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

The thought struck me the other day while walking through Subiaco, how things are falling into place. Initially they started off slowly, like the trajectory of the sun in summer, but we do get there in the end. I also thought, it’s often the people who hold the doors open for us, or show us the way, that we get to where we are wanting to. I wanted to add this category of “People who inspire me”, to acknowledge people in my life who have been influential. Thank You.

Larry Cherubino

There are few people in possession of a palate as acute, or a business mind as savvy. Combine the two, and it’s no surprise that Larry has won the coveted title of James Halliday’s ‘Winery of the Year 2011′. In a parallel of wine tasting worlds, Matt Skinner also named him ‘Producer of the Year’ in his annual 2011 wine guide. Larry has travelled the world making wines in USA, France, Italy and New Zealand, and knows what works to the enth degree.

I had the opportunity of interviewing Larry for SPICE magazine back in Winter 2008. We talked, ‘why he chose to settle in Frankland River’, the upcoming grape varieties, and the environmental future of Great Southern Region. Every answer was impressive, showing a tender thought process involved. Larry gave me the opportunity to work alongside him, helping out in communications. Doors have opened to other places.

Larry’s perceptive intensity shows in his work. His wine range Ad Hoc, The Yard and Cherubino all respectively over-deliver on price, are smartly dressed packages, and have a single vineyard focus. The latter is an important issue to ensure Australia’s export and domestic market doesn’t suffer from becoming an amorphous vinous multi-regional punch.

He’s leading the way with a new philosophy for the way things are done in the vineyard and winery.

And it looks to be a raging success.

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

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.

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

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