Livingroom for more

Image from the restaurant's website

"…A Hendricks and ice for me"

"Would you like that with cucumber?"

"Yes please!" My heart skipped a happy beat.

Dining in a suburban restaurant I did not expect to find Hendricks Gin available, but that short discourse told me that I had been placed in good hands.

 


In my experience the further you go from the Melbourne CBD, the better the Asian food. The converse applies to European food, especially in the South Eastern suburbs. 


Go beyond Attica in Ripponlea and the imaginative, conceptual cooking seems to disappear until you reach the countryside, where The Royall Mail and Loam are edging into creative modern territory. The same can be said for what I recently heard described as 'Honest Food' – good ingredients delivered simply, using traditional techniques and served up with a whole bunch of integrity.


While the expensive, modern and adventurous is something I looked forward to about twice a year, it is the honest stuff that would entice me to leave my own kitchen more often. My two favourite exponents of this kind of thing unfortunately are far from my home: George Biron's Sunnybrae in Birregurra and Steve Cumper's Red Velvet Lounge in Cygnet, Tasmania. The tyranny of distance means that I don't dine at either often enough. But now I think I've found another to add to the list, and it's amazingly in the burbs.


By the suburbs I don't mean way out in the heartland of McMansions where Asian cooking reaches amazing highs at low price points. No, this venue is in Malvern, where the leafy streets are filled with meticulously restored and extended period homes, well serviced by public transport and a mere stone's throw from our Jewish heartland. My new happy place venue is Livingrooom.


Hugging a corner in Claremont Street, Livingroom stretches its verandahs wide over the pavement. Close to Malvern station and away from the din of bustling Glenferrie Road it squats low on the landscape surrounded by genteel shops and a doll hospital.


This is a locale that keeps a respectable distance from the youthful outlook of St.Kilda, Windsor and the tourist aspect of the CBD; an interesting spot to do business. And somehow Livingroom manages to face the challenge of entertaining the professional families and Empty Nesters residing in Armadale through to Caulfield with integrity from breakfast through to dinner service.

They do it by making their guests feel like they're visiting neighbours for a dinner party, or by day that they've dropped in at a girlfriend's for a gossip and a cuppa. On Saturday afternoon it's a place where a man of a certain age can just be alone with the newspapers or a group of middle aged men can grab an espresso before catching a train to the football. 

Walking the tightrope between various functions, Livingroom manages to be smart, bright, spacious and kid friendly from breakfast through to dinner and at night is as intimate as the dining room of a picket fenced, restored five bedroom Federation house, with parent's retreat and outdoor living area.


Inside, an eclectic arrangement of old domestic dining tables and chairs are delineated into two spaces by chandeliers in the lower, more formal area and red shaded pendant lights in an upper room that feels more café in style. This second space is dominated by the coffee machine, wine fridges and a toy box. On entry the Kitchen is visible and in it you will spy Head Chef Darren Daley.

In 1999 Darren was recruited from London's Bibendum restaurant at the height of its popularity and prowess. He was one of a number of British Chefs lured to Melbourne to work at the Sofitel. At the time TV Masterchef judges, Gary Mehigan and George Calombaris were also employed there.


Darren however, is a quiet achiever. You won't find young Restaurant Critics fawning over Darren. He has not sought out their favour nor courted the limelight. He is not one of The Australian Food Twitterati. He does not have a big PR machine behind him, though I do suspect the PR hawks will be circling, hoping to get a piece of the action soon.


I've watched Darren's progression over the years. He has worked confidently and quietly since leaving The Sofitel by working at reputable venues. From being the lynch pin in revered gastropubs such as The Kingston in Richmond, to a stint at Guy Grossi's Mirka at Tolarno and then over to head up Sud's two venues, he has consistently produced a quality product, built on a passion for what he does best.

I respect the honesty of his cooking. He takes an artisanal approach. I have watched him make his own sausages, his eyes mist over at the thought of slow cooked dishes and heard him talk with excitement of cha sui bao – Cantonese roast pork buns. In his kitchen, a passion for showcasing good produce is at the fore. And to add to that there is also an honesty in the service, where Darren's sister - a Sommelier in training – works alongside staff recruited from Maha and other reputable venues, who strike a chord between knowledgeable and unpretentious.


So from breakfast to dinner you will find polite subtlety, attention to detail and quality both in service and cooking. A brand new wine list is extensive, chosen by Alan Markham, the owner of Livingroom. This list, I would suggest is to some guests, a little intimidating. But in a thoughtful manner, tasting notes for the European and Australian selection prevents potential blushes.


To me, on a number of levels they have a difficult clientele to woo. If the menu were to sound too molecular or fanciful it would turn the conservative core off, but if it doesn't sound that little bit special, it won't entice those looking for the night out with a brag factor either. So faced with the tightrope of a dinner menu I honestly found it tough to make a decision what to eat. I was tempted by much, but initially thought perhaps it wasn't pushing my boundaries. I later realised that the written menu did not do the delicious creations justice. So I wondered if a certain amount of dumbing-down had been called for, so as not to scare the locals?


I would describe Darren's offering as Contemporary European, at times rustic. In fact on a recent trip to Paris, we found that Livingroom was in step with the regular hang-outs of city living Parisians, because here, it's all about flavor. The dishes are not excessively tricked up with gadgetry or gimicry, just strong traditional techniques. I feel Darren does his suppliers proud. From early evening, starting with diners of families and older folk, to couples having a night away from the kids, it is clear that the customers are well taken care of.

