It all depends on the location, accessibility, and how much the operators are willing to risk attracting the average passer-by verses a word-of-mouth allure. Helvetica is a reclusive example of a you-must-know-where-you’re-going-to-find-us formula. Five Bar was never in my radar of jealous proprietary—I had discovered it far too late.

Five bar has the unapologetic location of Beautfort St, Mt Lawley. Two doors down from Clarances—judging by the Saturday night queue to get in—they’re the new kids on the block.

From first glance it is a roomy dimly lit space. There appears to be the contemporary design standard of exposed industrial meets muted Rococo couches. Animal hides and black and white photography make it an interesting zone. The abundance of hard surfaces in Five make it a cacophonous chamber when patrons limber in alcoholic excitement. You have to scream. (Though I’m sure the acoustics are different mid week when it’s not brimming with people.)

Upon entering the staff greeted and gave us the run down. We were one of the hopefuls that snagged a corner couch and the wait staff serviced us there. This service experience was intuitively effective. No vying for bartender attention—couch service is where it’s at.

We opted for the three cheese platter which was reasonable in size and quality. While no cheese expert, the sharp cheddar was a stand out followed by the blue and then the soft rind Camembert. Not sure what the intention was with providing three napkins and knives when four people were dining, but it made it slightly awkward. The bread provided with the platter was curious in that it crumbed like a commercial tip-top loaf  (a light and almost rice-bready texture). I’m not saying it was that, but yeah, it was an easy and perilously close observation. Less curious was the Pedro Ximinez I paired with the cheese—linear and ir-rancio. I suppose knowing the two local acts Talijancich or Kosovich—both deft in Swan Valley fortifieds—I’d be temped to represent WA.

Five Bar has a definite focus of beers and ciders and there is a overall message to the patrons to “try me” of different beers. It feels like a clean-cut grown-up version of a beer/cider drinkers pub.

It’s worth trying if you’re partial to couch service and boutique beers.

If Chairman Mao were alive he’d like Kitsch Bar.

It might have been for the oriental beauties stoically smiling in the tawdry beer adds that canvas the walls. Or the palm-sugar-and-fish-sauce wafts emanating from the kitchen. One thing I’m sure, he would have agreed on though:

Kitsch can do good noodles. With somewhat Asian frugality.

My antennae for a meal was prompted by a friend who suggested to try the “pad thai and chang” night on a Tuesday.

Sure, $19.20 was a reasonable price to pay considering the location, besides, not having to find your way through an Asian enclave forfeits price for convenience.

For a Tuesday night, perhaps under the allure of the “pad thai and chang”, Kitsch was bopping along. A personable waitstaff greeted, spieled and serviced us with a less austere nature than most traditionally run Asian eateries. That I suppose is a bonus.

How was the Chang and the dimpled beer glass? Solidly good.

How was the pad thai? Damn good.

The complexity of flavour was like the yin and the yang. Spot on. Peanuts, beansprout, shrimp, fish sauce and lime juice all in direct quantities. The serving bowl is as authentic as the rickety wooden chair we sat on.

Though the noodles were gluggy in consistency, unlacing them with a fork was a feeble business—chopsticks would have been the perfect dining implement. I was actually surprised they didn’t have any upon request.

Strange huh?

Kitsch Bar has an Asian resort meets shabby chic meets post WWII prosperity feel to it.

The menu is neat and well thought through with the pad thai being as real-deal without the need to buy an air ticket. South East Asia is the Kitsch’s focus and street food what they wish to evoke.

Now if only they were at street food prices.

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.

Naming a restaurant is tantamount to naming your first born.

Pink Zulu then is atypical, slightly jarring and borderline irreverent. Pink could be interpreted as of leftist ideals, youthful or rainbow-flag waving homosexuals. Zulu on the other-hand, are more-than-able bodied African warrior soldiers.

I’m not quite sure as to the implication for the name Pink Zulu, and I’m sure it’s something to do with the fetish of all things pink and African.

You will find this restaurant slash cocktail bar along Napoleon St in Cottesloe, a five minute dawdle from Cottesloe train station.

Aside from the garish pink walls and hyper-baroque thematic furnishings, Pink Zulu is a spirited joust into African cuisine. I’m no expert on the cuisine of the Dark Continent and I’m not calling the shots as to what is a regional speciality, whether it’s done right or wrong, or what receptacle it’s traditionally served in.

I want to know:

1. does it have a good balance of flavour?
2. is there a depth of flavour?
3. are the texture/s matching the overall impression of the dish?
4. how much am I paying for it, and can I make it at home better?

