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.

Maylands is turning out to be quite a neat little suburb.

I say that because the times when, by happenstance I venture down the profoundly named Eighth Ave, I find boutique ready heritage-encrusted buildings and the hope that local government zoning will catch up with sweaty-palmed developers.

There will be more of the Mrs S type shops soon — for this is a recipe worth replicating.

The cafe is by most standards, honest, upfront, and accessible. How the hell can you classify a cafe as being honest? Are there dishonest cafes out there?

Well all truthfulness considered, what makes up an honest cafe is the fact that when you go there, despite how busy it is, the staff are accommodating (regardless of the amount of tables turned over), the food is plated up well, the flavour is on the mark, and you can walk away without the feeling as though you’ve burnt a hole in your hip pocket.

Mrs S is a high-ceilinged, pastel daydream, hyper-nostalgic offering that everyone wants a slice of. Just check the glistening (slices) out. It’s a pin-up girl of hipstamatic ecstasy.
We went to Mrs S on a cramped and humid Sunday morning. Hard walls do nothing to absorb the sound of happy patrons.

I opted for Granny June’s cornbread, bacon, poached eggs and maple syrup. While the flavour was all there, the cornbread had the character and texture denoting a creamed-corn element, something that perhaps makes it Granny June’s recipe.

The cornbread I’ve had in the past (not from Mrs S but from a place to be blogged) was firm, moist, and with a peculiar granular corn-meal texture (akin to polenta). This was a ‘close but not cigar’ moment of matching for Mrs S. Bread with a firmer texture can hold its ground against bacon and poached eggs or else you’ll end up with a pappy mess.

Both those two elements (the eggs and bacon) were both fine examples of a kitchen doing it right. Besides, if you eff up these two elements, then perhaps undertaking would be a worthwhile career path.

Finally what to say about Mrs S’ coffees?

The barista on the day certainly knew his way around the machine and top marks for that. The long black delivered, deftly retained the crema for a considerable time and my partner’s macchiato would certainly precipitate a return visit.

Would this be a place I’d return to? Yes for coffee, Yes for atmosphere and God yes for cakes. But perhaps I’ll try the Big breaky next time.

Perhaps I’m deluded in thinking there is some nobility in doing a Perth summer without aircon.

Yep. We don’t have one, and I’m reminded just how sweltering it can be in a small (rented) townhouse when the temperature soars above 40 and spiders die on the west-facing wall.

I guess you could say I’m tight in refusing to buy a small evaporative aircon unit, but I really can’t see the point as the (town)house is so poorly insulated that filling a room with a desirable 16C zephyr will be all but eradicated. And even then, come the afternoon, when the Fremantle doctor breezes though Perth, it’s bearable enough to open the house. So really you’re spending a lot of energy (and money) on cooling something that will eventually be lost. I can understand if your house was designed with an energy conscious mind: have double glazed windows, reflective blinds etc, then you’d get more efficiency from running a said unit.

Given that most of the houses in Perth are appallingly designed to maximise heating/cooling efficiency, where does that leave those (like us) who don’t want to Bikram conditions, but CBF wasting money on a crappy aircon unit?

Fans.

Then you mosey on down to a department store to find a quality fan. Let me tell you, finding a quality fan is as hard as finding an energy efficient townhouse. So a bit of research, on design, quality, build brought me to an American brand of fan called Vornado. I know the name and marketing is dorky (and so is the box it comes in), but by-gees it’s a good fan! The model that caught my eye, the Vornado VF20 is a re-jigged replica of the very model released by the company in the 1940s. Sleek all steel construction, double-cone inlet, and deep pitched propeller blades speak volumes of the insightful design. You can feel the solid construction — this fan is quality.

Operating at full-bore it chews up only 29 watts, 26 watts on medium and 20 watts when it purrs on low. It can be tilted directly upwards, though it doesn’t have a oscillate function. Vornado’s website suggests this is because it’s less of a fan and more an air circulator. By moving air in summer or winter, you reduce heat gradients that naturally occur, reducing heating/cooling costs. Simply aim the fan to the farthest point of the room and it circulates enough air for you to reconsider running aircon in summer. But at $239 (not what I paid online, but RRP) it’s not an easy sale, especially when you can get a simple, plastic pedestal fan for $30.

Weighing up the option of a small (evaporative) aircon unit, which will:

1. only be efficient when the humidity is low,

2. require a constant flow of dry air (so as to remain efficient) — hence an open window letting in warm air somewhere in the house (thus more-or-less negating the aircon in the first place),

3. use 1000+ watts of energy,

4. only really needs to be used on 35C plus days, (but when the Freo doctor comes in, it’s therefore more eco-nomical to turn it off)…

… it was obvious the fan was a better year-round purchase.

We bought this thinking that if the fan was a dud in some way, it’ll still look dapper as a 60-year-old curio does on a shelf.

So impressed we were, we now have two.

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

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.

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

Winter in Perth is punitive.

It’s not particularly so as a result of the weather — often the powder-blue lens of the sky curves around us most of the day — but more so for artistic diurnal options.

We struggle when it comes to arts and museums. Perth is culturally anaemic.

If only we could be more like our quirky and experimental sister, Melbourne. I guess however one could argue, we would be, er, Melbourne and lose our Perthian identity. Screw that — I ain’t wearing brown and grey tones.

Picking up on the flailing threads of a struggling arts and culture, the new elected Lord Mayor trumpeted to action, reviving Perth’s Arts and Culture scene.

So now we have more interesting nibbles when it comes to exhibitions. The Art Gallery WA is exhibiting ‘Relativity’, the grotesquely endearing works of Australian artist Patricia Piccinini. It unashamedly details the visual affect of converging biotechnology and the human body — we CAN return to apes. The WA Museum is also dealing out it’s own fire and brimstone. A Day in Pompeii it’s called. When Mt Vesuvius spat the dummy.

Due to contractual agreements, no photography is allowed in the exhibition . However what I can tell you is it’s worth checking out.

There is something mortally binding about staring at a body cast of a Roman knowing they were incinerated in 1000C pyroclastic flow. They carbonised.
Their jaggedly poised bodies, speak volumes of our own precarious existence of our life on top a sea of lava. How quickly life is abandoned and forgotten.

It’s an exhibition that doesn’t make the rounds a lot.

The last time it came I was inutero. All I can say is, that it was much better the second time.

A Day in Pompeii — Wester Australian Museum Perth (Cultural Centre)

Erupting 21st May — 5th September 2010

Prices

$20 Adults

$14 Concession

$12 Child

$54 Family

A playwright friend recently asked if I could photograph his upcoming play.

“The Myth of Julian Rose” it’s called.

This solemn and distortive play opens a can of festering worms into the incredulousness of maternal sexual child-abuse.

An unsettling theme flowing though the play like a toxic undercurrent, the main character (and audience) is terrorised by a demonic Minotaur presumably an allegory of suppressed memory thanks to an ignoble mother.

The lack of forgiveness can be seen as a destructive energy, wreaking havoc upon personalities. Yet this morbid glee has another side.

“The Myth of Julian Rose” is elegiacally puzzling as it is avant-gardist.  It’s a squeamish, guileful and instructive invitation of contempt from the audience.

And if had that impact. It got through.

The Myth of Julian Rose, Perth Cultural Centre  53 James Street, Northbridge 8 – 26 June 2010, $25 Full/$20 Con

Bookings through The Blue Room Theatre or (08) 9227 7005