Monthly Archives: February 2010

pucker up princesses, it’s lambic time

The month’s gone by so quickly! Doesn’t seem so long ago that I was getting blotto with the lads from Kooinda after the pale ale tasting session.

Damn – now I have a good name for trivia – every time I see ‘lambic’, I naturally think of ‘iambic’. Our team should have called ourselves the ‘lambic pentameters’. To my surprise, The Local Taphouse was packed to the rafters.

A few notes about lambic, or sour beer, as I remember them (though you can look it up on wikipedia). Lambics are not brewed in hygienic environments. They need the bacteria around them to cultivate wild and funky yeasts. This is very unlike regular styles of beer where cleanliness is of the utmost importance. If you don’t keep your things clean, they infect the beer and ruin it. Infected homebrew is probably what gives homebrew a bad name!

They still use hops, but instead of fresh, fragrant hops, old ones are used. Hops generally tend to give beer their bitterness. The lambic brew also needs much longer boiling time.

I got in late so didn’t get my pre-Ale Stars tipple. We started off with a kriek.

Sweet and sour cherry goodness! It was pretty unpopular with the lads and they were very vocal about it, though one female Ale Star said it tasted like cough mixture. I can see that, as sometimes cherry has that effect – or at least, those dreadful sweets with super-fake cherry flavouring does. There were hints of almond and marzipan due to the cherry stones. Mmm. I’d personally love to have this with a slice of sour cherry cheesecake. It’s not a beer you can sit down and slug down – I dare say it hardly tasted of beer at all. It’s very desserty.

The second example of the lambic was my least favourite – a gueuze from Brasserie Cantillon. It was like drinking sour apple Warheads (anybody remember those?) but without the sweetness. I know, very odd. I found mine got very bitter towards the end, but apparently I was alone. This is a beer I would never have again, if I could avoid it.

So those were the lambics proper, then onto some Flanders ales, the next of which I found to be the most complex, and I mean positively ‘schizophrenic’ in flavour.

It smells of mahogany. It tasted of sour plummy fruit and tamarind. Others got rhubarb. At one stage I got earth. I think this was the one that got people the rowdiest. T said it reminded him of barleywine, and I agree. Our friend Mel couldn’t finish her glass, she didn’t fancy it at all.

The last one was Brouwerij Liefmans’ goudenband. Is it coincidental that the last one for tasting is the one I remember the least about? Hmm…perhaps it was stuffing my face on all that yummy pizza on offer to the Ale Stars.

Because I didn’t get my customary warm-up drink, Mel shouted me a glass of the Feral Fantapants. Simply hoptastic! Very, very strong but floral hops. I can’t believe how much my palate has developed because dammit I wanted more. Kicks James Squire’s ‘Hop Thief’ to the kerb! I wish you all could smell it (well, those of you that will appreciate it).

Pretty short report, but wanted to get something up not too far from the event happening. Warmest congrats to Guy at the Local on him and his wife expecting. Also, I swear, I was not cheating during trivia, I was Twittering. Turns out one of the hosts of Ale Stars, affectionately known as Shandy, is on Twitter too you can catch him at @shandyaleczar.

I really need to save up for my Ale Star membership! Anyone want to sponsor me? *grin*

city-parma relations at an all-time low

4 Replies

I admit it, it was an awful week. I was in struggle town. So when my mates R and N of parma smash fame decided it was time for parma and drinks afterwards, I dragged my sorry arse out of the house. Yeah, life’s pretty hard when your mates want to eat out with you, eh? *wink*

N and I racked our brains, and I consulted Urbanspoon. Based on a review I saw on Spatula, Spoon and Saturday, I suggested we try Coopers Inn. In all honesty, I can’t really think of many places in the CBD that serve a good parma – I usually think of North Melbourne pubs, Carlton, and the outskirts of the city centre when I think good pub food. Coopers Inn is on Little Lonsdale St, and all of us were planning to get drinks at Little Peninsula which was on the same street. Laziness got the best of me.

The lads chose chicken parmas, N had the bangers and mash, and I somewhat bravely had the slow cooked pork belly. Dared by N, I asked if the parma was bigger than my face (I am a small lass, much to my disappointment). He didn’t bat an eyelid and immediately confirmed that yes indeed, it most certainly was.

R waxed lyrical about the cheese and oregano, but later recanted the parma’s deliciousness on account of it being somewhat dry. T was disappointed in the distinct lack of attention paid to the salad (no dressing, not particularly crisp or fresh), and found his chips too salty. I think the worst dish however was the pork belly, and it pains me to say so.

This could not have been slow cooked unless that meant leeching all the moisture out of the meat – the pork was very dry (I don’t think even my parents have cooked such a dry roast) and the crackling could only be broken once I soaked it in the gravy. As N pointed out, I should have been handed a steak knife. I’ve had some killer pork belly before – most notably at Meshiya (also in the city) where the fat and meat both possess that silken texture as you bite or cut into it. The most recent time I had pork belly was at the Northcote Social Club where they didn’t quite get the crackling right, but the meat was satisfactory. Such a shame as the mash was just heavenly – so velvety and it even had mustard seeds. I finished my entire meal, on account of hunger, it must be admitted.