Amongst the entrees on the night we visited there were some excellent locally made charcuterie options from Siketa Meats, a wagyu bresoala dish and crowd pleasers such as fried zucchini flowers stuffed with lemon, ricotta and mint and a roasted pepper dressing. But this clientele also love the chicken livers with capers, parsley, witlof and Roquefort dressing.


While polenta crusted sardines stirred Mr Sticki, he is a goats cheese buff, so went for the cheese in fritters with lemon thyme that was a roll call of his favourite ingrdients. The creamy texture and salt factor in the cheese was pleasantly offset by a piquant julienne of apple, radicchio, candied walnuts and truffled honey.

A five spice quail was reminiscent of dish I grew up with. Satisfyingly crisp fried, fleshy and subtly flavoured it works well with pickled chilli, mint and coriander. While comforting to me, I wondered whether the local clientele considered this Asian inspired offering exotic? But then I noticed in each course there was at least one dish that might appear challenging to the regulars and a number of items that some had not heard of such as, guanciale and scamorza.

Scanning the mains, I toyed with the idea of Parsley and gorgonzola risotto with apple and rocket salad. I flirted with pan fried Mirror Dory with sautéed cavala nero, confit duck and red wine puy lentils. Mr Stickyfingers chose a Black Angus sirloin with soft buckwheat polenta and braised shallots - over the skirt steak with pommes frites, truffle salt and veal jus. Finally, after much deliberation I selected a rabbit wellington with spinach, mushroom, sage and gorgonzola farce. I'm a sucker for meat in pastry and I love rabbit.

My main was very generous. Had not the beloved been on hand, I suspect I would barely have managed half. But that's just me. The contents had sufficient moisture while not making the pastry soggy. The gorgonzola gave the meat a hint of truffle like flavor, adding an unexpected depth to the dish. We could find no fault in the beautifully aged steak either. The shallots braised in wine were a delicious compliment to the deeply flavoured meltingly good meat.

At this point I must apologise for the crappy food photography. The dining scenario after the 8pm peak is moody and candlelit. It is the dinner party scenario of viewing your companions in beautiful, soft, candlelight that is unforgiving on food bloggers wielding a discrete camera that avoids flash.


As the night trickled on into the hour that gen Y usually start their evening, greed kicked in and we opted to share a dessert. While Mr coveted the Munster, Roquefort papillon and the Blairlaith Cheddar, despite hoping to leave room for more, there was no way that our bellies would allow us to man an assault on a cheese course. 


Our waitress nominated the chocolate and peanut fondant with vanilla bean icecream and salted caramel sauce, which totally hit the spot in a gooey, crunchy, sweet-but-not-sweet way. It was perfect in all respects. Like a couple of shuffleboard players we found ourselves dueling to scrape the last remnants from the plate.

Later, rolling outside into the quiet night I knew that I would be back. Being in good hands found us sated on more than one level and happy to have found 'my kind of place' south of the Yarra …. and not so far from Chez Sticky. It's really no wonder that the locals love Livingroom.

Livingroom Restaurant and Cafe

12-18 Claremont Avenue,

Malvern Victoria, 3144 

(03) 9576 0356 | book via website | map & email

Related articles

• Cooking Classes 2010 (sunnybraerestaurantandcookingschool.blogspot.com)
• Epic, sensational lunch at Sunnybrae (melbournegastronome.com)

The Rose Hotel

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.

Dale Carnegie

Once in a while I hook up with old friends - and a couple of new ones - from the advertising industry to chew the fat over a lunchtime cheap eat. I love the comfort of the outing, exchanging news, experiences and ideas. I get excited and chat my head off. The Banff in St.Kilda has been a popular venue for this gathering, but it is always heaving and not a particularly comfortable venue for a medium sized group, so we adjourned today to The Rose in Port Melbourne, which is now run by the previous owners of Banff.



The Rose has been through many incarnations in the twenty odd years that I have been an irregular patron. In the eighties it was a trendy, yuppie pub, popular with the Marketing crowd, then it became a party pub, eventually a retro party pub - playing music from the yuppie era when eighties parties came into vogue - and then for a time a serious wine pub. For the last few years it has been a Gourmet Traveller and Good Food Guide vaunted Greek restaurant and bar, surviving two different ownerships. And then Port Melbourne changed.



The restaurant got increasingly quiet and even enticements to the Greek community such as live basouki music failed to draw them in. A nearby Greek Restaurant that had also once drawn big crowds at a sister venue in Swan Street, Richmond also felt the pinch and moved their focus to a generic European offering, serving cheese degustations, breakfast, coffees and a deli selling pre-made take-home meals.




The elderly Greek community began to die out and their children took advantage of sky-rocketing property prices to sell the down at the heel Port Melbourne family homes that had nurtured them since geting off the boat at Station Pier. I suppose many built Mc Mansions in Oakleigh, and with the move, the local demand for Greek Food was ably sated by Old Man Stavros' plate smashing institution in Albert Park. The Rose was regularly empty and eventually sold. The owners moved to South Melbourne to sell pizzas.



