Jousting with Jacques Reymond

Jacques Reymond
78 Williams Rd
Prahran VIC 3181
Telephone: 03 9525 2178

Opening Hours:
Lunch Thur-Fri: 12:00pm-1.30pm
Dinner Tues-Sat: 6:30pm-9:30pm

Clearly, apologies are in order. Yet with all the audacity and heedlessness of a negligent mother, I beg that you disregard my inability to nurture a healthy, breathing child and instead celebrate my attempts to resuscitate it.


And celebrations were indeed the order of the night, with my coy companion at its crux; and surely, surely there is no better place to bring out the balloons than at Victoria's 'Best Fine Dining Restaurant'?


No, I didn't think so either. And indeed the night began exceedingly pleasantly with some puffs.

Gougères!

Or cheese puffs, for the uninitiated. And excited I was, having first admired them in here.


As I made a point of boasting to the waiter (yes I am that sort of customer), I also remembered that they'd been described as an 'appetiser served for 27 years'. For such old ladies, they were very light and sprightly!


Happily, the bread also arrived warm. I put great store by great bread, and these were lovely.


Sadly, they would be only the specimens that we would receive over a dinner spanning almost four hours. But more on that later.


And oh, it was such a good dinner. We opted for a three course from the 'Carte' menu ($98), and one Degustation ($170).

The Ocean - flounder and oysters, fresh wasabi.
warm flounder ‘sashimi’ with fresh grated horseradish and togarashi, a natural oyster and sea water, a warm oyster with wasabi dressing, crispy tempura of white anchovy

Interestingly, I believe the 'sea water' in question was not simply sea water but a refreshing sorbet (that green there, look!). Do not, in your excitement, attempt to salvage any that drips over the oyster's shell into its bed of salt. A spoonful of salt, sadly, does not help anything go down. Personal stupidity aside, I enjoyed the warm oyster better (steamed I was told it was). The flounder was delectable (the celebrated one said it had pop!) but the anchovy crisp, unfortunately, was just that - a crisp. Had I not known it contained anchovy, I would never have guessed. If you do not care for anchovy, this is probably a good thing as it was texturally perfect!

From the degustation:

Lemongrass, spinach and rock lobster soup, fragrant Tiger prawn, sweet potato and turmeric ice cream

Like a good book, you are advised to dig in from left to right. The soup was an excellent example of a laksa, but quickly forgotten, as the prawn was fabulously fresh with a juicy, yielding bite. The ice cream was very mild despite its intimidating ingredients. For this, I was actually quite thankful, having once sampled a very unsuccessful curry ice cream at Sofitel's No 35. Let's just say, Maggi would have been proud.

Making a reference to paella

black rice unctuous, parmesan snow egg, wok of squid, crustaceans, chicken brisket and giblet, broken juices and saffron oil, smoked peppers

I liked this, but I would not have described this dish as making any reference to paella beyond "This is clearly nothing like a paella."


The black rice was a good savoury throwback to 'pulut hitam' if you've ever had it. I think the words 'snow egg' gets everyone's blood pumping post-Masterchef; in this event, it was nothing more (or less!) than a light meringue. The medley of seafood and chicken was the superstar of this dish, and tasted much like an extended explosion of the previous prawn. I am not ashamed to say I wiped my finger on the plate and licked it. I am probably a little ashamed I used more than one.

Second course of the degustation:

Sandwich of spanner crab, mirin and fresh wasabi jelly, lacquered Petuna ocean trout, black bean and sweetcorn dressing

I always like crab when it's been shelled for me! I think this dish worked well because of its amalgamation of textures. The crab was smooth on the lips, the lacqured trout was as crisp as suckling pig skin (indeed, that is what I thought it was at the time), the bee-ish beans were cooked well and the wasabi jelly was much less confronting than expected.

Third course of the degustation:

Wild barramundi, almond and bush mountain pepper caramel, yoghurt and black garlic, kaffir lime and lemongrass espuma

I am always deeply suspicious of anything that arrives with foam. It stems from the disbelief that my 'food' is literally disappearing before my eyes, which is always a problem when your photography skills are less than expeditous. However I won't begrudge the fact that it did impart the subtlest of flavours to the fish. Also, I shouldn't talk, really, having declared pompusly that '[t]he sauce has so much butter!" only to be informed by my long-suffering companion that it was in fact, yoghurt.

