Courting Miss Jackson

Miss Jackson

2/19 Grey St

(enter from Jackson St)

St Kilda 3182

Telephone: 03 9534 8415

Opening Hours: Tue-Sun 7am-4pm

Miss Jackson is the kind of lady that will make all your troubles go away.

Not a difficult feat to begin with: the sand and sea are a block away and while she’s a shy beauty on the outside (finding the entrance took some hunting)…

…the interior gives off a unique combination of vibes: minimalistic with a hint of Mamma Mia! (the Meryl Streep version). Certainly, Miss Jackson has distinguished herself, having won the accolade of Best Food Café as per The Age Good Café Guide Awards 2011.

My sister is starving and orders the corn fritters with bacon, avocado and vine tomatoes — adding poached eggs as a ‘side’.

The corn fritters are crisp, sizeable, and embedded with juicy golden kernels, the avocado slices are fresh and fleshy, and the eggs are poached perfectly. Interestingly, the presentation of the dish appears to have evolved quite a bit since its inception.

I can never say no to eggs prepared with goat’s cheese and this omelette proved impressive — in taste and size.

It was massive! And more importantly: moist, thick, and generous with the cheese. There was a bountiful lot of bacon to match that was a little burnt around the edges but still very good. My only niggle was the bread. This might be a point of personal preference, especially given it didn’t look at all burnt, but it was so crisp and hard that it wouldn’t have been out of place spun across the room in an old Bruce Lee film. Perhaps if it had been sold to me as biscotti.

Unfortunately, the pan fried gnocchi with sausage didn’t fare as well. Which was disappointing, as it was aesthetically amazing.

The portion was pretty small (next to the omelette, minuscule) and the gnocchi itself a tad bland and mushy. Given the glowing reviews I’ve read elsewhere, I suspect this might just have been a kitchen miss on the day.

Too full from my enormous omelette, I opted to take away a brownie (a huge hunk), which was deceptively innocuous in appearance.

After an initial nibble in the car, I finished it before we’d even reached the city. It was exemplary: fudgy, nutty, and heaving with chocolate.

I’m not sure it’s got the best food in Melbourne but Miss Jackson’s certainly bringing all the boys to the beach, and they're like, it’s better than yours. Definitely worth a revisit as the days heat up!

What kind of food do you think goes best with a sea-nic day out?

Merchant (Revisited)

Merchant

Rialto 495 Collins St

Melbourne 3000

Telephone: 03 9614 7688

A great first date with a restaurant is a tricky beast to handle. Arrange a second and risk dissipating the heady magic of that maiden moment. Stoically preserve the past and always wonder if it might have been matched, if you’d only had the mojo.

Or, like me, wait until you’re sent an innocuous article referencing one damning detail of the affair (an enticing recipe for drunken pasta swimming with clams), and against your better judgment find yourself calling at nine in the morning on a Wednesday with all the breathless desire of a Mills & Boons heroine, wailing for vongole with breakfast.

The attraction appears less mutual. I’m told dispassionately to turn up at a more appropriate noontime hour and try for a walk-in table (in a compromise with current trends, half the restaurant cannot be reserved). Ever the willing wench, I concede, and a second date with the Merchant is made.

I rope in an accomplice to provide objectivity to my assessment. He orders the gnocchi and proves suitably less convinced.

Gnocchi, ragu’ de cinghiale ($20)

A real looker but the gnocchi is a mush-mash of textures, soft but not supple. More than a little disappointing, considering we’re at a Grossi. The accompanying spiced wild boar ragu is exceptional, however, as fulsomely rich and tempestuous as its name suggests.

Meanwhile, I'm finding it difficult to empathise; my cravings are being convincingly corrupted by a genuinely charming dish of spaghetti with clams.

Spaghetti ca le caparele ($23)

It’s as generous as I remember, the clams taste fresh and clean, and the lithe, light sauce of garlic and white wine sensuously clings to every strand. My only jibe was that it was slightly under-seasoned, but this was readily remedied by a sprinkling of salt from the table.

To prolong my Merchant encounter, the dessert menu is requested, but I pick a beguiling slice of chocolate tart from the display instead.

Chocolate tart ($8.50)

The tart is neither the sleek nor shiny production I’ve come to expect from Italian pastries: coarser in texture, laced with orange, and requires forking with pressure. I ask for some accompanying vanilla ice cream and a very intense version is brought to the table, which I irresponsibly finish with a hefty chunk of tart to spare. I'm addicted, and a second scoop is speedily decimated.

Later, I’m told I can write in for a list of the ice cream ingredients if I’d like to recreate my poison at home. I suppose it’s as close as I’ll get to a night in with Merchant!

First impressions are great, but Merchant and I are in it for the long haul. And I reckon that matters more.

Merchant

Merchant

Rialto 495 Collins St

Melbourne 3000

Telephone: 03 9614 7688

Opening Hours: Mon - Fri 7am - 11pm; Sat 12pm - 11pm

Frankly, Australia’s gone absolutely cook-y. I know it’s been an odd year when I’ve been grinned at by more cardboard cut-outs of chefs than wizards, vampires and bridesmaids put together.