The first I heard of the new regime at the venue came in the form of a flyer - from Rose Bar Pizza - also touting Gourmet pizza albeit with a cleanskin bottle shop. "Not another pizza venue?" I said to Mr Sticky, "We already have eleven pizza joints within walking distance of home. How will they survive?"



But we were sufficiently enticed to try it, being at the end of our street, and because I wanted try Italian Sausage pizza with caramelised onions; Roast pumpkin, Gorgonzola, rocket & pine nut pizza, along with Prawn, chilli, saganaki, lemon & rocket pizza. We did not regret it.

Essentially the menu here is the same as Banff's because the former Chef is now at the Port Melbourne venue. Since her departure, I've noticed that the food in St.Kilda is less reliable and so our moving our group's lunch to Port Melbourne was a sound one. As one of my locals, their offer of a selection of 10 excellent gourmet pizzas at $5.50 for lunch Monday to Friday, and on Monday & Tuesday nights is hard to go past. And I love that this is further proof that you can get gourmet grub that beats Maccas for value.



At Rose Bar Pizza, as it is now known, the pizzas are midsized and thin based with a generous serve of quality toppings. There's no bulk bags of commercially grated cheese or ham of dubious origins here. Each pizza is flavoursome, with the right amount of crunch and chewiness. I can also recommend their salads, the potato, saganaki and rosemary pizza; Chorizo, artichokes, cherry tomato and olive pizza; Moroccan Lamb with mint yoghurt and za'atar pizza and the velvety Macaroni Cheese which arrives in a miniature paella pan.




As a chick, I never seem to be able to finish the pizza on my own so although tempted, I have yet to try the chocolate, cherry & ice cream pizza or the apple crumble & custard version. Given that they have happy hour from 3-6pm every day, I may just have to slide down there for 'afternoon tea'.



Like Banff, they also serve the delicious frothies made by Bearings Brewery in Geelong at $2.50 a pot. So today, at lunch the boys enjoyed a meal for $10.50 including a couple of beers. A couple of them tried the tasting tray at the bar to sample which cleanskin they fancied quaffing, and a good time was had by all in this large, modern yet comfortable room, with it's long marble topped communal space and walls festooned with art and customised pizza boxes decorated by regulars.



Time slipped away quickly in such convivial surrounds. I left clutching a box of my leftover pizza and a takeaway so that my beloved did not miss out. As I walked home to work again overlooking my garden, I counted my blessings: a beautiful Spring day, great friends and simply prepared quality food that didn't break the bank. Life is truly good.

Rose Bar Pizza
309 Bay Street, Port Melbourne,
Victoria, Australia ph. 9646 3580
Mon-Fri Noon until late, Saturday 5pm until late

Sho & tell. Using your noodle?

Stickyfingers to Pat Churchill: "I wonder whether the Chinese roast meat cabinet (sitting proudly in the exposed kitchen, holding roast duck, barbecued pork and roast pork) will now replace the trendy salumi cabinets as 'the new black' of culinary trends."

As I strode down the long gaming floor between the kilometre of Crown Casino's slot machines, I saw tons of scruffy people mesmerised by the lights, colours and panoply of noises clustering in the air around them.


There was no smell of money in the perfectly climate controlled air. Elderly retirees queued for free deep fried snacks at brightly lit generic dining venues and a large group of Asians were cheering loudly at a table near Sho Noodle Bar. Others seemed linked by an invisible umbilical cord to their favourite poker machine.


I recalled years ago, when working on the launch campaign for 'The World of Entertainment' , that Lloyd Williams - the previous owner of the venue - had been considering enforcing a dress code "To keep the tyre-kickers out". Had he not been talked out of that plan the place would probably have been deserted, not enjoying its current popularity.


It had been a while since I had traversed this path. As a non-gambler there's very little interest for me on the gaming floor of a casino. I find no joy watching others spill away their hard earned plastic chips and coins, and somewhere from the recesses of my mind the statistics on attempted suicides at Packer's Pleasure Palace begin to rise to the surface. But human nature is what it is. I do not judge.


I was there at the invitation of Tara Bishop, a former colleague and now the Media Relations Manager, Food & Beverage and Hotels for Crown. After fielding slickly run PR nights for the mainstream media, ethnic press, travel and food websites, she was encouraged by Ed Charles to entertain a handful of bloggers as part of her media strategy to promote the newly opened Sho Noodle Bar.


I think possibly it was a good move on her part as the bloggers have mostly written glowing reports to a wider audience than the traditional media. A google search pulls up a few of them on the front page which is excellent for the venue. Perhaps this will break some unexplored ground and pave the way for more people to visit Sho, for this particular venue is a PR nightmare.






It was a logical thing. Opening an Asian restaurant that specialised in noodles, dumplings and the kinds of food that Chinese, Malaysians and Singaporeans love to eat at odd hours, right in the midst of where many congregate in Melbourne - especially when a number of them are tourists. Keeping it open until 4am on Saturday and Sunday morning would surely corner the market too.


So it should be an easy task to fill the place - no? No.


When Crown Casino opened Sho Noodle Bar they were responding to a perceived need on the gaming floor. The venue houses other quality dining venues, but the ones on the gaming floor are generic. Income is generated in casinos by turning cash over the tables and keeping the slot machines busy, and keeping punters on the gaming floor is vital. So enticing low to mid roller punters, many of whom are Asian, out of the venue onto the promenade to eat Asian food risks the chance of them not returning, of being distracted, and no gaming venue wants that.