Sweet and sour pekin duck like tucupi

a spiced nougatine of flaked salt and ginger, a lemon sauce, sourness of wilted sorrel and crispy duck skin salad, four pepper squid and yoghurt

This was the last of the three 'Carte' dishes. There's nothing in here I didn't like, although I did find it slightly pretentious that the batter for the pepper squid was rolled inside the squid, as you can see here.


But the duck was very tender, and the redness in the picture is quite misleading; I might actually have preferred it a little less cooked!

The remaining dishes are from the degustation.

Pekin duck and Hervey bay scallops, peking juices, spiced marshmallow like a crêpe, ginger sesame and pandan oil

The duck was very similar to the one on the 'Carte' menu (I might even go as far to say that it was identical), and the scallops were adorably chubby. The most intriguing item on this dish for me was the marshmallow, which I did not realize one could manufacture outside a factory, let alone in a kitchen. I have since been enlightened by my knowledgeable friends Google and Taste.com.au.

Highland venison like a warm carpaccio, horseradish mustard dressing, butternut pumpkin with honey and bitter chocolate beignet

My absolute favourite dish of the night as I am a carnally craving carnivore and chocoholic. And if you thought you spied something with your little eye, you're right.


Truffle. Two grams for twenty-five. Terrific. Tantalizing. Tumultous. Pardon my thrilled tittering. It was very, very good. I might even say, very very wicked. Also, this was my first foray into venison. I don't know why I always thought it would be tough on the teeth. It turned out terribly tender. And yes, I'll stop now.

Western plains suckling pig and tamarind, celeriac and bitter almond,
dashi apple veil, dancing bonito flakes and rosella chutney salad, cavalo nero

Sadly overshadowed by the preceding dish, I still really liked the pork, though I was disappointed by the absence of crackling. The bonito flakes were an interesting addition, as I've never had it paired with pig. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure it added much in the area of flavour, but it was certainly very pretty!


I also liked the accompaniments; they were very reminiscent of the dependable piggy sides of apple and cabbage.

And finally, desserts!

Pacific Rim martini of pineapple, passionfruit and banana, liquorice ice cream and honeycomb

Millefeuilles of chocolate: white chocolate mousse, pure Caribbean chilli ice cream, dark chocolate mousse and praline ice cream

And petit fours, of course:


Now for the disclaimers. I loved the food, it was faultless. And I am such a groupie foodie that I almost swooned when Jacques Reymond himself stopped by to say hello. I might even have asked for a photograph had it not been for the strange events that punctuated our dinner. And I will list these from the nagging niggling to simply startling:

1. As I said previously, we were never offered more bread, even when we were clearly picking at the crumbs.

2. There was an actual need to pick at crumbs. Our first few courses took absolute ages to arrive; I would estimate a good 30-40 minutes or more between the first three, and it was already 10pm (we arrived about 7.40) by the time we received the third appetizer. No explanation or apology was received, but I am quite certain that this was because of a function that was taking place upstairs.


3. It was very loud. Not because of the other patrons, nor the function, but because the kitchen door was left open, and there was a great amount of shouting going on throughout the night.

4. The shouting was not of the typical kitchen type (or perhaps it is, and I am simply oblivious to the foibles of the business). At several times, it was of the aggressive and dare I say abusive variety, e.g. "IT'S BEEN HALF AN HOUR M------, THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" and "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Very Gordon Ramsay-eque, but less entertaining off the screen. Interestingly, the wait staff did not bat an eye.


So I'm torn. Definitely not the best of fine dining experiences, Victoria Awards notwithstanding. But it was clearly a very unusual experience and I suspect the kitchen was having a really bad night. And the food was outstanding even so.


As far as revisiting goes however, I'm not sure I'd risk it. Like the unfortunate M, it just wasn't good enough.

Uta Sushi Bar

Uta Sushi Bar

Shop 16/210 Toorak Road
(31 Chambers St)
South Yarra VIC 3141
Telephone: 03 9804 7396

Opening Hours: Tue-Thu 10am-5pm; Fri-Sat 10am-7pm; Sun-Mon Closed

'To cook like a Masterchef cooks, shop where a Masterchef shops!'


