Food Bloggers as Marketing Puppets | Part 1. Evolution

Photo Marialuisa Wittlin

Warning:

This is a food blog that encourages readers to not only think but to ruminate. This will not be a short post.
There will be two additional posts on similar subjects.
If you want pretty food pictures this isn't your kind of blog. Go directly to Stickifingers instead.

Online food media is a rapidly growing space.  

When I started the Deep Dish Dreams food blog in 2007, the number of food bloggers in Melbourne was sparse. After a meet up at VegOut Community garden - where we shared a meal cooked together in the garden’s wood oven - a core group of us grew into a tight knit community, that when Twitter began to grow tentacles was transferred into ‘The Melbourne Food Mafia’ or ‘Food Twitterati’.

I really enjoyed the interaction of this emerging community because our hearts were in it merely for pleasure. For the most part our blogs were read by friends and each other. There were no financial motivations involved, nor popularity contests, just a genuine sharing of the common interest in topics related to food. I was buoyed that I had found some kindred spirits beyond my family and professional networks.

At that time we bloggers were low on the local media radar. While in the USA, known bloggers were beginning to be refused entry into venues by chefs who felt aggrieved by them and threats of lawsuits were emerging. Back here, we were quietly minding our own business and enjoying each other’s food, company, blog comments and repartee. Just as in a sports or social club, blogging was our mutual hobby. 

After a while, some of the group stopped blogging but still remained in touch. There were some debates between the ‘What I ate or cooked last night’ Bloggers and the amateur ‘Restaurant Review’ bloggers. The Mummy cooks graduated over to new parenting blogger communities and a bunch of the Generation X bloggers bonded over ethical food philosophies, preferring more academic or opinion driven posts. My own blogging style evolved into storytelling and I went on to create other niche blogs too.

Smart phones and Twitter

Since then, the rising popularity of smart phones and Twitter in Australia has significantly changed the food-blogging landscape.

I have read speculation that there are now over eight hundred food blogs in Australia. I see that many of those initially connected to each other using Twitter. It certainly broadened the Melbourne Food Blogging scene, sparking a growth in semi-professional niche review blogs that felt more like magazines in their focus.

Twitter started a rise in physical connections  beyond our mere start up session at VegOut. And as more bloggers came on board we all went on tweet-ups to chew the fat, literally.

Now a number of the blogs also now have associated Facebook pages and some of the Melbourne Food Bloggers have joined a discussion group on Facebook. Food bloggers have increasingly become savvy at driving viewership by using multiple social media platforms, organising events and by appearing in traditional press articles.

 

For me that’s no surprise. It is a natural evolution. The internet is now rich with resources on how to capitalise on RSS and viral sharing tools, which blogging platforms to use, plug-ins, link sharing and how to choose a hosting platform, domain name, hook into smart phone apps etc. There are webcasts and local social media events detailing how bloggers can monetise their hobby, draw readers and get freebies.

The culture of food blogging

In the space of four years, the culture of food blogging in Australia has shifted significantly. I’ve noticed that the content of the newer blogs has a different format. For my part I find the posts of many reflect the global trend to diminished substance, lack of concepts and a starvation of rich language. I recognise that the popularity of this style has resulted from an overall lower attention span by readers in the first world. Some would argue that this is because we are suffering from information overload and media saturation.

In professional writing, this current trend in blogging could be considered an offshoot of the dumbing-down of traditional media – ie. blogging as parallel to tabloid forms of news entertainment. Many newer blogs are flush with more pretty photos than actual opinion or insight, and it is now not unusual to witness people pointing DSLR cameras at their food when dining out to fuel vapid but pretty posts created as soon as they return to their computer. 

For the most part, these blogs are dining diaries and cooking journals, online brag pages if you will. Some merely repost imagery from other blogs; vicarious blogging - a style that has developed in a world where intellectual property rights are increasingly blurred by link sharing.

I myself have also created a photo-centric food blog on Tumblr. It’s an adjunct to this blog, which connects to my Twitter and personal Facebook networks as the main audiences. You’ll see a widget for it in my sidebar. The language is rich but the posts are short. 

Another aspect of the rise of mobile technology influencing blogging and social media, is through photos and instant blogging apps. Most of the images on my Tumblr blog, ‘Stickifingers’, have been taken on an iPhone and the phone is utilised to publish posts. By popular demand, I have also created similar blogs for my clients, as bite sized chunks of visual media to be viewed by time poor fans. 

