Tannic Teeth

We all know the sense of jealous proprietary, when, after a few months of opening, your “little discovery” becomes the next best thing in town.

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.

Whisper wine bar is my kind of (wine)bar.

It’s cosy, francophillic, and focuses on the company of others to entertain you. No LCD monitors playing the latest SKY broadcast here, just plain, unabandoned human interaction. The place could have been surgically removed from a Parisian corner if not for the lustrous Jarrah tables and floors which shine like spilt Burgundy.

On the other hand, I can see why some people wouldn’t like it. It has no coffee, only a handful of beers and even less Scotch (and you can forget the other spirits). And the approach to food is as canny as the reason for the choice of only just 7 wines by the glass. Keep it simple.

There is a very good reason why small bars work. Well, to begin with they’re, um, small. Size of a bar weeds out rambunctious behaviour for the same reason why we, as humans, go inexplicably silent when riding a lift full of strangers. The staff at a small bar provide efficient service because the ratio of staff to patron is higher. You get to know the staff and the exchange is mutual. It’s the same reason why you’d want to be on first-name basis with your butcher, baker or candlestick maker. Whisper’s reception is warm, casual and intellectual. It’s geared more like ‘that corner bar’ feel that you’d pay several thousand dollars on travel to experience in France.

The menu is astonishingly simple. Fresh baguette and duck pate. Marinated octopus and goats cheese. These are bold flavours that have several wine-match options. There is something provincially satisfying when you have a chalky dry white back-to-back with a liver pate and watch the street turn sepia in the sun. People travel farther to France, pay more, for less.

Whisper Wine Bar has a saucy little cellar of wines spanning very reasonably priced Australians through to cherry-picked Frenchies. You can find that eclectic trove up stairs in a glass vault, although it’s only marginally more seducing than the romantic balcony that overflows with views of Essex St.

I’d wish to see a rambling cobbled Parisian back alleyway, but you can’t have your crêpe and eat it too.

After receiving an email of a former-reader now hungry-reader, desperate to “take her husband to somewhere yummy on the weekend”, I have been piled high with guilt. So I’ve self-lurched back into writing another post, this time perilously close to a wine-review deadline. If I miss the cut-off date, you are to blame. Yes, you know who you are.

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.

Shit coffee gives me the shits. Well not literally.

It’s because I know I can do it at home—better, that, and the fact I just forked out $3.50 to pay some chump at a machine to immolate my long macchiato.

On the other hand, good coffee is like a bolt from the blue.

It sends filamentous sparks across my brain, and somehow the waxing misanthropy is abated. I want to hug people.

So it’s reassuring to know that there are more and more boutique cafes poking up-and-out of our sunny pavemented city.

What is so special about boutique cafes I hear you ask? They are focused on delivering good coffee, in unique surroundings. Just think. If a boutique cafe made terrible coffee it wouldn’t last long. It too would suffer from a (fiscally) fiery death.

Mooba in Subiaco is not a place where beans are sacrificed. It is a place to get coffee that delivers that blue–bolt with precision.

Curving to the street corners of Outridge and Railway Road, Moodba is a cafe that makes clever use of light, space and glass.

The ceilings are high and the network of upstair’s plumbing is unapologetically contrasted in red. Polished glass meets structural steel that is cool and airy. This meets the warm brown decor echoed in Mooba’s signage. Artist prints hang from the walls. The coffee just looks that little bit browner…

But enough about the space.

How is the coffee? Top-notch.

The long macc I had, was a double ristretto pour. A Mooba house-blend by 5 Senses, it was piquant and pure, rounded by the soft-sweet milk froth. (Abstract Gourmet said he’d hurt me if I used my wine terms for coffee, so I’m taking self-defence classes)

It’s what I would expect for a small business that is switched on. Facebook. Twitter. Blog. They’re there.

You need coffee on the run? SMS your order to the cafe’s dedicated number and pick it up as you breeze though.

Now that’s using the old noggin. And it the old noggin works best when it’s had a good cuppa.

Enjoy.

(Mooba also holds a small bar liquor licence)

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

I acknowledge it has been a while since the last small bar review because life seems to have its way of insisting to apply more attention to where it’s needed most.

So it was refreshing that to get back into a small bar late on a sunny afternoon in Fremantle.

Mrs Brown is the name. And she ain’t as boring as she sounds.

As the story goes Queen Victoria had a little thing for a Scottish servant called John Brown. Perhaps it was more than the companionship he offered or how he fiercely protected her. Either way, Vicky and John became something of an informal item, hence her name Mrs Brown. The location of the small bar (not the late monarch) is on Queen Victoria Street. The location of the bar is a good enough excuse for that name, I say.

You could be forgiven into thinking that this place brings back memories of The Stanley. In some ways it does.

There is a Flipside burger bar next door, and patrons are welcome to bring food over.

Even decor of the bar feels the same. Shabby-chic. Retro meets federation. Have a squiz at the portrait of Mrs Brown and spot the 10 modern elements. Check out the crazy welded lighting feature or play with the magnetic words. It’s mature-age fun.

Wines appear from across the international board, there is one tap beer and the rest are well selected bottles. A top range of spirits crown the shelves, Hendrick’s Gin appears to make an impromptu feature along the stairwell wall.

Grab a burger from next door, sit down with a G & T and watch the world blur by.

Mrs Brown

241 Queen Victoria Street

North Fremantle

P:  9336 1887

Monday to Saturday – open to midnight
Sunday – open to 10 pm.