So in came Pin Tan, a chef in from Penang - the food obsessed epi-centre of Malaysia - to be supervised by a newly appointed Swiss Culinary Director, Bruno Malzacher, who has worked in hotel catering, from Melbourne to Jordan, to Khazakstan and Japan. And at a cost of $6million, Sho Noodle Bar and Tea Salon was built smack bang in the middle of the gaming floor, with a fitout that borrows heavily from other successful casino dining venues.


Reinforcing the Casino's plan to extend dining options within the entertainment centre, I expect that not only is it hoped that it will service the existing clientele of middle class Asians, but that Sho will become a dining hub for Asiaphiles. Right now though, the place is far from bustling. While only a handful of diners lurk in the dim light of the dining room, it would seem that much of the revenue is currently coming from dishes delivered to the High-Rollers gambling in the Mahogany Room and to their suites in the hotel.





Curious gamblers wander by and peer in casually. They enjoy the view, the free demonstration of noodle making and the Kung Fu tea spectacular. But by and large they are the people who will - when the tummy rumbles - grab a bowl of congee or rice and roast duck in the food court between gambling, not sit in a chi-chi venue to eat the same type of thing.


And herein lies the challenge, the logical idea is its own worst enemy. The average Asian punters consider it too tjuzzy and pricey for simple hawker fare and the non punters to whom it is more suited, will not wander the avenues of poker machines and gaming tables in order to cross its threshold.




What I see here is symptomatic of many Asian venues run by Occidentals. Not enough understanding of the target market is employed in the planning of the venue. When you have an intimate knowledge of your clientele you can pre-empt what they desire. If your supposition is based on your own tatses, you'll miss the mark and no amount of marketing and PR will save the concept.


To me, Sho is another Gingerboy, be it with a pedigreed Asian chef at the helm. These places offer westerners the chance to eat as Asians do without going out of their comfort zone in terms of accoutrements.


But mention Gingerboy to your average Asian punter and you'll hear the words pretentious, over-priced and 'gwei-lo' fodder. In short it is a venue that appeals to those who would never dare set foot in a brightly lit, Laminex table clad, suburban Malaysian restaurant serving excellent food. And although the Gingerboy style clientele have no qualms about paying twice as much as an Asian for the same meal, they're not particularly likely to wander into the belly of the casino to eat Pin Tan's Hawker Food, no matter how authentic it may be.






To explain the Asian mindset in relation to food one needs to delve into the culture. In Asian society, food plays a different role to that of Anglo culture. It's an obsession, but not in the reverential way that occidentals leave to 'Foodies'. It is a grass roots enjoyment of good ingredients, technique and heritage, that spans everyone. More like the French in its passion, though less parochially driven.


In this vein of appreciation, the majority of Orientals could care less what a venue looks like as long as it is well lit and the food is cooked with care and attention to detail. Even the wealthiest of Asians are as happy to sit at a Laminex table to eat off melamine dishes as they are to dine at linen clad tables with ivory chopsticks resting on silver holders.


Food is also very much tied into Asian celebrations, whether as a traditional banquet or corporate entertainment. At this level it is more about expense, show and ritual, one upmanship and showing off. Decorous dining establishments are favoured on these occasions and dishes served usually ring with auspicious names to bring good fortune to the occasion.


In between that you have a notion of value. Hawker food is grazing food and although unlike South East Asia, it is impossible to find a $3 noodle dish in Australia, the perception of how much one is willing to pay for grazing food is fixed in the Oriental mind as being cheap fare.





Sho Noodle Bar offers grazing food at prices above that which the average Asian punter is accustomed to paying for the same dishes. It serves them in surrounds that rip off other flashier venues overseas - which although attractive are not quite in the league of a traditional banquet venue - and that is confusing to the target market.


For the place to be populated by significantly more Asians, the decor would have to change radically and the prices would need to drop a little. And in order to attract the non gambling food crowd, Tara needs to hype to the point where Sho is the hottest ticket in town. Unlike the restaurants on the promenade with their 'rockstar cum celebrity' chefs, this is no easy feat.


Perhaps if the fitout was an ultra modern industrial look decked out with large, bright decorative motifs, or instead of channelling Atelier Robuchon they chose Momofuku Ko as their inspiration, you could have a hybrid venue that would entice all types, or may be not? In marketing you have to stick to your principle target market and with that will come others. I think in this case, sadly Crown tailored Sho to the wrong crowd.




In terms of the food, they're onto a good thing. Technically it was sound, included lard and a whisper of charcoal to the relevant dishes. You can eat the same sort of thing in the burbs, but if you're in the vicinity of the casino it's worth giving a try. I will return to try the Hainan Chicken Rice.


The roast meats on offer were average. I prefer the ones at Linx, and there was was some dissent during our tasting of the Beef Rendang which was essentially the Cantonese dish 'Ngau Larm' - braised gravy beef with a rich star anise and cassia bark gravy, into which had been added a fiery rempah. Sadly the elements of lemongrass and galangal were overpowered by the non-traditional elements and the chilli left us unable to taste the next course.



For a blow by blow account of the dining see my fellow bloggers accounts of the evening:

Pat, Thanh, Mellie & Dan, Jon, Neil, Elliot and Ed's video.

