche' so popular in New York (yeah, as if I'd know). We sat, we drank, we ordered entree and mains. Out came a little plate with skinny bread sticks and olives. How pleasant. We drank some more. Then came some little bread rolls with some white bean dip. Nice. Then came an outstanding consomme of roast tomato with a disc of minted jelly (best stirred through we were advised). THEN came our entree and then our main (nicely timed, good portions). We drank some more and contemplated dessert (I really do promise it's unusual for me to have dessert!). Anyway, to my surprise, out came a little shot glass of a delicious little white frangelico thingy that wasn't a pannacotta and wasn't a mousse, but somewhere in between. THEN came our desserts.

Oh my lord, when they say soft-centred chocolate pudding, they really mean SOFT-CENTRED DEATH BY CHOCOLATE!

Anyway, putting my tongue back in my head for a minute, Restaurant 373 is very keen to provide a wonderful dining experience in the North Hobart strip. Picking up where Lickerish left off, they are having a damn good stab at it. It's early days, but all indicators are that they are on the right track.

Hurrah!