Unfortunately for Curtis, this hardly means Coles to me - especially after this debacle - but it's obvious others don't agree. Personally, I prefer lovely little groceries manned by lovely owners (with love, of course!); preferably as nondescript as possible, would fit right in wherever they're from, and hidden down lonely lanes to add to the mystique.

Enter this street.

Clearly, I'm very socialised by the Melbourne doctrine that a place must be hidden to qualify a visit. And in my discoveries I've discovered that I'm usually the last to 'discover' anywhere. Such was the case with Suzuran, which on all accounts was a fantastic Japanese grocery with a thriving sushi/sashimi business on the side.

Walk down here.

Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at Suzuran I was a month too late. Website notwithstanding, Suzuran has left South Yarra and Uta Sushi Bar now stands in its place.


Fortunately, it appears the proprietors are doing their valiant best to fill the shoes they've been handed down. Japanese groceries remain, though the selection is not extensive, and the sushi and sashimi menu is exactly the same. It'd be churlish not to partake of both!

So this is what was browsed:

Saucy.

Snacky.

This is what was consumed:

23. Sushi and Sashimi ($17.50)

3. Nigiri Deluxe ($16.50)

And this is what was bought:

Yakisoba and Mirin

How do I know this grocery would 'fit right in where it came from'? Every label on every item is almost exclusively in Japanese.


Definitely not your ordinary take-away sushi place, the produce (you know you're addicted to Masterchef when you start referring to everything edible as produce) was of fantastic quality. Fresh and delicate slices of sashimi, sushi laced with authentic mayonnaise right off the shelves (sold in packs of 1kg each!) and placement (and service) so charming and cheerful you're apt to forget that you're one of about five dinky little tables (only two of which were occupied).


And once again, I have my doubts as to whether I've really 'discovered' anything; the doors are a revolving whirl of shoppers and office workers in the know grabbing boxes to take away.


What I am sure of however, is that Suzuran it may no longer be, but Uta is doing just fine for themselves. And more importantly - there's a lot of love in the room!

Apologies for the long breaks between posts as I've been enduring examinations and tailoring a twenty-first. But that's a story for another (very soon) day!

Espousing Esposito

Esposito
162 Elgin St
(Corner of Elgin St and Drummond St)
Carlton VIC 3053
Telephone: 03 9347 9838

Opening Hours: Mon-Fri lunch from 12pm; Mon-Sat dinner from 6pm

Here is the deal with family.


The laws of biology, proximity and moral turpitude decree that you must love your family - and I do. The same laws, however, make it impossible to like your family all the time - and I don't. The 'quarrels' are typically inconsquential: silly squabbles over bathroom business, restless relatives and finicky foodies come to mind. The 'consequences' are similarly insignificant: you wait your turn, you go for a walk, you eat what's on the table and you'll like it. At the end of the day, you love them where it counts.


My mother likes to say, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all." Frankly, I doubt if there is a soul on earth who puts this into practice (except, obviously, and admittedly insensitively, those who literally can't say anything at all. I apologise).

Because it's necessary. Some things must be said. Some things should not be left to fester. Some things (most things) are better off fixed.

Menu for your perusal - the one on the website is slightly outdated.

So here is the deal with Esposito. There are indeed many 'nice things' to be said.

1. Like family, it's in close proximity, so much so that in the last month alone, I've visited twice with my family - BFF YS, and my mother and siblings.


2. No beachside views (the Holy Grail of seafood dining and real estate generally), but it's pretty. And comfy! Plenty of (classy) couch seating - the kind you call shotgun for as children (age of adolescence for most, 21 for my lovely friend YS).


3. The food is fantastic. And just as fantastic - it's consistent.

A complimentary amuse-bouche of seaweed.

Very light and refreshing - I've never been so pleased to have a lump of green, gangly strands on my plate.

Our first appetizer:

Seared Sashimi Tuna with a salad of smoked tomato, fennel and black olive mayonnaise ($21) [Half-portion]

I could have licked the plate clean. I didn't - and I'll get to this later (basic dining etiquette was not the reason), but this is a dish that is everything it should be. Not groundbreaking in concept, but the tuna was seared enough that the textural contrast of the cooked flesh to the fresh was easily and happily discernible, the smoked tomato was warm and very moreish, and the fennel and mayonnaise subtly enhanced them both.