In the case of Pink Zulu the menu is well considered and the flavours work very interestingly. It’s a case of the, “oh, mmm” head-cockingly pensive look as you try an figure out the spice/flavour combo.

Some dishes conjure up the memory of an Indian curry, others are crisp and fresh. They are sound, confident and have a good direction. Given some of the awkward ingredients, I’m happy to part with my money for the experience.

The wine list is clearly the meddling of a Constellation rep and they’re pitched at a reasonable price point. But being a oenophile by trade, I’m overly critical here in saying it’s the wines and glasses that are the Achilles heel of the restaurant — I want a roomy Spiegelau, not an 80s goblet. The cocktails look more worldly, and the organ of bottles behind the barman suggests they know the score at least on that beverage front.

The coffee of Pink Zulu is house blend of single estate Africans — the roaster’s name escapes me, but Tanzanian and Kenyan feature prominently.

Pink Zulu is an intriguing space for a decent night out, where ideas are playfully stirred, if not just yet, to full potency.

(08) 9384 7688

6 Napoleon Street
Cottesloe, 6011

I’m a sucker for a good wine list.

It can tell a great deal about the experience and confidence the propriters have, their worldly awareness of all things vinous, and the degree of playfullness their clients have with the dollar bill.

At Lamont’s Cottesloe the carte du vin is as extensive as any cerebral bottle-shop — for it is a restaurant spliced with a fine wine store.

Set in a row of shops on Cottesloe’s Station Street, this Lamont’s is the forth incarnation by owner-chef, Kate Lamont. The vision of an enoteca, of serving wine by the glass, light meals to something substantial with an open option for cafe, came into fruition in 2008. Yes it’s a small bar, yes it’s a restaurant, and yes, it’s a winestore. The place is packed on the later days of the week with most of the movers-and-shakers of Perth.

Diners sit alongside the kitchen which stretches the length of the store — as do the wine racks — giving an involved atmosphere to the food. The dramatic face of the kitchen, with it’s many moods of the night, and gastronomic miracles woven, are for all for the viewing. You can sit behind a wall of Comte Georges de Vogue Chambolle–Musigeny and dream of drinking every bottle. This restaurant marries sense-of-place well.

Rolling with the seasons, the menu follows the cycle of years in thigh-cast ripples. It’s modern Australian in style, with no holding back on calories. Winter had the standout dishes of duck arancini and venison chorizo. Oh, and the memory of the pork rillette — my liver just got hard thinking about it. They’re full-flavoured, provincal-esque, and laconically satisfying.

The dining experience overall — each time I’ve been there — has been great.

It’s what you’d expect from the restaurant in Cottesloe and surrounds. And it’s what you’d expect to pay.

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

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

Skirting around the faux pas food–wine matching, Shiraz and Asian is an unlikely combination. But it’s a folly well played.

I know food and wine matching goose-steppers would resound crisp Riesling or Sem Savvy Blancs with Asian food, so it was with stubborn denial that I ventured with a friend to Hawker’s Cuisine with a McLaren Vale Shiraz in tow. The aim was to see what dishes this rickety bee-hive of a restaurant had to offer.

Upon first impressions, this restaurant looks like any grime encrusted eatery in China Town. If the jittery queue of people trying to get in is anything to go by, they would sure be blind to this fact. We were assured our table would be ready in 10–15 minutes. No biggie. I wouldn’t have expected a place bursting at the seams to accommodate anyone as a table walk-in.

After having a stroll around Northbridge to kill some time, we entered Hawker’s Cuisine again, bumbled around inside for a few more minutes, then sat at a table. I would imagine everyone goes through this triage in order to dine. Our waitperson scurries off with an order. Wine time.

While at Steves earlier on that day, I had bumped into a young winemaker, Tom Stransky. A graduate from UWA’s Viticulture and Oenology, his curious intensity lead him around the world in 13 vintages to almost every wine producing region bar Spain.
He has delicately made small-batch wines from McLaren Vale fruit, and had them emblematically labelled. The Mo’ Shiraz it’s called. Profoundly, it has a Mo’ on it.

Tom was to save the only spare bottle he had that day (the gold mo’s are apparently for family) to give to his uncle, but he graciously gave it for tasting. [Tasting note at the end]

We ordered Spicy Squid Tentacles (they apologised and brought out sliced squid tubes instead), Beef Rendang and Tofu Veggie Claypot. Aside from the squid being a little too oily with a thin batter, the flavour of intensity were commanding. The Rendang espically married the wine, a soft sweet fruit immixed with the star ainse based beef. The tofu came out on a little tea-light burner to keep it hot, was as expected in quality and mass.