Perhaps for me it will be the kind of place where, as a local, I will drag friends post-theatre or even after an occasional flick at the cinema there.



I certainly hope others will entertain the idea of entering the dragon's lair of gambling to sample the offering, because Sho with its solid menu of Hawker Food favourites, a 38 seat dining counter, a range of 24 excellent Chinese teas on offer in the salon and spacious dining room, certainly has great potential to be the 'new black' of Melbourne's Asian dining scene. And perhaps even a few gwei lo's palates will be educated in the process?

SHO Noodle Bar and Tea Salon
Located on the gaming floor next to the Maple Room
Crown Entertainment Complex,
8 Whiteman Street, Southbank, Melbourne

Do you know the way to Sunnybrae?

Do you know the way to San Jose?
I've been away so long. I may go wrong and lose my way.
Do you know the way to San Jose?
I’m going back to find some peace of mind in San Jose.

Kisch Tini stood resplendent in a leopard skin turban and matching one piece swimming costume in the shallows of Sorrento front beach. The light bouncing off the water glinted against ropes of gold jewelry nestling in her magnificent bosom and reflected the seascape in her bold framed sunglasses. With her feet sinking into the sand hiding gloriously scarlet toenails, and her jewel encrusted hands planted firmly on her generous hips, the dark tanned skin around her wrists was as wrinkled as an urban road map.

Tonight, Susi, her daughter in-law was making Paprikas. So Nana Tini was hurrying me, her ‘schweetie darlink’ and her ‘beeeeaudi-full grandsons’ out of the water to get across the road to Shirley, the house where I spent my childhood summers surrounded by Austro-Hungarian émigrés who had lost their children, siblings or parents in the Second World War. My not being Hungarian didn’t matter to them. I was, in my own way as alone in the world as they were, and like them, another stray to add into the collective like family, an honorary Magyar.

At Shirley, the dish of Paprikas evoked the fairy tale of the cooking pot that never emptied, that always had enough for whoever asked for a meal. At any time, a jumble of ‘relatives’ would pull up at the white, timber 1920’s beach house with gifts of food – goose or duck fat or livers, sourdough and dark rye bread, Kerueseut (Liptauer), Csabai (Salami), Preserved peppers, foraged or home grown items, pickles, home-made tomato paste, eggs, cheese, Kughelupf (Bundt cake)- whatever they had. And they were always greeted by Susi, with cries of “Can I offer you something to eat Mutsi? Some cake, a toast, something for you?”

For a crowd, Paprikas – Paprika Chicken with sour cream and caraway – served with Nokedli (Spaetzle) or sometimes Rakott Krumpli (Scalloped potatoes) with dill cucumber or zucchini salad was always on the menu. It was our comfort food. Our family fare. Food to be shared by people who did not judge, who loved openly, shouted boisterously at each other, who loved passionately and married many times; food that anchored us in our joys and our sentiments.

Whenever I feel that the world is slipping out from under my feet, I go instinctively to the fridge, pull out paprika paste and begin to make Paprikas. Only then, does the vortex of life’s complications begin to feel less claustrophobic as I fall into the rhythm of a tradition I have inherited from dear and generous souls.

It was with this embedded in my psyche, that on Sunday, when Bruce our waiter at Sunnybrae announced that George Biron was offering Paprikas as one of the main courses, a warm golden happiness shimmered from my heart.


I was already trembling with the excitement of being at Sunnybrae, talking to George, meeting Di, Angela and the rest of the gang, that I felt sure that I would surely spill my food down my front. George said to me “Have a drink, and calm yourself’.


The moment of calm came when Bruce brought to the table potato bread fresh from the wood oven, Sunnybrae’s extra virgin olive oil and a dish of their delicate home grown Alberquina olives. Sinking my teeth into the bread, I realized why Susi had always offered food whenever someone crossed the threshold. Focused on honest flavours, a crowd of jostling thoughts can easily dissipate in a primal and nurturing way.




Sunnybrae for me was like stepping into the home I’d always dreamed of but never had. It has innate warmth, a strength that comes from depth of friendship and an exuberance emanating from both Di and George’s personalities and skills, whether in the garden, artistically or culinary. It made me feel that I have not yet found the things in my heart that should ground me, that I am still a nomad on the path of my own discovery.


Just ninety minutes on the highway from our home, Birregurra was a simple drive, arriving at Sunnybrae in time for Sunday lunch. The meal stretched out over multiple courses with intermittent strolls in the garden, hanging out by the woodfired oven with Kenny the cat and a cuddle with another gorgeous black feline in the veggie patch. By the time we left we had been there six hours. We were of course, the last to leave and as the darkness crept in I went home with a happy heart.


For those who do not know of Sunnybrae, celebrated Chef George Biron and his partner Di quit the rat race for Birregurra many years ago and set up a country cottage with a dining room seating 65 and a purpose built kitchen for the restaurant and cooking classes.





George’s kitchen is charged with positivity. It’s light colourful and airy. Di has created a magnificent collage on one of the doors, there is a wonderful feature painting and the blue and yellow colour scheme in the room lifts the space from utilitarian to being a place to happily create. All hands on deck seem to work fluidly and there is an unspoken trust that sews it together.


