Between prepping for my wedding (five weeks to go!), starting a new job and just the endless bustle of life, I’ve let blogging slide. And cooking, for that matter. With little energy and less time to cook anything beyond a boiled egg at the moment (or so it seems), dinners have been assembled, rather than cooked, affairs.
Until this little gem of a recipe, ripped from one of those fantastic UK supplements and courtesy of Yotam Ottolenghi, of Ottolenghi cafe/restaurants in London. Turkey is certainly outside my meat comfort zone, but the concept of a rissole certainly isn’t. Having discovered that turkey is both super-low in fat and cheap, I think I’ll be bringing it into the inner circle. With the addition of the incredible wasabi guacamole (to paraphrase Lorelei Lee, I just love finding new ways to eat avocado), this simple mid-week dinner staple is elevated to something I would happily cook for others. If I could find the time, that is.
Sydney’s North Shore gets such a bad rap. Not exactly the coolest part of the city, it’s not known for the slickest dining scene either. But times, they are a’changing, and coast down Crows Nest’s Willoughby Road or Neutral Bay’s Grosvenor Street, and you’ll see funky eating holes that look more Surry Hills than staid North Shore. It’s been a while since my stomach had led me Over The Bridge, but the lure of Hawthorn, a recent Mosman addition opened by ex-Jonah’s general manager Sean Byrne that promised honest, reliable food and a wine bar seemed reason enough.
For all the flak Mosman cops for the boat shoes and the polo shirts and the snobbery, it seems they know how to do charming. And Hawthorn is everything good about Mosman’s charm. Set in a stripped-back, heritage-listed Federation cottage that looks like Martha Stewart has had a hand in the interiors, the whitewashed floors, period features and potted palms lend a beachy vibe to its classic frame. The well-heeled crowd chatters convivially as Sean flits between tables pouring wine and greeting regulars who smile up at him in the soft candlelight. Thomas, our waiter, is a spit for Daniel Craig (something I’m sure the yummy mummies who, apparently, flock for afternoon tea and scones appreciate) and he’s just as endearing as the surroundings. When he sees us dawdle over the menu (an offering of contemporary classics) he suggests a share plate replete with ricotta-stuffed zucchini flowers (drizzled with pesto so fresh I’m certain the basil has been picked out of the herb garden we can see from the window), a smooth-as-satin pate smeared on crumbly brioche and beautifully briny oysters from Pambula. And I take a trip down memory lane as we tear apart sourdough from St Honore Bakery, where I worked as a carb-obsessed uni student. It’s a promising start, and the recommended wine, a 2006 Mount Cole Shiraz, is equally as impressive. Usually I find Shiraz a little harsh but this full, smokey-soft wine is a revelation.
My linguine is perfectly al dente, and the fat, sweet king prawns and hints of chili and lemon zest ($29) sprinkled among its buttery strands speak of balmy summer nights by the coast (never mind that we’ve come on an unseasonably cold night). The Greek’s portobello mushroom with tallegio and fat polenta chips ($29) is a divine combination of pungent flavours and more-ish textures, with the polenta chips providing a crunchy counterpoint to the silky cheese and mushroom. “Stinky cheese, but really good,” he manages to utter between mouthfuls.
As we’re eating, Sean makes his way over to the table. When we ask him what he’s trying to do at Hawthorn, his answer is simple. ”I wanted to make this feel like somewhere that I’d like to eat myself,” he explains. “It’s not about a novelty factor, its about good, honest food and a place where locals always feel welcome.” Even us non-locals are feeling the love.
707 Military Road Mosman NSW 2088
(02) 9968 4244
www.hawthornmosman.com.au
It’s not often I play tourist in my own city. Weekends away are usually, well, away. But this time, instead of hitting up the usual mini-break suspects, The Greek and I decided to have something of a staycation. Our criteria: wherever we spent the weekend had to be incredibly glamorous, in rolling distance of Felix, where we had reservations for dinner, and have sweeping views of our fine city. And no loads of washing in sight. Enter Kent Street’s Fraser Suites, which became known as The Rockstar Retreat during our stay.