Puppetry is Trending

In recent years, Food blogging has borne witness to sychophantic behaviour towards chefs. This mirrors the global trend toward entrepreneurial chef as rock-stars and product endorsers. It’s a wave of mass media that now also has an outlet in food blogging. While I feel personally disquieted by this, I do acknowledge that these blogs have their place in society as the generators of hype and publicity for venues. Essentially, they have become puppets in the food marketing machine.

Marketing has also given rise to the food blogs for which most posts are paid for promotions. These blogs also use link farming - online blogger contribution events - as a way of building viewership statistics. This is vital if you want to attract paid promotions, as brands want to monitor the blogger’s reach, influence and effectiveness.

Sadly, on these food blogs, back to back posts seem to be a roll call of sponsored items: from pushing a food product given to the blogger, some cookware or an appliance; a sponsored cookbook review; a PR event; a soft opening, discounted or free meal; sponsored travel; an advertiser created competition, meet the chef, etc. For some this has crept up softly so the question of manipulation by promoters is only just now arising.

When promotional posts are interspersed with link farming recipe swap events, it sends a clear message of the blogger’s motivation. That is, they’re in it for as much free stuff as they can get; it’s an embarrassment of greed. The really ugly side is, that for some it has become competitive accumulation between rival Australian food bloggers, as though those with the most toys ‘wins’.

I’ve witnessed this bring a spot of joviality at the expense of bloggers in marketing circles. In fact some bloggers of this calibre, have been referred to as "Cheap Brand Whores" who will "Fall for Blogger Bribes". It has resulted in companies such as Nuffnang and FoodBuzz jumping in for a slice of the money by wrangling bloggers as a commodity. The blogs are then traded as being willing pawns to the service of selling brands.

To me, these sorts of food blogs lack interest or entertainment. They’re rather like watching hours of poorly written advertisements – no one likes that. I wouldn’t read a food magazine if it were composed solely of ads, so why make a blog like this? 

It has occurred to me that some readers may not have realised what is going on behind the scenes of these blogs, but I also have seen plenty of discussion on twitter deriding this blogging direction. I believe the trend has coincided with the decreased average age of food bloggers and their readers. It may also be a matter of ego or a subconscious desire by a certain type of personality to fill an emotional void.

The millennial generation’s adoption of food blogging is a natural progression, given that the early adopters here were Gen X, but the popularity has gained momentum via the broad and rapid adoption of social media. So it is with this in mind that I feel the growth of food bloggers as ‘Floggers’ of venues, brands, chefs, products and events, may be the result of being naive to the machinations of marketing ploys.

Criticism

With this comes harsh criticism of bloggers from the traditional media for making a poor show at mimicking journalists and for eating into the press junket scene. Admittedly I have become weary of the injured refute from bloggers. Because to some degree, I think that we food bloggers may have left ourselves open to being niggled by jibes, by not clearly staking our ground. 

What do we actually stand for now? For many it is no longer a mere hobby. And for the food bloggers who wish to be considered professional, isn’t it time they behaved as a business and defined their brand values? 

Right now their credibility is brought into question by their willingness to disguise branded selling as candid, amateur posting and they’re dragging the opinions of others down in their wake. And those bloggers who believe that they are deserving of the same public status and remuneration as professional restaurant reviewers, isn’t it time they learnt more about the venue and the industry before posting commentary that could endanger the livelihoods of those in hospitality venues?

I expect that it’s the rapid growth of food blogging that has seen us all lumped together regardless of the style of our weblogs. But I think that will change. It will become evident that there are those for whom blogging is an online journal or amateur review, others who will fall into a commercial stream and some who will tenuously attempt to blend the two. 


Schisms have emerged in our culture. Aussie Food Bloggers, I believe it is time to nail your colours to the mast.

In the next post, Part 2. I look at marketing tricks and branded blogger bribes.

The Fat Duck. Food for Thought

John Malkovich: I have seen a world that NO man should see!  

Craig Schwartz: Really? Because for most people it's a rather enjoyable experience.

          Being John Malkovich, 1999

I was trembling with excitement. The hard earned moment had arrived. A moment that I had dared not dream of had arrived. A moment that I considered had come about from sheer hard work and an ounce of luck.