Our second appetizer:

Seared wild Canadian scallops with caramelised onion tortellone, celeriac puree and black truffle vinegarette ($21) [Half-portion]

It was beautiful, really. As is obvious from the photograph, the scallops were burnished perfectly, teasingly resistant within, and although I always think tortellone is too thick and clumsy (having grown up on womanly won tons), the filling was lovely with no overpowering onion overtones.

Our main:

John Dory Fillets with calamari ragout with artichokes, watercress and lemon ($39) [Half-portion]

That I can't seem to stay away from ordering this should speak for itself. The John Dory, on its own, is cooked just right. But the star(fish) for me is that calamari ragout; the calamari is chopped so finely you don't expect to taste it at all, but every (tiny) spoonful is a burst of squidgy squidiness. I've never had anything quite like it. I restrained myself from licking the plate directly, but couldn't help sliding my finger across and well, you know the rest.

Not photographed unfortunately, but also sampled - the Black Angus Fillet Steak (requested rare, and medium rare by my brother and mother respectively on the same visit - both were impressively executed), and a gorgeously generous Spaghettini Marinara, which took three people to polish off (two of us had our own mains).

Our desserts:

Hot Date Tart with spiced frangipane and vanilla bean ice cream ($18)

YS insisted on ordering this; personally, I detest sticky date pudding. Let me just say - this is nothing like sticky date pudding. Not even the filling of the tart is reminiscent of sticky date. It's soft, slightly cake-y, and the witty 'hot date' is smooth without the cloying sweetness that I associate with fruit pies generally. I liked it so much that YS let me finish it. Best friend ever.


And here is where my failure as a foodie becomes apparent - without a picture of the dessert menu, I can't tell you what this is at all, except that it was a much better version of the chocolate sandwich I had at Cutler & Co, and luxuriantly decadent. That little lump, to my disappointment, was not ice cream, though not unpleasant.

Now here are the things that some (my mother perhaps) would prefer I not say.

1. Time, oh time. This is a place to linger indeed. Menus were slow to arrive, as was the waitress who took our order. And while water is topped up frequently, it's because you'll need it. The food takes a long, lo-o-ng time to arrive.


2. The waitresses are always lovely, but service can be scatty. On our first visit, YS and I shared everything and they generously offered to split our dishes, hence the petite portions in the photographs above. On a subsequent visit with my sister, this service was neither proffered nor executed - easily forgivable however, as they were acknowledgedly busier the second time around.


2. The distinction of lovely 'waitresses' above was no accident. Much like a very specifically annoying trait in a family member, a substantial portion of my vexations with Esposito have stemmed from one particular individual.


When a customer encounters cling wrap in her seared tuna - which she inadvertently chews and nearly swallows, the expected response is an apology. What is not expected:

Absence of apology aside -
"But you almost ate it clean!"
"What would you like me to do about it?"
"Are you saying you want me to take it off the bill?"

My response? A very measured "I'd like you to do what you'd like to do." The item was taken off the bill. But we really didn't need the 'tude. Which, unfortunately, was apparent again on a subsequent visit with my mother.

"What drinks are we having tonight?" "None thanks, we're driving."
"Are you sure? Nothing to drink at all?"
And though we were sure, "Here is the drinks list! What would you like?"
Finally - an incredulous (and unnecessarily loud) "Really! No drinks at all!"
Glasses were cleared with evident sulkiness.

So yes, I like Esposito - where it counts. I'm sure. Really.


But as yet, it's not quite family.

May Baby, Maybe maze

maze Melbourne
Level 1, Crown Metropol
Corner of Whiteman and Clarendon Streets,
Southbank, Victoria 3006
Telephone: 03 9292 8300

Opening Hours: Mon-Sun 6:30am-10:30am; 12pm-2:30pm; 6pm-11pm

It’s finally my birthday (feels like I’ve been waiting a year), and finally, finally time for me to visit maze. And that it’s Gordon Ramsay’s clearly has nothing to do with my delight.


As a child, one of the most memorable birthday gifts I ever received was a Choose-Your-Own-Ending book. You know the type – read a page, reach the bottom, pick a path. Your choice leads on to more choices, then ever more until you reach an ‘ending’. In a powerful perversion of reality, you can then return to your original decision, take the alternate route and so on until you have exhausted all possible endings, and all possible pages.


How I hated that book. I like my stories wrapped up in a bow; straight and narrow, planned and pretty. Any twists are the author’s; I’m a voracious voyeur.

Until now.