Seriously sleek, the views over Jones Bay from the floor-to-ceiling windows in our mod-luxe suite were gasp worthy – definitely fit for visiting rock royalty. Strutting around the full kitchen and living area with his sunglasses on, it became clear that the room was having a certain effect on The Greek. Meanwhile, I raided the Adore chocolates in our welcome pack while rolling around on the bazillion-thread count sheets, imagining that life could always be so hedonic, and forgetting, momentarily, about Monday. We loved our city break – and I didn’t even have to do any laundry.
Until December 30, 2012, Fraser Suites are offering:
- One nights accommodation for two people in an Executive Studio
- Full Buffet Breakfast for two people in the Mezzanine
- Two 30 minute massages OR Facial Treatment
Firstly, let’s just start by saying Hobart ain’t no city. Its shops are closed on Sundays, you can get around the entire CBD in five minutes flat and it doesn’t even have a Westfield. I always thought I preferred big cities–your Bangkoks, New Yorks and, well, Sydneys. But Hobart’s small-town charm, with its village-like ‘burbs, friendly faces on the footpaths and prices that put Sydney to shame, has cured me of my addiction to the headliners of the world.
From the famous Salamanca Markets (above) to the less well-known spots around town, I’ve put together my picks on where to eat (and what to do between meals) in Hobart in two parts… stay tuned for the best cake shop in town, the festival which stops the city and the tastiest laundromat I’ve ever eaten at.
GARAGISTES, 103 Murray Street
If I could pick just one place to eat in Hobart, this would be it. With an emphasis on local, seasonal, sustainable produce and natural wines, a night out at Garagistes feels like a visit to Mr McGregor’s cool grandson’s farm. Housed in a minimalist space more industrial chic than rustic country charm, its polished-concrete floors and shared tables are packed with crowds who look like they’ve just come from the (superlative, must-see) MONA gallery. This is definitely the cool kid on the block. As for the food, it’s damned good, with plates that are designed to be shared but are simply to good to split. The menu, which eschews your standard entree, mains and desserts categories (instead, going with savoury, cheese and sweets), also does away with familiar ingredients, with buckwheat, cloves, tripe and celeriac just some of the oft-misunderstood food stuffs getting their time in the spotlight. Highlights? The incredible onion dish, which looks and sounds underwhelming, but is quite possibly the tastiest riff on the humble onion I’ve ever tasted. As for the molasses and cherry parfait, forks clashed more than once in the battle to gobble it down. Save your relationship; order two. My iPhone photos hardly do it justice, but that’s what happens when your regular camera breaks (yes, it’s still in insurance no-mans land).
Sashimi of Southern blue-fin tuna and striped trumpeter, green almond vinegar ($25)
Glazed octopus, persimmon puree and mustard seasoning ($14)
Malt-glazed heirloom carrots, almond cream, confit garlic, grains and seeds ($17)
Wagyu bresaola + tartare, whipped egg yolk, crisp shaved potato, winter pickles ($21)
Roasted & pickled onions, cheese broth, salted ricotta, shitaakes, crisp rice
Molasses + cherry parfait, whey caramel mousse, green girl apple ($14)
PIGEONHOLE CAFE, 93 Goulburn Street, West Hobart
Do not stop, to not pass go–head straight to Pigeonhole (and steer clear of the dodgy CBD Gloria Jeans et al) if you’re in need of a decent caffeine hit. This little all-rounder (it seats less than 20) is full of mis-matched charm and kick-arse food. By the time we arrived for a late lunch, the popular panini options (think prosciutto, basil, quince and asiag0) had completely sold out, as locals milled in and out of the kitchen, saying hello to the owners. The Greek ordered the best baked eggs I’ve ever tasted–eggs en cocotte with serrano jamon, soused onions and grana padano ($10.50)–while I opted for a warming potato, garlic and rosemary soup ($10). As we enjoyed our meal, freshly-baked baguettes were hauled from the oven and into the arms of waiting customers. It’s just that kind of place.