The hard work had brought me the money to afford this experience and the luck was having actually managed to get my bum on this seat. In fact I was awed that we had managed, among 30,000 other hopefuls a day, to have actually got through to make a reservation at Heston Blumenthal’s The Fat Duck in Bray, Berkshire, UK.

So where do you go from here?  I thought.

Is this where food pretentiousness begins? Will I now be presumed to belong to the particular clique of Foodies that has always annoyed me? The clutch that have always struck me as sycophantic, where famous Chef’s names are dropped with such regularity as if to claim the superiority of the individual over other diners? The one where the list of meals recounted begin to sound like scalps taken in battle? I surely hoped not.

This philosophical thought kicked in around course number eleven at the celebrated restaurant. At the time of dining, The Fat Duck was placed at number one in Britain and number three in the San Pellegrino 50 World’s best restaurants, behind Noma of Denmark and El Bulli in Spain.

It was also number two on Mr Sticki’s list of places to mark his personal half century on the planet. El Bulli was his first choice, but we were unable to secure a seat in the annual email ballot, where you - and a million others - plead in Spanish to reserve a seat at some point during El Bulli’s six month open season.

By comparison it seemed a much more democratic system to secure a table at The Fat Duck. Exactly two months to the day that you hope to attend, you battle with thousands of others for a place among the 40 seats, by phoning the restaurant’s call centre from 10:00am London time. There is a clock on The Fat Duck website that counts down the minutes until lines open. After that you are in the hands of the Telecommunications Gods.

We had planned to be in London for five days. One of those was a Monday when The Fat Duck is closed - leaving us only four chances to make a reservation. After multiple redials over three days, engaged signals and attempts that reached the answering service only to be rejected, we were prepared to face defeat. In fact, had I not prompted the call on the final day Mr Sticki might not have bothered at all.

So, on the final possible day to reserve a seat, Mr Sticki got through 20 seconds before 10:00am  - that’s 7pm in Melbourne - and was yet  again rejected. He continued to redial and incredibly at eight minutes past the hour he got through, securing a booking for our final day in London. Hanging up the phone we jumped for joy around our little home, like a couple of old punks pogo-ing at a Hüska Dü gig.

I think Mr Sticki’s interest in premier league dining possibly stems from certain TV shows and Ferran Adria’s Ell Bulli documentary that we saw at the la Mirada Latin Film Festival. Without exposure to Chefs Ferran Adria (El Bulli) and Heston Blumenthal (The Fat Duck) via film media, I doubt that the suggestion would have been made for either restaurant. And it puts an interesting spin on what you come to expect from the dining experience. It can make for disappointment for some, but I can honestly say that in my case the experience was all that I imagined it would be.

Image via Wikipedia

From what I had read of Heston Blumenthal, my expectations were very high. He is described as driven, a man that channels an enormous energy into whatever he believes in. There have been anger management problems, often seen in the super intelligent, young and bored; issues in Heston that have since been addressed and channeled – one would imagine – creatively.

As a chef he is self taught. As a food scientist he is self taught. A natural lateral thinker, his approach to food is not dissimilar to the thought processes I learnt to become a creative type in the advertising industry. The creative process follows this path: you start with a single unique proposition. Standing back you look at it objectively, break outside the box of traditional perception and you bend that proposition in every direction until a certain clarity is achieved, resulting in either a ground breaking new concept or inspired re-invention.

In the same manner as I do in my profession, he appears to gather other people around him who are able to help flesh out his concepts. While he has the ideas, he hires those with greater knowledge or skill in certain areas, yet with the same passion to create and innovate.

One of his waiters mentioned that there were 51 staff involved back of house at The Fat Duck. I expect this also extends to Heston’s other projects - including The Lab and his pub, The Hinds Head, just metres from the restaurant  - not just the restaurant’s prep kitchen and service. Those numbers have probably swelled since opening his latest venue in London.

Heston appears to have a great thirst for challenges. I imagine that his mind is seldom still. He has described himself as being obsessional, totally immersed at the expense of his family. In that he reminds me of my father, and I wonder if Heston too has some form of genius based autism spectrum condition, like Aspergers Syndrome.