Maybe I’m a-maze-d (yes I said it). But don’t let the menu fool you, nor it's apparently low prices. Starters, mains; po-tay-to, po-tah-to - all the dishes are tiny. It’s Design-Your-Own-Degustation, and you’re in the driver’s seat.

Eat the bread. Slather it with the seaweed butter. Repeat. This is not optional.

Between the two of us, we ordered three starters, three mains, and a dessert. Clearly, I'm a growing child. And while I’d never say size doesn’t matter, this is definitely a case of good things in small packages.

Seared yellow fin tuna, white radish, yuzu, enoki mushrooms, black garlic ($16)

Stereotypically, my first and favourite love of the night. Combination of the sides was somehow reminiscent of mooncake (not unpleasantly so) and the tuna was fresh and lusciously fatty.

Pan seared scallops, caramelised kelp, samphire, mussels, Champagne ($18)

It's impossible to watch a Gordon Ramsay show and not wonder about his scallops. To say the man has an aggressive fixation with them is an understatement. Happily, he's right on the money. And the kelp is as refreshing an idea as it is in taste.

Applewood smoked kingfish, fennel purée, pickled celery, globe artichoke, finger limes ($17)

Generally, smoking doesn't excite me. Obviously, I haven't been hooked on the right stuff - it's difficult to be the final starter but this one bravely held its own. Very distinctive, almost meat-like texture. Everyone knows seafood and citrus marry well but this union was finger-licking sexy.

I thought our first 'main' was very pretty. As a heroine, she was unfortunately a bit of a ditz.

Coral trout, chicken skin, trompette royal, fennel, lemon thyme consommé ($23)

This is a dish I think even I could recreate, in its basic elements. The coral trout was poached perfectly, wore a coat of crisp chicken skin and luxuriated in a bath of broth. Well-executed, but perhaps not very exciting.

Our second main - apologies for the bad photograph:

Ox “tongue and cheek”, caper and raisin, carrots, horseradish pomme purée ($23)

Unctuous, gelatinous and quite fabulous. Like a stew or braise in a mouthful, and absolutely the Aragorn of our plot; dirty-looking, but a hero with a heart. The cheek falls apart as you caress it with your fork, and the grilled tongue below provides an excellent textural distraction; it's crumbly, crispy, and works much like a little round of pastry. Yet it's tongue. Awesome.

And once I'd had a sampler of meat, I couldn't stay away from this particular pick:

Lamb cannon and shoulder, cauliflower purée, anchovy, stinging nettles ($24)

The lamb shoulder was divine, but the cannon quite sinfully fatty. I love lamb, I won't lie, and pulled out the birthday card to appropriate the shoulder in its entirety. Table manners be damned, it was mighty fine. And on a different day, or perhaps when I'm not quite as sated, I wouldn't mind the cannon to curl up to either, corpulent as she is.

And no dinner yarn is complete, of course, until tied off with a dessert.

Hot chocolate and violet fondant, salted almond ice cream ($16)

While I pride myself on being an adventurer in all things savoury, I'm a predictable old lady with my desserts. I make my fondants to Gordon Ramsay's recipe, so this was a perfect specimen. In all honesty though, I felt the violet added 'something' only to the extent that one can now say "I've had violet. Have you?". Also, salted ice cream is a very acquired taste. Salty, so salty. And sadly, I never did get the hang of it.

Complimentary tidbits:

Tiny little takeaway bag presumably for the kiddies at home. My inner child goes everywhere with me, and she immediately devoured the pineapple jellies, chocolate with candy sprinkles and coconut marshmallows. I would've stopped her, but it was her birthday too.

Tiny spheres of strawberry ice cream in a crisp white chocolate coating.
Beautiful outside, more so in my inside.

And as with the most epic of tales, there's a tiny epilogue to this one. Not quite ready to call it a night, we retired to the lounge.


With a second dessert off the maze Grill menu. Yes. This feels right.

Chocolate and pecan brownie, salted caramel ice cream ($12)

This is the pudgy younger sibling to our elegant first dessert. The brownie was fantastically fudgy, and I quite liked the salted caramel ice cream; it was much less salty than the salted almond, and by this time I'd become more accustomed to the onslaught of sodium.


Perfect ending? Storybook. But the best part is: I can flip the pages, go back to the beginning and go another way. Same book; brand new adventure. I’m in love.