BATTERY POINT
Go here for a wander, stay for a snack at the stylish Jackman & McCross. Quite simply, this is my favourite area in Hobart. Just up from Salamanca Place, if ever you wanted to live out a Jane Austen fantasy, this is the place to do it. Georgian architecture, hollyhocks and romantic views certainly do all that they can to get my vote for number one most charming spot in town. Jackman & McCross’ food does not impress quite as much as it’s lovely building, but it’s a nice spot to rest your weary feet. 
TRICYCLE, 77 Salamanca Place
This lo-fi treat of a cafe is a haven from the over-priced tourist traps of Salamanca Place. Tucked away in an arcade, it’s right next door to a little deli where Matthew Evans himself has set up shop with some other gourmet types (don’t miss the amazing Bruny Island cheese). With blue-grass music honky-tonking in the background and quirky touches like sugar in vintage milk bottles and old-fashioned wax straws, Tricycle is just a nice place to while away some time. But we’re here to eat, and that’s just what we do, chowing down on chili beans with avocado, feta rocket and sourdough ($13.5) and baked eggs with spiced tomatos, feta, parsley and sumac and bacon($14). Delicious.
You say tomayto, I say tomato. Or, in this case, if you’re English you’d be adding peppers and coriander to your shopping list, and if you’re American, you’d holler for bell peppers and cilantro. Whatever your lingo, this is a simple, summery seafood salad that’s tasty and easily translated (and apparently satisfies my yen for alliteration). It’s from (the very English) Sophie Dahl’s first cookbook, Miss Dahl’s Voluptuous Delights, which sounds like a title dreamt up when the eponymous model was decidedly more voluptuous. There she appears in its pages, lithe and dreamy; all soft-focus skin and artfully-undone, expensively-blonded tresses. And I can’t help but like her. Maybe it’s because the way she talks about food shows that she still loves it, or maybe it’s because the recipes I’ve tried have produced healthy, honest and downright delicious fare–and this one is no different.
Apparently inspired by a lunch Miss Dahl was treated to in Greece, this is her tribute to the Mediterranean. But to be honest, the coriander felt far more Asian inspired to me. Not that it took anything away from the dish, but next time I’m going to swap the coriander for fresh thyme and add some crumbled feta. In the meantime, this dish delivered when it came to a casual Sunday lunch with the family–just add fresh, crusty bread.
So many of my memories centre around food. The Women’s Weekly party cakes, my grandmother’s birthday linzer tortes, the salad made from tomatoes grown in my father’s veggie patch: when I think about my childhood, my happy thoughts are tied to some kind of culinary experience. I was four when my parents took me to California, and we did everything from visit Disneyland (where I ran away from Winnie the Pooh) to camp at Yosemite National Park under the super-sized sequoia trees (where my father terrified me by pretending to be a bear on the other side of the canvas).
We also visited a strawberry farm, and we have photos which show just how much I enjoyed myself, vivid pink juice covering my chubby hands and freckled face. The story goes that instead of gathering my berries in the basket I was given, I gathered them directly in my mouth. I don’t remember much of that day, except that it was hot, and I was sticky with strawberry juice. And I was very, very happy.
So it was with great glee that I forced The Greek to take a dirt side road with a handmade sign pointing to Hillwood Berry Farm, just out of Launceston. No strawberries, but sweet, sun-warmed raspberries galore–although this time, at least, I was a little more civilised.
But enough of my personal past: like so many places in Launceston, Stillwater Restaurant is steeped in the kind of history that puts my 1980s childhood to shame. Perched on the banks of the Tamar River, and overlooked by Launceston’s number one tourist destination, the Cataract Gorge, it was originally a 1930s flour mill built to feed the city’s burgeoning population. Left to languish, it was bought by the same people who own Black Cow Bistro (who seem to have the monopoly on heritage worthy buildings-cum-eating houses) in 2000. Now it’s a popular spot for locals, and the odd tourist, like us.
We stopped by for a brunch in the sun, surrounded by mothers with small children, a few dogs and a local cycling group. Despite the nearby busy road, it was idyllic. And delicious: my sweet-toothed Greek had the pancakes with apple and cinnamon syrup and lemon mascarpone and vanilla ice cream ($17), which looked like huge, fat, sugar-dusted cigars (but tasted infinitely better) and I opted for the savoury French toast, with house-made hot smoked ocean trout, crème fraiche and crispy capers ($19). Less eggy than the French toast I’m used to, it packed a big flavour punch. Is there anything better than capers matched with fish? Not in my tiny world. Definitely not at Stillwater.