As well as the restaurant, he has been involved in creating menus and dishes for a British hospital. He recently opened a more casually oriented restaurant ‘Dinner by Heston Blumenthal’ in a London Hotel, and has a range of packaged food distributed through Waitrose supermarkets.

Against the odds of apparently dealing with recalcitrant staff and management in front of TV cameras, Heston has also tackled the challenge of reinventing the British road-side diners, Little Chef. The most recent show aired, 'Heston's Mission Impossible' saw Heston reinvent the way the British Military manage food operations, and a range of challenges from getting hospitalised kids to eat nutritious meals and using food science to deliver tasty food to economy class passengers travelling on British Airways.

The man seems always keen to bite off more than most would be able to chew. Such is his nature I suppose. A restless mind moves constantly forward to the next project. In his case it would appear that the previous projects continue to tick over, with his vision intact thanks to his army of collaborators.

Watching the TV show Heston’s Feasts, I imagined that each of Heston’s dishes at The Fat Duck would be playful, conceptual and delicious. Thankfully there was no anticlimax. My assumption was correct. Heston’s ‘thinking outside of the box’ to titillate and stimulate was clearly on show in the line-up of courses that make up his Tasting Menu.

I have often asked myself ‘What is the point of molecular gastronomy in most restaurants?’ At The Fat Duck it is brought into sharp relief as a means to an ends in manifesting a concept. Unlike those chefs that miss the point - by casting with abandon, foams that resemble sputum and pearls that do little to enhance a dish - at The Fat Duck, molecular techniques are neither used faddishly nor fashionably. It’s a tool used to recreate Heston’s imagination of an event.

Eating at The Fat Duck is a dining experience that goes well beyond merely eating something delicious. I felt as though I was living some of the more poignant moments in his life, portrayed by a tableau of food. So the tricks, for which he is notorious, seemed to just blend seamlessly into the whole idea of each dish.

And the venue itself offers no distraction from the food. The small dining room has no outlook onto the picturesque olde worlde village surrounds, yet despite being low ceilinged it is bright, white and convivial. Exposed traditional oak beams frame the space and an incongruous modern sculptural glass room divider serves to shelter diners from gusty blasts that may emanate from the door opening onto the street.

Starched linen and simple table décor meant that the diner’s focus was expressly on the food. In fact all there was to distract us was the view of other diners - giving one a preview of the dishes to come.

We attended a lunch service. While food allergies can be accommodated, there is no choice to the meals other than an optional addition of a cheese course. While admiring the cheese trolley with lust, we were aware that we did not have the gastrointestinal fortitude to include it in our repast.

Around us there were gatherings of a corporate nature, a family with adult children, a woman and her nine year old daughter, sixty-somethings gastronauts, a young Asian couple, and in the centre of the room, Mr Sticky and I. At most tables there was at least one camera recording the event.

Yes cameras. Why? Because it’s a milestone - who wouldn’t want to capture for posterity their meal at The Fat Duck?

Five hours after the commencement of our meal, on our way back to Maidenhead train station, our cab driver told us that recently, some of his passengers came away disappointed that some of the most famous dishes were no longer on the menu. For example, the famed egg and bacon ice cream is no longer there – the dish of liquid nitrogen frozen scrambled eggs.  

The Fat Duck could probably get away with serving the same menu for the next five years, but why would you? To the enquiring and creative mind, repetition is soul destroying. If there is an opportunity to spread the wings, then take me there. I’m all for it.

Famous dishes not-withstanding, the hallmark techniques sighted in Heston’s TV shows are there. Between the layers of textures, flavours and ingredients are influences that have come from the best of many cultures. Being half Asian I was reminded of many concepts I grew up with, fused with those of other cultures. That the ingredients are superior however is to be taken for granted, with the exception of unpasteurised butter there was no mention of the source of the ingredients. Provenance is not the selling point here, ideas are.

For those with expectations of trickery, the procession of dishes served are accompanied by the anticipated Heston peculiar add-ons such as liquid nitrogen treats produced at the table, atomizers of evocative aromas, sounds to be listened to on headphones and breath freshener style gelatin flavor strips to open the palate, all found a place in the experience.

Yes, it was truly a unique experience.

While it involved food and I felt full upon eating it, I shall not remember it as a meal. For me, it was something akin to the concept of the film ‘Being John Malkovich’ where climbing into a cavity in a space between the floors of a building, you enter John Malkovich’s mind. You see the world through his eyes.

