Tannic Teeth

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

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.

If the concept of coasting along on a treadly on a sun-glazed weekend morning — stuffing yourself with carbs and sitting along an inlet — appeals then read on: it’s mostly about toast.

Toast is a busy little eatery that can be found along Claisebrook inlet in East Perth. Its equal outdoors / indoors ratio and first-come first-served service motto means it’s casual and unpretentious. Compare this to most of the surrounding restaurants and you can get an appreciation of the scene: laid back attitude of men and women in their middle years, clad to the nines in lycra, hopping on bikes worth the deposit of a small house.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and toast makes no apology for the forenoon-centric menu. You can get toast of almost every description and have it lathered in butter, salmon and avocado or jam. I opted for the Nordic memory of the open rye sandwich with avocado and tomato salsa. Toast pour Rubra coffee, which using the good-old long black as a yard-stick, was served perfectly in form. The meal was bang on the money for size and temperament. Sure, most of the menu you could whip up at home with a bit of sunday morning exertion, but you’re also paying for the view, which, beyond the fluorescent bicyclers, is idyllic. Classic East Perth.

Considering the food on the menu, in some regards it’s self-limiting. You would go if you’re a carboholic.

By the looks of trade on weekend mornings, you would be forgiven for lurking around the restaurant’s extremity to snatch a table freshly vacated — such is the demand. Get in early if you’re planning on heading down to Claisebrook.

Simple.

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.

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.