Tannic Teeth

I admit I don’t usually dine out on Japanese anything past a quick sushi roll on the run.

It’s not that I find the cuisine any less intriguing than others of the Orient, it’s just in Perth a good Japanese restaurant is few and far between. With that said, it’s rarer still find an exceptional Japanese-Fusion restaurant. Perhaps until now.

When Melbourne food blogger Gilbert came to Perth on a recent vacation, we thought it would be a good time to check out this restaurant called ‘Bonsai’. I’d heard mummerings about it through two friends,  both who raved about the complexity and style of the food. So on a crisp Friday night, the three of us ventured.
Bonsai is half lofty half cosy establishment along Roe St in Northbridge. It is apparent from the interior design that the same creative hands also drew up Wolfe Lane. The polished-stainless-steel-meets-exposed-brick-work gives a feeling of rawness, which appears to be a common design trend. Dining in the restaurant section is a dimly lit and also cavernously airy affair. I don’t know whether it’s more romantic or spooky.

Sentiments aside, when it came to the food, it hit all the right pressure-points.

I hazard a guess the style of Bonsai is simialr to izakaya. The european parallel is mezze and tapas, and like many of those dishes, izakaya are designed to share.

Though I didn’t judiciously note the name of every dish, we had, among other things, seaweed salad, sashimi salmon on asparagus, agadashi eggplant and panfried mushrooms. The freshness of the ingredients was stunning; you can’t fake raw salmon and seaweed.

Bonsai had not one dish that fell below expectation in flavour or portion.

The complexity of flavours were in trinities and beyond.  That is, more than two complementary flavours or spices used. They were harmonious, balanced and expertly camouflaged. And from someone that likes to play the ‘guess-the-flavour-component,’ it was a joyfully vexing experience. It shows time and thought has gone through planning the dishes. Bonsai has approached the weaving of food with their brains.

There is a simple and honest wine list for the average punter, and a handful of interesting Sakes. If you’re not enamoured with the wine list, you can BYO for a very resonable price per head. We opted for genmaicha tea for its savoury complexity rather than turn friday-arvo-drinks into friday-night-drinks.

For those who have yet to try this place, it’s one I’d highly recommend.

Fusion is hard to do right — and for the price.

The Bonsai Restaurant and Cafe Lounge
30 Roe Street
Northbridge WA 6003
Perth, AUSTRALIA
+61 8 9227 5756

What do you do when you have an over-caffeinated Sunday afternoon with a new packet of flour, three eggs, a pinch of salt and mechanical contraption that looks like a mini ye-olde-clothes wringer?

It’s a romantic notion to do things the old fashioned way, and like baking, the crafting pasta from scratch is one of those primitive processes kitchens of the world have been doing since grain was ground. Only once you have toiled, with hours under kneaded dough, can you appreciate just how much work goes into transforming a few basic essentials into a pure staple.

We impetuously jumped into pasta all’uovo or egg pasta on a flour plumed sunday afternoon. Recipes are somewhat varied from source to source, but should a resulting dough be too firm–add water or too moist–add flour. It’s a basic rule for those at the beginning of our pasta making lives. Of course, that took us a while to figure out.

We started with 3 1/2 cups ‘00′ grade flour, 3 eggs and a pinch of salt. Blended in an industrial sized barrel (or just mixed it by hand like we should have). Kneaded in a usual fashion, and let it rest for 20min in a film of plastic.

Much to my surprise, the rolling of pasta is not just a matter of placing a lump on the top of the machine and cranking like a yachtsman.

No magical transformation will occur, and no glorious ribbons of golden delight will dangle out the bottom. Instructionless and proud, I asserted there was a mechanical fault with the pasta roller.

My partner was the one who — approaches all machines with an eye of caution — decided to read out the instructions.

Step 1. Roll pasta on number 1 setting. Repeat.
Step 2. Fold and roll on 2 setting. Repeat.
Step 3. Fold and roll on 3 setting. Repeat.
And so on and so forth, torturously until number 9 is reached, by which we’re looking at a membranously thin sheet of pasta.

It was then time to extract those long awaited golden ribbons. They writhed as we wrung them out — worms on a jarrah table. We hung them up to dry from the ceiling light from chopsticks like some bizarre food inspired chandelier.

Cooking fresh pasta is not long affair. My brother, following Stephanie Alexander to the tee, made an excellent Basil Pesto. It was a pity, but being so fresh, the flavour of the pine nuts, parmesan and basil had yet to fester in the bowl to full power. But cooked pasta waits for nobody, and in less than 3 minutes, it was drained and tossed with only (the pesto), cream, pepper and finished with EVOO.