Through Heston’s eyes you visit moments in his memory, transmitted into your mind through edible art. Sometimes you may even add your own recollections to the memory and find yourself transported to a further level. The foie gras course took me back to my own particular childhood woodlands memory, the beach course stirred unique memories in both Mr and I, and all the while we were being toyed with in a delightful way.

My deduction is that The Fat Duck restaurant is an art installation. The back of house team that spans cooks, chefs and scientists, and also the floor staff, ensure that you and 40 others are seamlessly bound in a deeply sensory experience for four hours. The food is the vehicle that lends itself to an experience that Heston wishes to share with you. It tells a story, paints a picture and stimulates new thoughts from within you.

I felt privileged to have had the opportunity to take in this adventure. It may be the first and last time I dine at such a prestigious establishment. But the realization that I truly have a fortunate life is not taken lightly, and my time at The Fat Duck will not easily be forgotten.

I had considered a second blog post that discussed the content of the meal blow by blow. But if you thought this post was long, that would have been ten times longer. So I will upload images of each course to my Tumblr gastroporn site, Stickifingers instead. I will tag them fatduck50. Each image will include a description and my thoughts. It will be far more digestible as bite sized degustation portions.

The Fat Duck

High Street, Bray, MAIDENHEAD, Berkshire SL6 2AQ| United Kingdom | +44 1628 580333 ‎| 

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Stanley deserves a laurel

 

Ollie: "Every cloud has a silver lining."
Stan: "That's right. Any bird can build a nest but it isn't everyone that can lay an egg."

Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy console a devious Lola.

I love a road trip. They usually turn up something random or a spontaneous revelation. And then there are the locals who eye you with suspicion as they park a heaving plate of God-knows-what in front of you. Love it.

Some years ago I found that Mr Sticki's country raised nephews grew up refusing to eat vegetables. I was shocked. They grew up in a part of country Victoria known for fruit and vegetable production, so there were plenty of opportunities to get into good food.

Then, in their teens, they were employed by the local supermarket. In order to work on the coveted check outs they found themselves in need of being able to identify all manner of vegetables. But they were bereft of such knowledge.

And the reality is that this is not uncommon in Australian regional towns today. In our most bucolic settings, most kids are not rosy cheeked from the benefits of magnificent fresh local produce. They prefer the tinned, commercially packaged nastiness that appears in many regional pub bistros.




There's a pervading attitude in the country that any packaged or convenience food offering from the city is preferential to rural produce. And yet when we city folk spend a few hours in the car destined for a holiday or day trip, we conversely expect to be rolling in luscious local food wonders, fresh from the producers.

So when I think of casual eating in the countryside, I hope for local regional produce, artisan goods, friendly service and simple convivial surrounds.

But that's my own particular fantasy bush escape.

We found it exists in France, but rarely does a regional Australian venue deliver such things. I'm not talking about über fine dining and experimental dishes that borrow from molecular cuisine. I know those experiences exist at the far end of a four hour drive.

What I hope for seems to crop up more often in the city. In places like South Melbourne's The Rising Sun Hotel where Ron O'Bryan is working his magic with farmer direct produce. There are country exceptions of course. The Stanley Pub, just outside Beechworth, is one of them.

My interest in this little pub was piqued by Brewer's Wife's post on her dining experience there. She mentioned lunch at The Stanley Pub showing an image of a pie on a fashionably long plate alongside a stretched limousine smear of mashed potato. The pie humorously appeared to have pretentions to fine dining. But rather than laugh, her verdict was that it was delicious and the venue pleasing.

So on a visit to Beechworth we made a detour to the tiny, historic hotel and found it to be cutely crouching under pretty wisteria vines beside a generous beer garden, function space and accommodation. As we pulled up, two scruffy middle aged men were muttering darkly, smoking cigarettes on the doorstep. Not knowing what to make of that, I hoped for the best.

We entered a brightly lit front bar featuring some wonderful artisan joinery and a well used dart board. To the right, the softly lit bistro emerged as a converted outdoor space, equipped with a JetMaster fireplace and in one corner, a wood fired oven.