The beer selection is okay – there is a good choice, and I had the Matilda Bay alpha pale ale which is totally for the hop-lovers. After having this beer, the Fat Yak will taste inferior, I warn you! Overall, the Coopers Inn is a pretty laidback place and reasonably priced. If you want passable pub food, then I would recommend it, but if your taste is more discerning, I suggest you go elsewhere. I’d eat here again, but the search for a really good CBD chicken parma continues.

Thankfully, good tunes and cheap but very drinkable cocktails awaited us all at Little Peninsula, a few blocks away.

pub food on ecstasy

4 Replies

I’m going to be taking a brief break from my Sydney food reviews and focus on Melbourne a bit this week – pubs, specifically. Probably because I’m looking forward to an epic parma date with some good friends of mine in a couple of days.

My parents are ridiculously fussy when it comes to food – the place can’t be too far, the cuisine can’t be too exotic, the serves can’t be too big OR too small – you get the general idea.

Instead of buying them unwanted gifts every Christmastime, I prefer to take them out for dinner, despite my knowing the above. It’s always horribly stressful, but I am stubborn and determined to find places they will like.

I’d heard fantastic things about The Station Hotel in Footscray from fellow EDS writer Ryan, and thought I might take the folks there to spoil them a bit. I’d drive so none of that parking palaver, they could drink etc. All they would have to do is be ready when asked!

So on a fateful Saturday evening, we all set off. I was keen for the parentals to enjoy and was actually pretty nervous.

Mum was none too keen on the menu initially, and flat-out refused to entertain the notion of having an entree, as did Dad. Our lovely waitress dutifully informed us of the specials, and upon her quite passionate recommendation, I chose an entree serve of the Balmain bugs. This special was also available on the evening as a main. My partner had the blue cheese and leek tart.

Bugs of the seafood variety look positively prehistoric, but I’d been eager to try them for years. The meat is not dissimilar to that of, say, prawns or lobster. For such frightening things, they were tender morsels indeed. They came with a rocket salad that I must confess was a little too salty for my liking and liberally splashed with olive oil. I rather love my vegies without salt (yes, scary, I know) so it might be worth pointing out that this could be a personal preference thing, rather than my faulting the kitchen.

I did get a taste of the cheese and leek tart which was just perfect – the filling melted in your mouth immediately and had just the right amount of pungent blue. A stealthy glance noted that the partner thought it fab too: every last crumb was devoured.

Then, to the mains. Partner and I shared the wagyu ‘rostbiff’, cooked medium-rare with bearnaise sauce.

Dad had the pork cutlets, and Mum had an entire flounder to herself – the fish of the day.

Ah sweet triumph. As soon as Mum tried her dish, she declared it to be good and even said so several times without being prompted. My heart was a good deal lighter knowing that she was really enjoying it! Dad, less fussy than Mum heartily tucked into his pork chops. Both parents offered me a taste of their mains. Mum’s fish was cooked perfectly and accompanied by a fragrant salad with parsley and basil which suited it wonderfully. It was a more subtle taste palate to what Dad had, with chilli – just enough for heat, and some good quality chorizo.

The wagyu rostbiff was such a treat, and though initially looked like too little for the two of us, was just right size-wise (cheers again Ryan for that tip!). I think I might have preferred my bearnaise on the side so I could dip cuts of meat into it as desired (the rostbiff was drowning in the sauce). The sides of salad and hand-cut chips were just amazing. All too often they are looked upon as secondary to the meat, but in this case, all three were equal players. I want to know how they get their damned chips so tasty!

The folks were right into the spirit of dining by this stage, and even consented to have afters. Mum chose a traditional bread and butter pudding and Dad took up the opportunity to get reacquainted with some good Bishop Cropwell Stilton. Mum laughed at my child-like glee as I cracked the burnt sugar on my crème brulee (I may have got a little excited, I confess) and the partner had chocolate cake. Pictured below is Dad’s cheese platter, and Mum’s pudding.

Despite the Station Hotel being so far from where I currently live, I’d be eager to make the trek out again to try more things on their menu. The dining room is stylish without being intimidating, and the service was spot-on: attentive, friendly, and genuinely interested in their patrons. It’s expensive for pub fare, but you aren’t paying for standard pub fare: this is impressive pub food worth shelling out for every so often. In fact, am planning to get my folks to take me there for my birthday dinner.

eat, drink, stagger

a very tame lone wolf (formerly in cahoots with riff-raff) who loves to do the above

Monthly Archives: February 2010

pucker up princesses, it’s lambic time

city-parma relations at an all-time low

pub food on ecstasy