While some small bars are going for a specific experience, there are others that take a broad canvas approach and hit all bases with a good deal of effort. There can be space for good meals, a casual sit down coffee, and when the time calls for it, a stand up bar.

Places like these are few and far between. One of those happens to be The Cabin.

Now the first thing you will notice as you walk up the set of steps towards The Cabin is the dedicated disabled access lift. Big tick in my book. Another thing is theme. They have gone all out — and seemingly no expense spared — to deck the place in a cozy ski lodge feel. Exposed brick, unpolished wooden tables. Faux taxidermy hangs from the walls and real hides on the floor. Pity it doesn’t snow in Perth.

The kitchen placed on that side of the bar, still declares it’s presence. The menu during the week is serious enough to stop any grumbling tummies where as on Friday and Saturday the focus shifts towards grazing-tapas style offerings. Coffee? Sure, take a seat. Inside or on the balcony? The given name of bistro is not far off the mark. It’s a kind of flexible fusion between small bar and petit restaurant.

The beverage cross-hair is smack bang on wines. The list has been chosen by the former sommelier of Must Wine bar whose name escapes me. It’s quietly considered, with not one New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc offered by the glass. Drink their great Rieslings offered instead. Reds are Australian or from our Latino brethren across the Indian and Pacific Oceans.

With Summer on its way, it’ll be cocktails and chilled whites. For there could be, short of one of life’s guiltier pleasures, to overlook ‘The Strip’ in Mt Hawthorn, cold Riesling in hand and watch the sun pull it’s dying veil from the city. And wish for snow on a 40 degree day.

The Cabin

174 Scarborough Beach Road. (Cnr Coogee St)

Monday to Friday - midday to 12.00 midnight

Saturday - 9am – 12.00 midnight

Sunday – 9am – 10.00pm

If I were to tell you there’s a small bar where you can take a burger or pizza from next door, plonk yourself down on plump sofa, order a sinister bottle of red and the staff would be cool with that, you would think I’m telling a porky pie.

But there is. It’s approachable, friendly and fosters a sense of community. It’s called The Stanley.

A relatively new small bar situated next to the Flipside burger bar, The Stanley offers a casual yet classy approach to the small bar scene. There is no socialite premise here, of course if you want to mingle so be it, but it’s also nice to just sit on the plush array of sofas and chairs (there is even a chaise longue) and soak up the house party like atmosphere. Rearrange the small chairs to your group’s liking. It’s no biggie.

If you’re coming here, don’t think about cocktails. There is not a Boston Shaker to be seen. You will however find rows of Riedel O (funky stemless wine glasses) and a well considered rack of Reds and Whites; with all but two wines offered by the glass. Generally speaking the focal points of wines fall into WA for whites, and South Australia for Red. There are some international runners and I’m sure this will change over time. There are some usual suspects for an international beer list and cider drinkers are not left out in the cold.

The intention for this small bar to be a place where locals can swan down, have a leisurely glass of whatever for whatever, is not far off the mark. It reveals the Irish flare by the management, for something reminiscent of home, seen by the blinged up Jesus and the patron saint of The Stanley. It’s all very cheeky. The Sunday morning priests would be getting hot around the collar. Oh, and check out the toilet door signs. I LOL’D.

It’s a little bit of cheeky ecclesiastical wholesome fun.

Catha-holic.

The Stanely

Wednesday – Thursday 4pm – 11pm

Friday and Saturday 3pm-12pm

Sunday 2pm-10pm

294 Cambridge St, Wembley

08 93474481

Traipse into the James St. Check.

Cross dingy car park. Check.

Enter iron gates to graffitied alley way. Check.

Find chairs and tables, and enter door way.

Welcome to Ezra Pound.

It’s currently the word on everybody’s lips. Ezra Pound. Ezra Pound. Ezra Pound. I just rolls off the tongue like a Tom Collins on a hot spring day. Except it was wild and wooly and I had a Negroni. It still hit the spot even though it was 15C. It was expertly made by owner slash manager Talmage, formerly of 1907 and West End Deli. This is his first venture into the small bar scene. Not bad for a 24 year old.

Ezra’s going for the friendly American neighbourhood bar feel. There’s a table perfect for the dealing of cards, crescents of chairs for playful banter and what looks like pews of a church for something different. The atmosphere is friendly, almost as if this were in some ghetto and we were the privileged few to gain entrance. Some decor is tired, worn and weary. Other parts are plush and new. To pay homage to the man himself – Ezra – there is a book cabinet of various works of poetry.

The main feature here are classic cocktails. Tom Collins, Negroni, Sidecar, Old Fashioned. Don’t be offended if you’re refused a JD’s and Coke. Go elsewhere for that. Wines, are ‘In focus’ meaning a bi-monthly rotation of wine from different producers, acquainting the public with different styles. Not a Sauvignon Blanc to be seen. Horay. Beers follow the same suite.

It’s an of eclectic mix of novelty and nouveau. Coopers longneck in brown paper bags, old (and functional) cash register, signature cocktails in jam jars (courtesy of Matt from Palace Foods). Not entirely un-Northbridge. I half expected to see an ‘old timer’ with shiny skin and white fleecy hair playing the blues on a harmonica. It is Northbridge after all.

Ezra Pound
Williams Lane, Northbridge

(189 William St)

Tuesday 4pm-12am

Wednesday-Saturday 1pm-12am

Sunday 1pm-10pm

Prohibitionatory Charm.