Long before the current crop of feted Chef’s were recently anointed as forward thinking by the media for having kitchen gardens and small farms to grow their own fare, George was doing it for himself. Before Maggie Beer and Simon charmed TV audiences with regional fare and before the 100 Mile Café was an idea, George was there. In fact he could be referred to as Melbourne’s Godfather of SOLE.




In the Mittle European tradition he is a forager from way back, grows as much of his own food as possible with the remainder sourced locally within the region and from backyard artisans. Some produce is traded for others or for contra and the provenance of the food is exemplary.


George’s touch has reached many regional venues. Eight years ago they closed seven day operations at Sunnybrae’s restaurant and George instead began to consult, setting up kitchens for other venues, while Di focused on her Art. Time on the road takes its toll and Sunnybrae has such charisma that this year, luckily for us, George and Di decided to reopen. With slight modifications to the space service is open for lunch on Saturday and Sunday. Cooking classes are held on Monday.




So how was the Paprikas? Like everything that day, it was faultless. Two succulent pieces of chicken and their rich paprika sauce scented with caraway sat on the plate with delicate Nokedli. In one side dish, cucumber and peppers formed a classic accompaniment to the meat, along with another small bowl containing sour cream to melt into the sauce.


When Mr Sticky stopped eating, I realised with a sinking heart that as we always share whatever we eat, I was about to have to part with my plate of delicious sentiment midway through eating it. To lose it was indeed a tug, but the rabbit dish he had chosen was also exemplary. A robustly delicious rabbit fillet wrapped in juniper scented minced rabbit, bound with caul is one of George’s signature dishes. I mopped up the sauce with glee.


For full details of what we ate and what it cost, please visit the restaurant section of the forum at SOLE Mama called The Dining Room.





The sum of the courses easily made this the best meal I had eaten in a long time. To enjoy George and Angela’s food at Sunnybrae is to totally understand why it is I bang on about eschewing processed food, eating local produce direct from the producer and why some restaurants disappoint me.


A visit to Sunnybrae is a must for all who wish to grasp how good simple fare can truly be. Here you see ingredients we have forgotten how to cook and techniques that are honest. In fact to eat here is to have a reality check about how modern dining is too often full of hang ups and neuroses. The fresh food used at Sunnybrae is innately flavoursome and George strikes a respectful balance between the use of unusual produce and inspirational culinary execution, free of pretension and faddishness.






And while service front of house in bucolic environs is often forgettable, we had a marvelous time being taken care of by Bruce in the private room overlooking the courtyard and wood oven.


I strongly suggest you do yourself a favour and visit Sunnybrae. We’re planning to visit again soon. Who knows what nostalgic musings it will unearth in me next?

I've got lots of friends in San Jose
Do you know the way to San Jose?
Can't wait to get back to San Jose.

Sunnybrae Restaurant and Cooking School
Corner of Cape Otway Road & Lorne Rd, Birregurra, Australia
Ph: 052 36 2276

The Roti Man

The roti man or bread vendor is quite a common sight in Penang. They are usually on their rounds in the mornings and from tea time (about 4pm), plying their stock-in-trade in a road contraption that resembles a hybrid between a motorcycle and a ‘meat safe’.

During my school days in the afternoons, I would wait patiently for the ‘ting ting ting’ sound (produced by striking a metal cup-like object with an iron rod) which signalled the arrival of the roti man. And when he did arrive, I’d rush out of the house, coins in hand, calling “Roti! Roti!” (Bread! Bread!). That was how the bread man was usually addressed.

My little hands would then frantically try to undo the catch on the little glass framed doors of the ‘meat safe’. The aroma of freshly baked bread, buns, cakes, candies and savoury snacks would waft out tantalisingly.

ADRIAN CHEAH Tourism Penang

A couple of years ago in The Age, Melbourne Restaurant Critic Matt Preston, made this comment about The Roti Man in Middle Park -

'...unless the Roti Man lifts the quality of its service I can see another name being added to the "MIA" list.'

Perhaps he was referring to the fact that since Melbourne visionary, the late Donlevy Fitzpatrick vacated the same venue many years ago - in this expensive inner City Bayside suburb, to pioneer the new groove down the road in St.Kilda - many restaurants have come and gone without as much as a by-your-leave? For me there had always been an air of impermanence about the flash-in-the-pan restaurants that followed there in the wake of someone who customarily initiated the zeitgeist. And they did their dash by not really understanding what it is that the area needed or wanted, that is until The Roti Man arrived.

Two years after the Matt's review, The Roti Man is still there. And I believe that it may well have become 'the modern Indian (he) yearns for'. I wonder if he has visited there of late?

Our encounter with The Roti Man was a spontaneous one. An extraordinarily long takeaway menu had arrived in the mail box around the same time that Mr Stickyfingers was diligently tearing out soon to be expired discount vouchers from the 07/08 Entertainment Book. He noticed The Roti Man and quietly slipped the voucher in his wallet. Meanwhile I was unfurling the extra long, roll folded menu like a snake from a charmer's basket. It featured two goat curries and many other tempting dishes like Kerala Fish and Chicken Chettinadu, not usually found on local Indian Takeaway menus, so I silently made a mental note to order from them in the future.

Then, at 9pm on saturday night after visiting the recuperating Madam Roseleigh (my soon to be Mother Inlaw) Mr Stickyfingers instructed me to look in his wallet and gave me the choice of a number of vouchers hidden within. I chose The Roti Man. I was famished and by that stage really wouldn't have cared if the meal had tasted like a reheated can of Pataks, just like the familiar cheesy hits and memories produced by the many Gold FM equivalents of Indian restaurants in Melbourne.