As a first attempt I’d rate 5.5/10. Aside from the table-thumping cries of a hungry family, handmade pasta takes timely skill. It’s something to do like the coddled eggs, where you know you can get pretty close in half the time, but there ain’t no substitute for using the old noodle.

Restaurant Amusé is in possession of something rare.

If it isn’t the low-lit über-cool interior, or the ocularly observant staff, or the artistry of food and theatre of wine, then it’s a certain je ne sai quois which propels it into the league of top class restaurants — of just a hand-full the exist in Perth.

The fruition of a husband and wife team, Amusé offers dégustations at $120 per head. Wife Carolynne oversees the floor staff in definite direction and classy professionalism, while her knowledge of the food is second only to husband, Hadleigh, who spins the creative yarn from the kitchen. The duet are doing a fine job. Considering the culinary thrill of the eight courses, parting with $120 is worth it. It really establishes the bar for what-to-expect for spending $120 on a meal, let alone dégustation.

I’ve tried to suss out the flow of courses, and they appear to follow the meandering route below.

Snacks

Tea and toast course

Soup course

Crustacean course

Fish course

Game or fowl course

Red meat (or pork) course

Margarita

Dessert one course (fruit, vegetable inspired)

Dessert two course (chocolate inspired)

Petit four with tea and coffee

To labour every course with words of the colours and flavours, would dismally fall short the sheer pleasure it is to partake. Put simply, the food is sublime.

There is an option for matching wines to the seven courses, $60 will give you seven tasting pours. Freedom outside of the tasting pours, the carte des vins is as extensive as light though a glass prism. Exacting thought has gone into the creation of the list, which second year running has Gourmet Traveller Wine List of the Year ‘Three Glass Rating’. It matches the food with cerebral precision and rounds off perfectly an outwardly unassuming East Perth restaurant.

Amusé has advanced towards food (and wine) with the brains of an alchemist and heart of an artist. They’ve already notched themselves as a formidable dining alternative to the usual suspects of Perth. Indeed, we’re all (seriously) amused.

Restaurant Amusé
64 Bronte Street
East Perth WA 6004
(08) 9325 4900

There are few restaurants you can go to along the coast on a swelly Sunday morning in winter and get a decent fast-breaker.

The cafes and restaurants along West Coast Drive in the Northern Suburbs have priceless vistas that curve along the blue horizon.

It is often just the view as a lure, to enjoy a Sunday brunch, that most people frequent these establishments.
Usually the desultory staff (who would otherwise be off chasing a few sets in the surf) are there to greet you, take your order, and deliver your equally desultory food. They would then stare nonchalantly as you let them know your coffee was burnt, and the eggs were still runny. Sound familiar? Perhaps because you have not been to Voyage.

Voyage Kitchen and Delicatessen is one of the best places to eat along West Coast Drive.

It’s next to a conspicuous petrol station of the recently misadventured BP, and you have to look around the back parking lot for a vacancy on any given Sunday. It’s a place that I’ve driven past many times, not even considering to dine there.

The cafe is set into a building complex, so ample natural light can penetrate into the darker interior. There are many tables and chairs — a hotchpotch — long benches, large tables and smaller dining ensembles. The space appears concise and vibrant when it’s packed to the rafters. By all appearances, it’s the quintessential beach-side eatery. The thing that demarcates it from the rest of the dining wannabes  however, is the precision of how it’s managed. We arrived late on a Sunday morning (regretfully didn’t book), but we were promptly tended to, seated on a large share table (with the prospect of snapping up another table when it became free). The staff were bright and attentive, asking if everyone was ready to order, and suggested a coffee to start.

The rest of the scenario panned out like this:

1) we saw a table was free within 5 min of being seated anyway and asked our wait staff.
2) 5 min later we were seated at the said table (wiped), also with an ice bucket and champagne glasses we also had requested (for the Cava we brought), and the coffees delivered.
3) within a comfortable 10 min we had ordered our meals.

A hiccup of the morning, one of us ordered Eggs Benedict ‘well done’. They arrived runny. We sent it back with no fuss from the waiter, and new one arrived soon after.

All things considered, these guys were under the pump. They would have turned the tables over at least twice that busy sunday, so I suppose my point here is to show, a job well done.

I’m not going to write about the food (as a quick search on urbanspoon will confirm how good it is). Best casual brekky thus far. Quality ingredients go a long way.

The Cava also went down a treat, and topped off a boozy Sunday brunch.

Segura Viudas Reserva Heredad [Pedenès, Spain]

Light, floral, citrus with a fine chalk-like structure. Not overtly complex, but some lusciousness of autolysis character just popping though, more evident as the wine warmed up from 10c. The crunchy acidic core compliments most of what is going on over the nose, it’s a style of Cava made according to méthode champenoise, that is approachable from many angles — visually for starters.

