Gourmet Burger Bars.
Ah yes, they’re taking over the lions share of wherever ‘the burgers are better’ and where you’re ‘lovin it’.

For too long we have been subjected to mass produced, paltry, mechanised and formulaic meat between two buns. Now we’re spoilt for choice, we quibble over whether Jus is superior over Flipside,  and who has the best chippies.

Another bar-raisingly fine example can be found at 400 South Terrace Fremantle (corner of Harbour Road). This child-friendly, playful, never-never land of burgers and chips is one of Perth’s newer burger joints.

Missy Moos shares the (South Terrace) strip in Freo that is still in its cafe strip infancy, and bodes well for parking (conveniently at the rear of shop) as parking in Freo is always a hassle.

On the chalk board you’ll find nursery-rhyme character-named beef , chicken, and vege burgers. And what self respecting burger bar in Freo would be devoid of fish? Yep, it’s here too.

I opted for the “Humpty Dumpty” beef burger with pineapple, beetroot, free range egg, Margaret River tomato relish and baby spinach. The burger meat was very good quality and the chargrilled pineapple put an interesting spin on things. Using Jus as a reference point, it’s a clear tie for ingredients except the buns. It’s not that they were like those sugary Tip Top abominations that can be compressed to a small puck, but they just didn’t have the killer edge which Jus has. I like good buns — I’ll leave it at that. Speaking of killer edges, do all burger bars have a thing about impaling burgers?

The Perth gourmet burger standard is high, so really, what becomes the deciding factor?

Price, in my book.

In that regard, then it was good [value for money]. Not jaw-droppingly brilliant, not border-line OK, just good. The atmosphere is open and casual.

Missy Moos is working on a formula that is fail-safe, post-GFC and anti-global — local, fresh ingredients, local family, local customers. Wholesome food, family-first, casual dining.

Who would have ever thought?  The big boys must be squirming under their crowns and golden arches.

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

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.

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.

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

The thought of eating raw meat isn’t something that I would entertain on a regular basis.

However, the curious experience of sashimi is always going to be a reoccurring daydream.

It could be because it’s insanely expensive, microbially volatile and possibly contains parasites. It’s like a culinary Russian roulette.

But the subtle sweet–umami character, with the texture that is both slimy and firm, propels me with edgy urgency for more. It’s a dish that polarises a lot of people.

Kalis Bros in Leederville is one of those places where you can get it.

I know it’s well known, but Kalis Bros. is a no-brainer for a good piece of fish, no matter what time of day, day of week, week of year.

However, if you are intending to eat raw fish and keep out of the hospital emergency department, there are a few things to consider:

1) Only buy ‘Sashimi Grade’ – this denotes the fish was killed by the Ike jime method. After being hauled aboard on a single line, the fish is quickly spiked behind the brain then plunged in a briny ice slurry.

2) Scope out the packaging date — only buy on the date packed.

3) The fish should not smell strongly! If it’s strong in smell, it’s going off.

Sashimi as a purist would have it, wasabi, soy, ponzu and daikon would be the only accessories.

I hear that nematodes dislike mustard.

That’s why I bookended my pieces with it, and put my sinuses into damage control.

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It’s been a while since my last post, and I really should find another small bar to blog about (which will come in time), but at the moment it’s fun to knock around the kitchen.
In the foray into kitchendom we broke a few things including two reasonably priced bone china mugs and an unreasonably priced Luigi Bormioli Bordeaux glass.

Keeping inline with effing-up or breaking, I thought it would be a good time to showcase the coddled egg.

Cooked in it’s own little ramekin, you can add anything you like, plus egg, add cream (and spring onion) and coddle.

1) Put your desired ingredient/s in a buttered ramekin. (We used a cabbage-carrot-onion mixture festooned with garlic thanks to @misshandmaid)

2) Crack an egg over the mixture

3) Pour cream, top with spring onion

Now, most recipes that I read didn’t say to slightly lift up the mixture.  But if you use a blunt knife  to lift up the gooey mass, it would be beneficial for consistent cooking.

4) Use foil to TIGHTLY cover the lid. If you do not cover the lid, it will take the better part of half an hour. I recommend using egg coddlers (if you have them gathering dust somewhere) because foil doesn’t pressurise the vessel — hence reducing cooking time. Chris suggested to use an elastic band to fasten a more secure closure with foil. Point taken.

5) With a shallow pan/tray on the simmer, place the ramekins in water half way up the side. Don’t do what I did and misread the recipe in an act of gungho-kitchen-prowess and place in the oven. Keep the thing simmering on the stove. In hindsight, the oven may have been more effective . If that was the case, an alternative gungho Master Chef would have placed this an in oven at 180 C for 10 minutes.

6)Next,  watch as the cream is capillarised out of the ramekin via the foil lid and fill your saucepan with milky goodness. This should not happen but for some reason the chef’s ideal and fluid dynamics don’t always see eye-to-eye. Physics 1, Master Chef 0.

7) Pick and prod the egg every 5 minutes if you are impatient, and possibly burn yourself in the process. Check facebook while you’re waiting. Tweet your frustration.

8 ) Viola. In about 30 minutes, and after using a small LNG plant of gas, your coddled eggs are ready. Serve with Caraway sourdough rye that is almost burnt while you are facebooking.

Enjoy this little gem. It’s well worth the effort of scrubbing the burnt egg, and a saucepan full of creamy water.

No seriously. They are a pretty good sunday morning folly outside of Benedict.

Who would ever think that one of the most destructive introduced pests to Australia would fetch $21 per kilo at your butcher? Though I can say that these rabbits are farmed; they’re white (to be honest I prefer the wild rabbit) and pretty much taste like – you guessed it – chicken. And for a whole boned sectioned carcass, that’s about $24 a pop.

Leaner than beef, pork and chicken, rabbit meat is per meter squared, the most ecologically sustainable animal protein. They can be grown in hutches, mature quickly and, er, breed like rabbits. I don’t understand why rabbit meat isn’t:

1) cheaper

2) introduced widely among culinary menus (along with Kangaroo).

3) readily avilable available (thanks wonderfully accurate and anonymous literati for your contribution)

Our hopping friends are our only future if every one of the 6.6 billion hungry mouths are to get adequate protein and not reduce the earth to dust.

So we thought we would roast a rabbit (or two) and enjoy with some WA wine. I’ve kept wine it in the theme of the Rhône Valley. Shiraz (Syrah), Viognier, Marssane, and Roussane.

I could have been daring and picked a few bunnies off the road on the way to the butchers. But with the recent spell of Bikram weather, they’ed be close to jerky au jus than anything else.

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