Stepping in from the cold I noticed that the layout of the restaurant had not changed in years, but it now felt softer and warmer than it had in a long time. The high ceiling was hung with colourful saris and staff buzzed around in saffron shirts. We were cheerfully taken to a table by the fire and it was evident by the rumpled table cloths around us that the place had been packed to the rafters - including the verandah table and the street tables, which still hosted a few happy revelers. A good sign in an area where locals are just as happy to drive to St.Kilda or the city for a meal.

The dine in menu was full of promise with dishes I'd not seen on a menu in Melbourne. I wished that I was with a large group - as a number of tables were - so that I could sample many dishes. Most notably there were at least twenty vegetarian dishes on offer. We chose two curries, a salad, plain rice and two kinds of bread ($3.50-$5), which was overkill.

The delicious wafting smells of curry had me giddy with hunger. We chose a baby goat curry ($16.90) which was tender, spicy, rich with tomato and a coriander based masala, onions and peppers. The thick sauce in this generous portion was ideal for mopping up with bread. Mr Stickyfingers had chosen a combo of garlic and cheese naan which was thick yet fluffy and soft - outstanding. I had chosen a plain paratha which like the naan came in a basket and was so generous as to make our fragrant basmati rice virtually redundant.

The first mouthful of the Paratha whizzed me back in time to the early seventies and of patting out a small ball of the bread dough in my hand. I was only very little and standing on a stool in an Indian neighbour's kitchen in the UK, forming neat little patties with the heel of my palm. Our neighbour then took them and rolled them out with a dowel thin, foot long rolling pin that was thicker at one end. The taste was exactly as I remember it from childhood, a chewy, thin wholemeal bread with a unique fragrance I thought I would never smell again without visiting India. I curled my toes with excitement.

Another dish I thought I would never see in Australia was our salad - Behl Puri ($9.50). It is a crunchy combo mixed through with a tamarind thinned hot mango chutney. The foundation ingredients are crisp puffed rice, fried wide flat noodles, chat masala, puri chips, fresh coriander, onion, cucumber and tomato. The combination of flavours and textures is pure genius. Eaten usually as a snack, it was in this instance a large serve and the ideal foil for the richness of the goat curry.

Mr Stickyfingers meanwhile was frenzily attacking the Parsi Chicken($17), a pale, mild curry from Mumbai. The chicken itself was a little dry, but again the masala was stunning. I think I detected nigella seeds and dried coriander in the mix, the body of the sauce is made with dried apricots, yoghurt and jaggery making it unlike any of the curries Aussies currently identify with as Indian. The three dishes were an ideal combination of complimentary flavours.

I murdered a Kingfisher in the process of devouring our meal. The curries were not muddy or cloying, as I had become accustomed to eating elsewhere. The clarity of flavours meant that I could pinpoint the spices, the seasoning and the nuts and was unable to hold back from tasting mouthful after mouthful. Tearing apart the last pieces of bread and soaking up the sauces, I felt as though I had eaten enough for two. We counted ourselves lucky that we hadn't ordered entrees, though if I had two stomachs, there may have been room to squeeze in the mango or pistachio kulfis or the flambeed gulab jamun or even the chocolate roti.

Unlike Mr Preston, we were not only lulled by the warmth of the room and a table by the fire, we were charmed by our waiter - a witty raconteur - and all the staff were certainly eager to please. They also deftly and gently managed a local drunk who wandered in and was handling a tablecloth in the manner of a Matador. It was a welcome cheerful flicker of warmth that came unexpectedly after what seems like months of disingenuous or offhanded treatment in restaurants. Cheeky wit, efficiency and helpfulness were booted up another notch when I asked about the chefs. As it turns out, all the chefs are Indian, but the front of house is staffed by Malaysians, hence the Roti Man name.

It led to our discussing our plans to visit Malaysia with our waiter and we were then introduced to staff from Kuala Lumpur and Penang. On the backs of dockets, visitor itineraries and dining recommendations were jotted down. A business card was handed over and we were directed that were we to visit a certain restaurant in Penang, we would be taken care of by the sister of one of the wait staff on presenting the card. The phone number of a sibling was proffered in case we needed help or directions whilst in KL. We were overwhelmed by such kindness and it was a timely reminder of the generosity of Malaysian Indians.

I count myself lucky that The Roti Man is a local venue for us. It is indeed the kind of modern Indian restaurant that many curry munchers like myself have been waiting for. As soon as we return from Malaysia I want to introduce a group of my old friends to it so I can selfishly try more dishes - but I know they'll love it too.

The Roti Man

10-12 Armstrong St, Middle Park, Victoria.
Ph. 03 9699 4244

Lunar New Year at Jade Kingdom

The Chinese New Year is celebrated on the first day of the First Moon of the lunar calendar. The corresponding date in the solar calendar varies from as early as January 21st to as late as February 19th. Chinese New Year traditionally signifies turning over a new leaf. To celebrate getting through the past year, to then put the past behind you as look optimistically into the future.

Socially, it is a time for family reunions, and for visiting friends and relatives. This holiday, more than any other Chinese holiday, stresses the importance of family ties. The Chinese New Year's Eve dinner gathering is the most important family occasion of the year. In the days to come the new year is ushered in with a succession of family feasts and the gathering of friends.