Perhaps it’s remiss to mention it here, but the first thing I notice about Zekka — aside from the modern rusted laser-cut signage; aside from the hand-illustrated shop-long mural, and aside from the snazzy fashion on display — is a penisless cardboard mannequin 1.5 times the size of a normal humanoid.

He They It stands at the entrance, gawking out of the cafe to King St beyond.

Zekka is an edgy, fringe, avant-garde fashion outlet that houses some serious brands I’ve never even heard of.

I haven’t shopped there myself (perhaps sometime in the future), but I do come for the coffee.

The cafe occupies a similar space as the fashion outlet, however it is less edgy and more minimal and a helluva lot more functional.

Zekkacafe is found at the rear of the store which opens up high into the urban environment, the lighting is reflected by the buttresses of buildings. Its an airy column of brick and mortar– good for soaking up the thermal mass of summer, but more like a conduit for breeze in winter.

As you would expect, the cafe does all its own cakes and glass cabinet goodies, light lunches and the like — nothing too serious.

The (coffee) prices are what you would expect in Perth ($3–4), and the quality is worth going back for.

They use Crema (thanks everyone for letting me know!) and Avon Valley Milk.

This time of the year, because of the greener pastures, the milk is sweet.

Don’t believe me?

Order a milk-based coffee without sugar and you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

I’d recommend this place if you’re after a little get-away from burning up the CC on King St or having your office cubicle close further around you. Respite time? It’s perfect.

The space is quite unusual and the coffee is tops — a spirited rival to Tiger Tiger for the best cup in town.

My 2 cents? They don’t have a small bar license. Pity.

(08) 9481 1772
Perth City
74 King St
Perth, 6000

Highgate Northbridge may seem like one of the most unlikely places to house this charming deil-cum-cafe.

But away from the carnal desires of the erotic fun-houses and the neatly swept vomited sidewalks of inner Northbridge, there lay small and homely establishment serving an array of baked goods like the Candy Man in Willy Wonka.

The decor is an eclectic mix of all things old, beautiful and ridiculously discarded. Cakes of every wicked manifestation are displayed like a banquet before the Sun King and you the patron sit within arms reach of them.

Lincolns, aptly named, situated on the corner of Lincoln and Stirling Streets in outer Northbridge Highgate was once a quaint corner store. Still holding on to the quaintness, it’s now a three year old cafe that churns out coffee, cakes, breakfasts and lunches. It’s a small neat shop with more character the modern cafes strive to achieve. In some regards it is a modern cafe, but the balance of nostalgia and charm are done just right.

We had breakfast late one Sunday morning. The rosti, bacon, poached eggs and spinach were superb if a bit on the small size for the price. (In lieu of a side for breakky — opt for a piece of cake). So hungry we were, and perhaps tempted by the gingerbread cake winking at us from the counter, we shared a piece.

Of all the things that day, it was the cake which had no parallel. Moist, fluffy and in perfect poise of piquant ginger with the molasses base. Served slightly warmed with an ear of double cream it took the er, cake, for the value-for-money that day.

Lincolns 102

Mon–Sat

7:30–4pm

Sun

8:30–4pm

Imagine having the power to sniff out lumps of fungus underground that smell freakishly similar to a sow on heat. To be possessed with that super power you could ravage through the forests of Europe, digging up Black Truffle or Périgord Truffle, then selling it on the [black] market for thousands of dollars per kilo. Alas, only pigs and dogs have the sensory acuity to triangulate these wondrous subterranean growths. And it’s the more reliable–less greedy version of the two, the canine, which is used in Manjimup.

Homesick for the annual truffle festival in France, Alain Fabregues set out to recreate something of the memory of his small town; the merrymaking of food, wine and truffle when the season started.

Sculpture Park — Mundaring is where this franco-joviality has been happening for the past few years.

$10 Entry will get you in among the stalls of providers with a consistent timetable of events throughout the day. Most of the events are free, bar the entry into the Perth Hills Wine Show (2009 link) and the sit-down lunches and dinners.

Mundaring Truffle Festival 2010

Weekend Saturday 31st July & 1st August.

Fluffy was its name,

And when the hungry journos called,

Fluffy met the flame.

Well something like that anyways.

It was at the West Australian that Fluffy was interred, if it could be said, in the bellies of journalists and writers.

Courtesy of food critic and columnist Rob Broadfield, Fluffy was indeed fleecy nubile from York — fed fat on mother’s milk — and slaughtered perhaps facing east.