Traditional French bistro style bare tables and starched linen napkins were set for about thirty seats. We were the last to arrive of eleven diners there that night. Service was smoothly taken care of by the owner and pedigreed Sommelier, Shane Harris.

It later emerged that Shane, his wife Annemarie and chef Shauna Stockwell were veterans of Sydney high-end dining venues, with notches in their various hospitable belts that include Testsuya's, MG Garage and Pier, then later in this region north east Victorian area with Michael Ryan, pre Provenance, at Range.

As we settled in I breathed a deep sigh of relief. The menu selection was admirably small, concise and dotted with local produce; likewise, the wine list. Respect.

The dishes had classical leanings. I found it tough to make a decision on which to choose. An entree of rabbit and duck rillettes with peach chutney, beckoned. Oysters shucked to order with a Japanese dressing or zucchini flowers wistfully called to me.

Main courses featured the safe option of steak frites, but also skate, gnocchi and poussin. A side salad of figs, rocket, local walnuts and blue cheese sounded like an ideal lunch dish, the potatoes sounded heavenly too, but we chose the comforting seasonal vegetable dish of wilted spinach with kaiserfleisch.

Four mains arrived at the table beside us. Two languished unattended, a large portion of poussin and the steak - two pieces topped with butter and a mound of green beans - classically served with obvious care.

A diner scuttled to the public bar beckoning to the two men who had been standing on the doorstep when we arrived. "You know your meals are here?" She said. Affirmative was the dismissive response. She returned to their table to eat.

After a time the men ambled into the bistro carrying the bowl of nuts they had been eating at the bar. "That looks a bit fancy", said one of the men with a heavy European accent.

"What gives?" Said Mr Sticki with a bemused smirk, "Looks as though those men have been dragged here against their will." They did indeed. And as soon as the mains were consumed, they returned to the bar with their bowl of nuts and fresh beers. The women continued on, shared a dessert and left without the men.

It was the sight of those main courses that made me realize three courses would be impossible for me to ingest. And I wanted the Tarte Tatin for dessert. So taking a mouthful of the delicious local Beechworth cider, I resolved to have two entrees and a glass of local Sangiovese

On the oval plate dotted with saucy whorls sat a snowy bavarois of local chevre that was earthy in flavour and silky in the mouth. The small mound of citrus and baby beets sat atop a disc of red jelly. The piquancy of that mound challenged the goaty creaminess and at times rendered it into a sheepish complement.

Mr Sticki's choice was a special of seared scallops. Cooked as they should be, still slightly translucent inside, four discs of roe-less scallop dressed in micro-herbs, squatted atop a bed of hoummus like four pretty girls on a picnic rug. A mirepoix of tomato with vaguely Middle Eastern flavours transformed the clean, sweetness of the scallops and rug of hummous into a flying carpet ride to another part of the world.

Next, my carpaccio of peppered venison was a floral textile. Like the circle skirt of a rockabilly sweetheart it was a sweep of burgundy checked with blue cheese cream and scattered with a web of petals. The skirt had a seared edge and a sticky mouth feel that launched a rich combination of tastes. Deeply satisfying and a good follow up to the bavarois the blue cheese brought an unexpectedly positive dimension to a flavor profile accented with sharp, hot pepper.

Three young women - local friends of Tim Witherow the Sous Chef - were being gently and capably guided through dining and wine choices by Shane. A big night out for a birthday, choices were made with careful consideration that they were about to embark on something truly special. I felt inspired by their anticipation and enthusiasm. Not a scrap of pretension entered their dialogue, such refreshing behaviour in the face of their city counterparts.

I gazed across the table at my beloved. Delicately chewing bones, Mr Sticki contemplated his serve of poussin with intensity. He seemed carried away by the moment. Golden pieces of bird lolled in the shallows of a thickened, clear braising liquor. A flotsam of herbs drifted from the sauce to embrace baby leeks, potatoes and shallots. It all looked so simple, but once I tried some for myself I too was plunged headlong into a pool of richness. This was a dish that stroked your hair and tucked you into bed with its nurturing gentleness.



After a rest, we moved on to dessert. Shane introduced us to a taste of the wonderful local biodynamic Pennyweight Gold. A lush sticky fortified of ripe white grapes, fortified with brandy spirit, and aged for several years in old oak hogs head barrels. It was created by one of the famous Rutherglen Morris clan, who have been producing excellent fortified wines for 150 years. Stephen Morris started Pennyweight Winery in 1982, producing biodynamic, lower alcohol wines in Beechworth and we stopped by the cellar door the following day.