Hillwood Berry Farm
105 Hillwood Rd
Hillwood TAS 7252
(03) 6394 8180
www.hillwoodberryfarm.com.au
Stillwater
Richie’s Mill, Launceston
www.stillwater.net.au
Don’t tell The Greek, who’s an out-and-proud Hobartian, but I fell in head-over-heels in love with Launceston, that upstart up north (and the third oldest city in Australia).
Nestled in a valley, its sweet streets–lined with Georgian mansions, Victorian terraces, the odd Art Deco block and weatherboard Federation houses–meander up hills and down dales. The whole effect is rather like being on a huge movie set, with several period films on the go at once.
It’s also home to some delicious food. Its restauranteurs seem like they take full advantage of the city’s proximity to the Tamar Valley, a food bowl dotted with orchards, vineyards, lavender fields and berry farms. As we ate and drank and wandered our way around, I started imagining myself living in Launceston. My fantasy involved a Georgian cottage with an Aga, chickens and a book deal, and a boyfriend who actually wanted to live the quiet life with me. Oh, well, a girl can dream. In the meantime, I’m already plotting another road trip to revisit some of the highlights.
First stop, Fresh on Charles, a retro-cool vegetarian cafe I wished I could have taken home in my hand luggage. If this place was in Sydney, I’d never leave.
I don’t know about you, but an all-day breakfast menu (never mind a massive Tretchikoff mural) is always a good sign for me. And boy, was it. The poached eggs on cornbread with harissa, avocado, rocket and haloumi ($15) were a well-balanced blend of tangy, sweet and spice. It was a dish, quite frankly, worthy of breakfast, lunch and dinner. The sweet potato hash browns with spinach, mushrooms, relish and parmesan ($16) silenced The Greek for a full ten minutes, which means it must have been good. It was dinner before we got hungry again–and good thing, too, because we had a booking at The Black Cow Bistro, a fancy-pants steakhouse aptly housed in an old Art Deco butchery. The local oysters, Cape Grim beef and cauliflower gratin were simply delicious.
A combination of super-low light and a really, really great wine list means I don’t have any presentable photos from the evening, but trust me–it was good.
Want more Launceston? Stay tuned for a hangover breakfast by the water and a daydreamy visit to a raspberry farm in Part II.
Fresh on Charles
178 Charles St
Launceston
www.freshoncharles.com.au
Black Cow Bistro
70 George St
Launceston
www.blackcowbistro.com.au
When I lived in the UK, I would rail against its near-constant drizzle. Sydney, I would proclaim, does rain properly. It puts on a show with the kind of big wet that stops a city. Now, that’s how you should do rain, I’d say with senseless pride. Well, this week Sydney really showed those Brits, and then some. It’s been the wettest week in something like 60 years, and until a weakened sun showed up again today, I think half the city had begun to wonder whether we’d ever see another clear day. So, I think now’s the time to remind us all that Sydney isn’t always a sodden, grey Gotham. In fact, it was looking like this, not long before The Week It Bucketed Down:
That was my view the crisp winter’s day I hopped aboard a seaplane to be whisked to Jonah’s at Whale Beach. Because that’s how I roll. (You know, when I’m not reheating last night’s leftovers). Jonah’s is one of those iconic Sydney spots that I’ve been longing to go to. Tucked away in the hills that overlook beautiful Whale Beach and out to the Tasman Sea, it was the only roadhouse available on the winding road around the northern beaches peninsula when it opened in the 1920s. These days, it’s a go-to spot for gourmands, thanks to its one-hatted restaurant. If you’re too full to move after your meal, you can stay on in one of their sumptuous rooms. Alas, today was lunch only, but what a magnificent one–the new ring in, head honcho Alfonso Ales (an ex-El Bulli chef) treated us to a taste of his new winter menu.