The new celebrity

Forget Brangelina’s brood, office gossips are celebrating the arrival of James George Calombaris. Punters in restaurants everywhere are bellowing for sauce and calling it jus. Birthday cakes are passé, bring on the birthday croquembouche (or gingerbread house!). I had toast for lunch and found myself stacking the slices so they ‘plated up’ better. And in a case of life imitating art, I couldn’t even get the balance right.

So it stands to reason that food is now only one of various considerations that come to mind when you’re taking out-of-town guests to dinner.

To be able to fully tantalise their tastebuds your ability to tell tales of the restaurateur’s televised appearances is paramount. Product endorsements and supermarket representation are imperative. Having actually seen said restaurateur in person at the restaurant in question provides unmissable bragging rights. And while he isn’t one of the Gs on Channel Ten, Guy Grossi is definitely worth his salt on the name-dropping leaderboard.

Merchant is Grossi's most recent business endeavour, incorporating some very fashionable Melbourne value-adds:

The apparent exclusivity of a conveniently central yet slightly hidden location (the gondola is your first clue).

The emphasis on its not-just-Italian-but-Venetian-Italian heritage.

The brick, wood and cobblestone trademarks of old money Europe, with waitstaff uniforms that wouldn’t look astray on a Milanese runway.

A bilingual menu, with Italiano taking precedence.

For the dining cynic that is yours truly, it’s a lot I'd love to hate. So it’s a real shame they went and ruined it all by making the food fantastic.

Bigoli Mori, duck ragu ($20)

I’m told that a ragu by any other name (such as ‘bolognaise’) is a stinker. This was a real rose of a dish however; the sauce was generous, tomato-rich, and unapologetically meaty.

Spaghetti, clams ($23)

This was mine (all mine), and I wasn’t about to share. Seafood, white wine, and garlic is probably the most facepalm basic combination of pasta sauces, but man, when it works, it works. And this saucy little miss was chockfull of clams and gone too soon.

Risotto, porcini mushrooms ($18)

Donna Hay was probably right when she said brown is nothing much to look at. But what a Cinderella transformation in the mouth this was. I’m not a huge fan of risotto generally (being that it is texturally much like a halfway-house between rice and congee, the staples of my childhood), but this had supersized bags of intense, mushroom flavour – the kind that simultaneously inspires you to implore everyone at the table to try it yet also keep the whole plate to yourself, damnit. I find that really good mushrooms and truffles in particular often elicit this type of behaviour.

Today’s fish, char grilled ($34)

I believe this was a snapper on the day, and it had great char. Not much more can be improved (or explained) about a moist, tender fish with great char, and so I shan’t bother.

Chargrilled lamb cutlets ($29)

Is there no end to the loveliness of char? This was cooked pink, which is a delightful colour on most meats and little female children. If I could nitpick at one thing, and I suggest you brace yourself for the toothpick weight of this nitpick, it would honestly be the inconsistency of the menu having spelt ‘char grilled’ with a space between both words in reference to the fish, yet simply ‘chargrilled’ in reference to the meats. It’s a niggling thought worth mulling over as you (or I) chew on the last of your lamb bones.

Finally, some very comforting sweets.

Chocolate tart off the day's display ($14.50)

Apple, raisin, walnut strudel with cinnamon ice cream ($14.50)

Let’s put it this way. Any celebrity, chef or otherwise is a cleverly marketed product on which we greedily feast and fanatically gossip. Merchant is likewise an aptly-named business venture. There are no surprises here. It’s great food and great service with a great backer. And like the masses, we were easily char-med.

What's got you charmed lately?

Papa Goose: Move over, golden eggs.

Papa Goose
91-93 Flinders Lane
(between Russell and Exhibition)
Telephone: 03 9663 2800

Opening Hours:
Lunch: Tuesday - Friday from 12:00pm
Dinner: Monday - Saturday from 5:30pm
Loose Goose Bar: Tuesday - Saturday nights: from 5:00pm to late


Growing up, I like to think I was terribly generous. The 'candy' kid (sour tape, Apollos and Choki-Chokis - dentists and diabetes be damned), the 'chocolate chip' teenager (muffin tops galore in every sense of the word), and in my first year of college - the 'cookie' neighbour (one sleepless night, I made a thousand to glut and to give).

Needless to say, much of my clothing was also very 'generous'. I then became a food blogger, and my sharing of food now extends beyond the physical.


But everyone has selfish moments. Da Vinci wrote his inventions in mirror-image cursive, Magnolia Bakery's recipes never taste like the original, and Vanessa Paradis snared Johnny Depp.

Downstairs function room

So these are my selfish moments:

No 1. When I was twelve, my mother bought a giant bag of Hershey's Milk Chocolate Kisses with Almonds for my class party. I hid it in my closet, brought the tiniest packet of crisps in, and my entire school holidays that year was a blur of sweetly secret melted goodness.