Shauna's tarte tatin was everything I had hoped for. Made with apples grown mere kilometers from the front door of the pub and plumbing the depth of buttery caramelisation I found it difficult to part with when the time came to swap with Mr Sticki. None the less, the pain perdu (French Toast) was also a marvel. Again featuring a local product – figs poached in muscat with fig ice cream.

The night had me buzzing with the excitement of finding a country venue that lived up to my dream. As we drove down the pitch dark road to our Beechworth accommodation, I was gushing with admiration. I'm all for tree-changers following their passion in a rural setting. And I always hope that their efforts might trickle into the mind-set of the locals and the education of the palates of future generations. Here's to more of that in the future and to less frozen chicken parmigianas shipped from factories in the city to country pubs.

The Stanley Pub

Myrtleford-Stanley Road, Stanley, Victoria, Australia

|  03 5728 6502  |  F: 03 5728 6602  |
 info@thestanley.com.au   |  Facebook  

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By Dani Valent in The Sunday Age M magazine, 15 May 2011

Hungry for food porn

A Preview of one of my Stickifingers Tumblr pages

It's been a while between posts. And that's because I now have a foot in Social Media as a career which includes also writing blogs professionally. I'm very active with multiple accounts on Tumblr, Twitter, Flickr, Delicious, Digg, Wordpress, Facebook, YouTube, Wikipedia, and other social platforms. It's all in a day's work now.

At The Fat Duck

Recently some of my online followers asked to see more of my food porn. So I've set up a Tumblr micro blog to facilitate this. You see, I take a lot of food photos. If you go out to eat with my family, increasingly everyone is taking snaps of the food. So it makes sense to share some of them. As this blog is a place where I think out loud, think of the Stickifingers Tumblr as seeing food through my eyes. And naturally my Stickifingers Twitter feed is all food banter.

The Tumblr posts also are posted through to Twitter so if you don't want to use RSS to keep track of new posts, they'll show up there too. And my personal friends get to see them through my private facebook account.

A Brussels Friterie featuring fried cheese & frites

The shots over at the Stickifingers Tumblr are quite random. There are a mix of homecooked efforts and general food photos. One moment you'll be seeing what we ate for breakfast, then snaps taken on day two of the opening of St.Ali's Mo Pho, next there is the Food Bloggers dinner at Steer, chicken rice in Singapore and there are also food photos taken in Brussels, Vietnam, London, Luang Prabang,  plus food photo's from Paris' Bastille outdoor market.

It's a visual diary. It's a place where you can see some of my sustainable food efforts, meals dining out and adventures in search of more food knowledge.

The layout is like a pinboard. Each post looks like a card and can be flipped over for more details by clicking on the information icons. You can also view them individually by clicking on the arrow button in the top right hand corner of each post, and from there share them or 'like' them. They can be viewed randomly, in sequential order or by their tags.

Anyway, if you pay me a visit there, I really hope you enjoy what you see. I think of it as revealing another layer of my food persona.

Rude food in Bruges

Check out Stickifingers here

Bake a difference at Christmas

'Our vision is to see a fairer Australia
by enabling people in need to find pathways to a better life'

MISSION AUSTRALIA

You squirm and say, 'It's the thought that counts' when confronted with an odd, unwanted present - don't you? Yes. It's the gracious retort.

The best way to avoid hearing that yourself is to give delicious homemade gifts. They never get that uncomfortable response. You see, while it is nice to make a gesture, I've seen that the thought is not in the giving, but in the thoughtful choice or in the preparation of the gift. A delectable present you've made yourself will usually be received with a "Oh yum! Thanks!"

So every year I cook and bake Christmas gifts. I do it because it comes from the heart. It's more personal, a piece of me going to those that I cherish. The gifts are unique a very special Christmas gift. Homemade gifts can also save money, so the difference of what I might save by not buying my gifts, goes to charity so that I share my good fortune beyond my loved ones.

This post coincides with my hope to raise awareness for Mission Australia, a charity who is very active in Australian communities. They help disadvantaged families, grandparents who have primary care of their grandchildren, the homeless. They also do great work to assist young people to stay at school or deal with drug and alcohol dependency. Basically they give a caring hand and untiring support to those less fortunate than ourselves.