This is a place for a no frills midweek meal. The service is edgy but effective.

Like most people dining outside, we disregarded the cockroach crawling up the wall in favour of a steaming bowl of Asian love. Really hits the spot.

Thumbs up for Hawker’s.

The Mo’ Shiraz 2008 (Mt Compass, McLaren Vale, Clarendon)
If supple could be used as a descriptor in wine, this red is a Russian contortionist. It has a chunky fruit-jube character on the nose, it’s a ripe temptress. Slurped with gusto over the tongue, The Mo’ is lighter than expected in tannin profile. This gives two impressions. One a bendy, flexible nature to it — a fleshy skinned plum cheek. The other, it’s not as tapering or elongatedly thread-like. It ends solidly with ample fruit weight. 17.1

Mexican cuisine to the USA is Vietnamese to Australia.

We can go to pretty much any city and get decent true-to-form Viet fare. I can’t really say that for Mexican.

It’s not suprising (given our proximity to Mexico) we have a reached a glass ceiling on the stretch to fine mexican cuisine. Stodgy, canonical and banal would round up a usual “Tex-Mex” offering.

I’m not a pro when it comes to Mexican food — I don’t get the chance to eat enough of it. But when I do, it’s gormandised so quickly I’m usually left with a crusty adherence around my mouth — possibly resembling refried beans or tortilla crisp that people poke fun at long after I’ve left the table. This is what happened at The Flying Taco. It was a piece of lettuce that covered my tooth however, so I resembled  someone who had a misadventure in pub brawl. The food was spectral. A rainbow of flavours. My eyes had finally opened to Meh-hi-co.

The Flying Taco is an honest, approachable entry into Mexican food. It has a modular menu which consists of a subway-esque ordering method. First choose your (carb) style, then your filling, then a salsa. It’s a chicane of possible flavour matches spurring a flexible choice for people that would tire of same old same old.

You can pick up a feed for less than $15 making it a port-of-call for frequenters of the Rosemount Hotel up the road.

I got a Burrito + Mole Poblano + Salsa Chipotle. It came nestled in a basket, resembling a soft glittering infant, warm from maternal care with smokey chilli-garlic sauce at its side.

And the taste? Round and fruit-inspired, the beans and rice gave an interesting texture to the soft flour tortilla. The salsa is where the joy was at. Piquant and agreeably hot (could have been hotter!).

I guess what stood out for me was the freshness and interplay of flavours. Not everything tasted like Old el paso taco seasoning. It’s the mantra that is written conspicuously on the back of the flyer.

“Genuine, healthy, homemade, fresh food — made to order, with love, quickly.”

Flying Taco doesn’t stray from that point.

The Flying Taco

40 Angove Street, North Perth, 6006

Wed — Sun

Noon– Late

BYO Cash & EFT

P: 08 9227 6393

If you’ve been trundling down St Georges Terrace in the past few months, no doubt you would have seen the construction of one of Perth’s most anticipated small bars slash restaurants. The Greenhouse.

Drawn from the valiant effort of its older sister in Melbourne, Perth’s version has the rooftop garden (complete with veggie patch, fruit trees, and herb rows) and that oh so intriguing external lattice. Yes, those are individual terracotta pots. Yes, strawberries. Hundreds of them.

The idea here is simple. Be green. Minimise the carbon foot print. Make us scratch our heads over the energy inefficient lives we live. From the straw-bale insulation to the recycled plastic-container reinforced concrete, every effort has been made to reduce, reuse and recycle. More planning has gone into this than meets the eye. It’s one of those light bulb moments, where the environment and architecture have combined. It’s the way it should have always been. Ecologically sound, holistic approached. In many ways, The Greenhouse is leading by example.

On the menu you’ll find offerings for breakfast, lunch and dinner. All ingredients are sourced from producers either biodynamic or organic. Crushed peas & basil, poached eggs & toast to break your fast, or the tomato & goats curd tart, mixed leaves, aged balsamic for a midday feast, and dinner time it looks like a tapas. Piquillo pepper & manchego croquettes and pig head & trotter terrine, pickled cherries. Yum. And very reasonably priced.

It’s an interesting little zone, the Greenhouse. It’s unbleached, organic and recycled. It’s unapologetic hippy-esque nature lends to the charm. There is a prodigiously young staff-ship who look like they’re on their way to a Copenhagen; chirpy, hard-wired for action, in the first flush of youth.

Can’t wait to see those strawberries bloom. And for the place to put down roots.

The Greenhouse

100 St. Georges Terrace
Perth WA 6000

Mon & Tues 7am – 5pm

Wed to Sat 7am -12am