No 2. For my fourteenth birthday, I received a carton of Haagen-Dazs Macadamia Nut (which remains my favourite flavour of ice cream to this day). To avoid having to share it with my grabby siblings (to say nothing of my dessert-a-holic mother), I wrapped it with newspaper and pushed it to the furthest end of my freezer (the corner with dubious and forgotten cuts of meat). The next two nights, my aunt was convinced we had rats; much furtive scrabbling was heard from the vicinity of the kitchen.

No 3. I really didn't want to write this post.


Because I loved Papa Goose. And love is such a dated, hackneyed word.

Also, (like many a romantic comedy heroine) I had absolutely no plans to fall so hard. Not because I am inherently critical (and not, of course, because Anton Ego is my favourite misunderstood non-villian villan ever), but because we were dining as guests of Papa Goose. And credibility, in my opinion, is better than anything you can get for free.

Two ducks (or geese perhaps) sitting in a window.
There's a joke in there somewhere.

As far as Internet geeks go, I'm as stalker-ish as they come. I'd done my research on Papa Goose; a 100% (revision: now 95%!) rating on Urbanspoon, with reviews so glowing they're as neon as China, Larissa Dubecki's blurb on its opening in July, and Chef Neale White's ridiculously impressive CV (buzzwords include Pure South, Gordon Ramsay, Marcus Wareing, Sydney, etc.).

Upstairs function room

And so - great expectations were in order.

I am a big fan of bread. This bread is a big friend of mine.

An intense seafood velouté with a lightly creamy base. A fabulous scull.

The first entrée, a confit Huon ocean trout, avocado, cucumber, watercress, horse radish, tomato vinaigrette.


This dish is the epitome of having your sashimi and cooking it too. Glazed in lemon oil, vacuum-packed and placed in a warm water bath for 20 minutes; it tasted fresh, but with a firmly-layered texture. And the lick of avocado and little pearls of apple? Genuinely exciting.

A tiny mound of margherita granita posing as a palate cleanser.

Little hint of salt at the precipice.

Second entrée, a twice cooked quail, puy lentils, radicchio, saffron quince, pomegranate reduction.


Finger bowls were provided so we could use our hands. I didn't need a second invitation.


This was a slightly sweet dish, very reminiscent of Chinese barbecued pork. I liked that the quail was still moist and tender; lean birds can be so mean and dry (oh the entendres) and the lentils were lovely and crisp.

If I had to pick just one, I'd go with the trout, as I prefer my appetizers delicate rather than robust.

Our main was a hybrid of two dishes currently on the menu; Char grilled Hopkins River beef and braised oxtail with silverbeet, root vegetables, chervil, and salsa verde.

That hunk melts hearts.

I'm a 'rare' kind of girl (impressively well-rested; not a drop bled onto my plate) and I could barely speak from carnivorous joy.


I'll also be terribly torn the next (ten) time(s) I come here, as the oxtail was meaty, unctuous and not at all chewy.

A swallow of sorbet.

And desserts to make Willy Wonka weep.

Eskimo’s pie, ‘hot chocolate’

This was mine. In fact, it still is - hands off! My greatest regret with fine dining is always the pretty but petite desserts; little goslings you should introduce to your parents and carry down the aisle. This is the carnal antithesis to holy matrimony: a voluptuous, curvaceous figure of pleasure dotted with hazelnuts and praline sporting a full head of curly caramel tuille. Hello dolly, goodbye sensibilities.

And the polar opposite; a steamed mandarin pudding, warm citrus salad, blood orange ice cream.


I avoid citrus puddings usually. Like bad speeches, they are often heavy, bitter and never seem to end. This was neither of the first two, and unfortunately, not the third either. It was feather-light, almost spongy, and very moist. Juicy segments of fruit means you can tell mummy about this one.

And a third dessert I didn't get the name of; it had pumpkin, rhubarb and...I was very sated

Would I return, for a fully-paid meal? Undoubtedly.
Should you? Only if you are not competing with me for a reservation (I'm being perfectly truthful - selfish moment No. 4).


When you do go, tell them I sent you. Thanks are owed to Alison Hulm, General Manager, for my invite; you will recognize her by her fantastic haircut and wit. And as for Chef Neale White; if you're lucky enough to run into him, buy him a drink, loosen his tongue, and let the good times (rock and) roll.

The Loose Goose Bar

Also in absolutely charming attendance:
The boys from The Black Pearl Bar, Fitzroy
Robert Erskine, CEO Rely Culinary Technology (their kitchen gadgets are manic!)
Chris Bolden, Coombe Farm Wines
James Young - Torbreck Vintners
Damien Hardiman - Huon Aquaculture
Adam North - Hopkins River Beef; and
Andrew Natoli, Sofitel Hotel


And I'm still a little tipsy, so here's a rhyme.

This Papa Goose is good and cooked,
I am clearly very hooked,
So go but if it's fully booked,
I'll hunt you down, and you'll be f...

Lastly - this is completely irrelevant to food or the post above - but if anyone has registered for the Melbourne Marathon's 5.7km run and would now like to pull out, please shoot me an e-mail ASAP as I'm keen on taking your place (and reimbursing you too)!