I have written this post as part of 'Bake a Difference' - a promotion sponsored by CSR Sugar to raise awareness for Mission Australia. It's their aim to encourage all of us to spare some money for the cause. In return for a donation to the Bake a Difference fundraiser, CSR will match our donations doubling the money raised.

Bloggers can join in to raise awareness by posting a recipe and registering via Penny's Jeroxie blog. CSR will send each participant who registers, a special thank you pack.

I strongly urge everyone to share their good fortune by pledging some money to Bake a Difference. Even a small amount will make a difference to someone, especially as it will be doubled by CSR. While naturally I support their idea that we should give homemade gifts and save money in order to donate, you needn't bake. The important thing is to share the joy by donating. And CSR have popped a gift tag generator on their donation site, which could save you even more money this year, whilst letting others know that you are supporting Mission Australia.

If you're looking for ideas, some of the homemade gifts I have made in the past have included little jars of creamy free range egg mayonnaise, dijonnaise, vinaigrette, ginger and macadamia brownies, tomato relish, lemon oil, orange shortbread, window biscuit decorations, mini Christmas cakes, choc-nut clusters and mini buckets of mixed cookies. Just choose something that you can make in bulk that's simple to do. You'll find that there are a bunch of suggestions on the CSR website and Facebook page.

When it's homemade, your gifts needn't be large and the packaging of it generally doesn't require much wrapping. I reuse old jars, pack sweet things in glasses bought at the $2 shop or find quirky containers - that I then wrap simply in plain cellophane.

I use baskets found in op shops or buy coloured paper takeaway containers at Spotlight. All they need is to be tied with a ribbon and a gift tag. They look cute and I love that by avoiding wrapping paper, I save a few trees in the process.

While homemade will save you money, it is also better for the planet. These days items that are handcrafted have become the new status symbols, as each piece is unique. My gifts are always enjoyed and usually gobbled down quickly. The one's I've to given colleagues have rarely made it home, as they are munched over the course of the working day.

So this year, instead of wearing yourself out, frustratingly shopping for gifts by traipsing around malls, spend half a day in the kitchen making something with love. Have a heart and spread the word about Mission Australia. Please spare them some money and treat your loved ones to a personally made gift.

Thank you and Merry Christmas.

This year's gift from me:

Salted butter caramel chocolate slice

You'll need a 18x28 cm rigid sided Silicon baking tray or a traditional slab pan

BASE
100g dark chocolate couverture - I use Lindt, but regular cooking chocolate is fine
100g unsalted butter brought to room temperature
110g caster sugar - I used CSR raw Caster sugar
1 gently whisked free range egg
225g plain flour
30g cocoa or drinking chocolate

TOPPING
300g flaked almonds
125ml honey - I used Walkabout Apiaries honey
Juice of half a small lemon
100g salted butter
100g brown sugar or Demerara sugar for richer caramel
1tsp vanilla essence or Heilala vanilla syrup
2tbs cream - I use locally produced Schulz organic cream
Roughly ground rock salt for garnishing


Preheat oven to 180 degrees centigrade. If you're using a traditional pan, grease and line with silicon baking paper.

Melt chocolate until smooth in a bowl suspended over a simmering saucepan of water. If the melted chocolate is a bit stiff - and not runny - stir in a teaspoon of warm water to loosen it.

Cream butter and sugar then add the chocolate and the egg to make a rich batter. Then sift in the flour and the cocoa and stir them in well.

Press the chocolate mix into your baking tray. I use a broad plastic scraper to help level it out. Bake for 15minute, or until it feels firm when you press the surface. Take it out of oven and if the top is uneven, press down the surface with a metal serving spoon. Leave it in the tray, cooling it on a  rack for 10minutes.

For the topping, melt all the ingredients except the almonds and cream in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Then remove the pan from the heat and stir in the cream until it is combined. Spread the almonds generously and evenly over the surface of the base.

Pour the caramel evenly over the top. Sprinkle the surface lightly with a little salt and place the tray back into the oven for 20 minutes. By this stake your home will smell divine. Allow the slice to cool before removing it from the tray, slicing into squares or fingers. It's quite a rich treat, so please go easy on the eating!

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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

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