After an hors d’oeuvres of tender quail wings, I tucked into North Atlantic scallops in “chaud-froid” with apple and celeriac remoulade, caviar, lime-sour cream and a sesame tuile ($30). It was as delicious as its name is long.
The delicate flavours of the Tasmanian salmon with Pernod-fennel custard, sorrel, orange beurre blanc and citrus crisps ($40) were a real testament to Ales’ skill with difficult tastes and textures.
But the piece de resistance was the dessert simply named All About Chocolate ($18). Yes, please! Our lovely waitress presented the plate and proceeded to pour a chocolate confection on another chocolate confection, that was ringed with a chocolate confection. By this point, my brain had stopped firing, so just check out the picture. Helllooooo heavenly Valrhona platter of chocolate delight! And yes, this absolutely tasted as good as it looked. It doesn’t get more chocolatey than this.
And so, with a full heart and a stuffed belly, we boarded the sea plane for the ride back to the city, just as the clouds started gathering. Ah well, we’ll always have Jonah’s. 
Jonah’s
69 Bynya Road
Palm Beach NSW 2108
(02) 9974 5599
www.jonahs.com.au
Lunch & dinner , Recipes
Brown rice stir-fry with kale, almonds, pumpkin, sugar-snap peas and red cabbage
Is it a pilaf? Is it a risotto? No, it’s a stirfry. Sort of. Truth be told, I can’t quite decide how to classify this tasty little dish. What I do know is that this has become a favourite mid-week meal of mine. Why? It’s filling but super-healthy, quick but impressive and perfect for using up those veggies in the crisper. Like most good recipes, its development was a kind of serendipity (like the lady who invented choc-chip cookies when she was trying to make chocolate biscuits. Or something.) I liked the sound of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s quinoa stir-fry with kale, chilli and nuts, but when I got home ready to soak my quinoa, I discovered that pantry moths had gotten there first (seriously, those little bastards are the bane of my life). Brown rice to the rescue! I’ve never even bothered trying the quinoa, that’s how much I like this muddled-up dinner just the way it is.
I’ve made this countless times since that first Tuesday night, and while I’ve settled on my favourite ingredients, I reckon something varies every single time. It’s more like a template, with one crucial key–the soy sauce and lemon combination. I’ve never managed to make a stirfry I’ve been truly happy with, until now–they’ve always been too…well, wet, or soy-saucy, or, even with a foolproof hoisin sauce finisher, not quite right. But this combo has truly been an eye-opener for me, and along with sesame oil, it’s also become a favourite dressing for steamed greens. Hurray! And so, whatever category this recipe technically falls into, and whatever the ingredients, I’m filing it under easy-peasy dinner dishes.
Just say you’re meant to be on a strict diet. To fit into, just say, a wedding dress in, maybe, around seven months. And, hypothetically, you’re meant to be avoiding refined carbs, sugar, alcohol and all the delicious things that make life worth living. So, what would you make for a friend’s mid-week birthday dinner? Well, it’s obvious. A creamy, carb-laden comfort food fest, of course. Der!
It’s amazing how efficiently my inner-justifier works. Yes, you’re meant to be eating healthily, goes the monologue. But it’s Lady Face’s birthday! Lentils aren’t celebratory! There must be cream! Chocolate! Carbs! Because nothing says happy birthday like a big calorie hit. But as unhealthy as this risotto looks, it’s really not that bad. There’s not that much butter or mascarpone or cheese. Not really. Anyway, who cares, it’s delicious. Hopefully you won’t overthink this like I did, because this dish is so damn good, it shouldn’t be hesitated over. Risotto is a bit of a high-maintenance dish–all, look at me, stir me, pay attention to me–but the result of this recipe is both homey and elegant.
It’s from an incredible book that I’m in love with–Vegetarian, by a British chef, Alice Hart. It’s full of gorgeously-shot photos (I’m utterly sucked in by cook-book photography) and simple, healthy (and, ahem, not so healthy) vegetarian recipes (with only a few lentils in sight). In this easy-peasy risotto, the parsnip melts into the stodgy arborio rice, lending it an earthy sweetness that complements the tang of the creamy mascarpone…it’s mouthwatering. And Lady Face loved it. Happy birthday, M.O.H!
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