I am the first to admit that the Hong Kong Chinese side of my family is eccentric. Lunar New Year is our big annual celebration which usually nullifies Christmas and Birthdays, but this year it passed as more of a whimper. We did not hook up with my parents until the fifth day of the year of The Rat as they were busy with friends. And Dad decided when we did celebrate, we'd be eating Malaysian food. Here goes nothing, I thought.

But I was wrong.

My parents are mad keen Tai Chi enthusiasts and Dad is rapidly becoming a born again Buddhist - go figure? After many years of practice, my Grandfather had reached such a high level of Tai Chi expertise that he could apparently bring on a self induced coma when he was unwell, in order to recover. I suspect my father is aiming to tread the same path and is seeking Buddhist enlightenment. So he has immersed himself in the culture with a group of like minded retirees.

Enter into the picture a Buddhist who according to his friends is quite enlightened, and who magnificently toppled a battle with cancer. This man also happens to be a gifted Baba - Malay Chinese - Chef hailing from Kuala Lumpur. His name is Bill and he met my parents at their Tai Chi group.

So last night, Mr Stickyfingers and I beat a path to the unknown reaches of Heidelberg Heights - getting a little lost enroute - to Bill's unpretentious little venue. Had we not stopped at the traffic lights outside, we would have missed the place entirely. As it happened I noticed another Malaysian restaurant next door that had a roller door firmly shut over the facade and instantly presumed the owners must have gone back to the old country for a holiday. And then my eyes moved across to Jade Kingdom. Bingo!

We were greeted by my parents inside with cries of "Kung Hei Fat Choy!" and were introduced to Bill, the owner and occasional Chef of Jade Kingdom. Resplendent in a blue Batik shirt, he was fit and tanned. This is not the first of his ventures, my parents recall that they were also regulars at his place in Springvale Road, Glen Waverley, years before they met him.

In a sea of wood grain veneer, Melamine and vinyl, a Chinese Dragon puppet sat decorously in a corner. Gaudy modern Chinese paper decorations were festively suspended from the ceiling. At our table my folks were snacking on achar - spicy pickled vegetables and candied walnuts. It was a good start. Both dishes had the required amount of crunch.

Next came Yu Sang also known in Mandarin as Yee Sheng. The name is a Homonym for the Chinese words for good luck and it is a sweet, sour, raw fish salad made up of many elements including daikon, shredded raw yam died to be colourful, carrot, pickled ginger and shallot, coriander, sesame, crispy flat noodles, pomelo, peanuts and sashimi grade salmon. I think this one also featured jellyfish. (If you want to make it yourself here's a recipe)

Now the popularity of this dish hails from its presentation as Lucky Raw Fish Salad in 1963, in a restaurant in Singapore. It is said to have principally originated in Guangzhou, Southern China - aka the rice bowl of China - where raw fish salads were regularly made with fresh water fish such as carp. Although the fashion for the serving of the dish quickly migrated to Malaysia as a feature of New Years celebrations, it never made it to Hong Kong, where the locals considered that the waters were not clean enough to risk eating raw carp.

It is the tradition that the elements that make up the dish be piled up at the table with certain sayings pronounced at each stage. Then all at the table must dip in with their chopsticks to toss it together. It is said to be throwing luck up into the air, which is considered good fortune. It's a bit of contemporary hocus pocus, but there is obviously comfort in certain rituals. I just couldn't wait to dive in and eat it.

The flavours and textures of this dish present as a mouthful of fine citrus sweet and tangy string with the soft sliver of salmon wrapping itself around the palate while nuts and noodle chips provide crunch. It's very satisfying, especially with the slight heat you get from the sticky pickled ginger and shallots.

The next jaw dropping dish was a Fu Pei Goon. Fu Pei is a sheet of tofu which is skimmed off the top of a vat of beancurd and left to dry. Goon means roll, as in Spring Roll (Chun goon). The Fu Pei had been wrapped around fish paste and seaweed and carrot, then deep fried. Sliced on the diagonal, it was served with more pickles and a sweet dipping sauce.

The comfort factor was provided by a huge mound of Sambal Balanchan KangKung. Kang Kung is the Water Convulvulous plant with long leaves and a hollow stem. In this dish it is tossed at high heat in a blend of garlic, dried, fermented shrimp paste and chilli. It is said that a good Malaysian restaurant can be judged by the quality of their Balanchan. This was certainly a ripper!

For me the dish of the night was the Nonya Fish. On the plate, all I could see was lettuce, decorative spring onion shreds and coriander supporting a yellow sauce flecked with red chilli. And then I noticed a fin. A succulent whole fish was buried in this thick, rich tamarind based sauce, made fiery with the chilli. The nose dripping factor was high as we broke into a sweat and chugged down mouthful after mouthful of this slippery sour hot concoction.

As I nursed a bulging stomach, more Tai Chi friends arrived and lurid pink coconut and lychee jellies were served. Dad was spoilt however, with a single serve of cold, sweet snow ear fungus soup with lotus seeds. I slurped the cool jelly happily and wondered whether I would ever eat again after feeling so magnificently full.

Jade Kingdom 233 Waiora Road, Heidelberg Heights, Victoria.
Ph. 03 9458 3188