A message was tweeted out. A call for four individuals to join the editorial team for a quick luncheon, made by the man that makes most restaurants quiver like noodle box of shredded nerves.

Rachel Breidahl, Jason Jordan and I got dibs in first to sink our canines into Fluffy, then Michael Collins came running after a cool call-out for a fourth guest. It was in the lunch-room of the West’s offices, that became the final curtain-call for Fluffy who was now reduced to a stainless steel bain-marie  tin half its former size. There is much to say about the sense of peculiar gratification when a mob of hungry humans descend on the roasted carcass of an animal. Fluffy did not last long.

Rob said the sectioned lamb was slow roasted at 140 degrees Celsius for four hours. Lemons, garlic and rosemary spun the backdrop of a baste slash marinade.

I heard from Rob this breed of sheep is not your humdrum Merino, but rather a Dorper hybrid. Also the fact that its milk-reared from Momma makes for tastier fat.

This is true.

On first impression this lamb appeared subtle when compared to the archetypal piquant lamb character we’re all used to.

However there is a tender balance at play here. I would hazard a descriptor to say the meat appeared brighter, cleaner and more pronounced. Not of the lanolin spectrum. But clean. It carried the flavour the marinade well.

Served on 7 grain bread, it was simple but precise in its execution of flavour.

Thumbs up Rob, Fluffy was well appreciated.

For returning readers, you may well be aware the post regarding certain turkish sweet-maker man who has a store inside a Farmer Jacks.

This post is about that said Farmer Jacks.

Its actual name, Farmer Jacks Nguyen Phat, may very well be a giggle-worthy name but in all seriousness this place is a verdant pasture for Sinophiles and Asians like.

You can pick up very cheap fruit and veggies here. A good yard-stick to measure is bean-sprout freshness. If they’re firm, creamy-white with bright yellow growths — they’re no fresher from the womb of the earth.

Bok Choi, Gai Lan, Lotus Root. All there.

Funnily enough some other foods are hit-and-miss. Some apples look worse for wear and the turnips are a bit tired.

Asian–Ding! European–Babow.

The weird and magnificently grotesque carnival of pickled and packed asian foods are to be found during a blitz though the aisles. Preserved mudfish? Squid jerky?  Vacuum sealed bamboo shoots? The fresh meat section is just as astonishing. Never have I seen meat trimmed so fine of its fat, it’s like a Parisian catwalk for topside. And for ten bucks a kilo, cheap meat is far from a murderous exertion.

I’ve been coming to this place for years and have seen the turkish man grow his shop and watched the little old asian ladies battle it out over the last of the mushrooms. The whole place will smell-infuse your shirt, jeans and hair, and all the shopping trolleys have wonky wheels. The car park is potholed like a munitions had gone off undetected.

But if you’re a sucker of cheap-cheap or the asian-hard-to-find try this place out. It’s same same but different. Well not MUCH different, but a whole lot cheaper.

(I was there Wednesday 21st July and I saw another gaspingly cheap asian fresh providore. A posting for another time though)

Now I’m not a fan of commercial TV.

Adverts on the box always treat you like you’re some cash-fisted supreme moron.
In fact we don’t even have a TV. Not that we’re book-loving, net-surfing troglodytes anymore than we are sun-loving, real surfing,  socialites.

Like promise of dusting the bike off and riding a lung-bursting 100km, or getting oil paint so forced into your dermal layers you may as well be embalmed for the afterlife, life is an amazing place — to explore. With all that said, I have a confession to make.

I am a Master Chef fetishist.

No, not in that way.

I don’t ogle at the contestants nor any of the judges. Believe me, the sight of an overweight cravat-strangled crusty englishman, expressive as an anaesthetised bloodhound, is not my idea of romantic delirium. However, the dishes are.

I blame it on dinner at my old folks. They have the telly on Sunday night, eating dinner that was inspired from the week before. We’re there and we tune in. Food is central to any family. To see my mother’s cooking style change over time to something that is more experimental and edgy, is humbling. Every kitchen utensil has been replaced with tender detail to the functional and effective. The influence of good food has penetrated thanks to MasterChef.

Along with MasterChef comes events that expose people to good food. For a while now the Good Food and Wine Show have been running annual show-stage for everyone in the state.

So it’s no surprise this event will bring together en masse . The Good Food and Wine Show at Perth Convention Exhibition Centre will showcase gourmet creations like a shiny cabinet of curiosities.

From 2nd–4th July 2010 show up to wallow your way though the flavours of your dreams. And you won’t need to skip the adds.

Prices

Adults $30

Child (6-16) $22

Concession/Groups (10+) $24

Wine Lovers Ticket $75