Category Archives: eatie-foodies dining out

good times, good mates

A while back, I used to live in North Melbourne. I really loved it but due to health issues had to sponge off the ‘rents back in suburbia and we all know how Wordsworth feels about that.

I hadn’t seen a good fellow music school comrade-in-arms for quite some time and we decided to catch up. He’d remembered that the Town Hall Hotel on Errol Street was a great pub (still is, if you ask me) and so we decided to meet up for a casual pub meal.

the lovely sign

It hadn’t changed much – everything I loved about it was still there – the red-lit back dining room, the usual pub food suspects, the rad barman with the trucker cap and geeky glasses, the great rock music.

Dave deviated away from his normal ‘roo (which I highly recommend) and went the good ol’ faithful chicken parma. In fact, this is the pub that broke my chicken parma virginity. God, that was in…2007? Pretty embarrassing and very unAustralian. Don’t worry, I’m all assimilated now: I know what the baggy green cap is famous for.

faithful chicken parma

Embarrassingly for me, my body (body yes, not just tummy) is going through the stage where it’s wanting to expel its contents so no rich food for me, pout. It’s a bit irritating given that the body still wants to expel its contents even when there is nothing to expel. I suspect that I may actually be from the Elizabethan times and my four humours are out of whack or I have a sizeable amount of black bile. To be fair, the fairly constant nausea and/or vomiting is causing my levels of black bile to rise, duh. Thanks arsehole body.

vegetarian shepherd's pie, in medias res

The vegie shepherd’s pie was freaking delish, but of course I filled up on bread beforehand. Rookie-foodie mistake. Sadly, the pie conquered me. ‘Fess up, guys, why is your bread so damn good? I suspect they put mash potato in it but maybe I should one day just bloody ask.

beautiful bread baked on premises: what is their secret?!

Despite that, Dave and I were still considering the crumble of the day to share – till one of the staff members stuck a “N/A” sticker on it. “Nooooo!” I ejaculated, and said “I shake my fist at you, sir!” (said shaking of fist was performed – Dave can confirm this). His deft reply was “I quake in my boots.” Well played, sir.

After taking what was a humiliating amount of time to finish a pot of Coopers’ Pale Ale (oh the shame), both Dave and I had a soft drink before hitting the road.

Errol Street, I’ve really missed you. And crumble, you will be mine, oh yes. You will be mine.

Town Hall Hotel on Urbanspoon

heading south to NorthSouth

Our mate Lindsey is an epic foodie and had mentioned that he really liked Ron O’Bryan’s food when he was head chef at Church St Enoteca. I’d never eaten there but when we found out that Ron would be cheffing at a place called NorthSouth*, an expedition was proposed (though he wasn’t in on the night we dined). I was going to joke about what an inconvenience crossing the river is but who am I kidding: living in suburbia is inconvenient.

Incidentally, I was always rather fond of the insinuation that Wordsworth liked and romanticised suburbia because it afforded him the pleasure of playing with himself whilst locked up in his shed, free from interruption. True story.

Sorry about the rad but inappropriate literary trivia. Can’t help it.

NorthSouth is located in South Yarra. Whilst driving past it the other day, I noticed that they also have their Twitter username proudly emblazoned upon their window. Yea!

To start with, the six of us shared saffron and fontina arancini and the selection of artisan cured meats and salumi with hand-rolled grissini. Yea for cornichons and mustard on the latter!

saffron and fontina arancini

artisan cured meats & salumi, hand-rolled grissini

After an attentive staff member came out to ask if there were any dietary issues they needed to note, these beauties appeared in front of us – pea soup. Hit the spot given we were dining on a dreary, rainy day.

Alissa gave me much food envy by ordering the crisp fried zucchini flowers filled with marinated feta, tomato ragout, lemon mayo which looked just perfect. The batter looks like a mere hint!

To follow, she went with a special on the night of roasted king brown mushroom, new season asparagus, woodside goats curd and aged balsamic.

By stark contrast, Colin beefed it up and began with a beef tartare with harissa aioli and handcut chips – one of the prettiest dishes out of the ones we chose. He seemed fairly enthusiastic for its taste too.

As if that wasn’t enough…he went for the classic steak for his main too.

Given that I had a lot of the cured meat at the beginning and considered that a starter, I chose the humble spaghetti carbonara. It’s a bit of a comfort dish. This rendition had a beautiful poached egg in the middle. Overall, it was a touch too salty for me but in fairness, I don’t tend to like a lot of salt in things so that aside, I’d still recommend it.

Suz also chose a pasta main – the penne with broccolini, chilli, lemon, anchovies and pangrattato. The wise lass (ie. not fat bastard like the rest of us, hehehe) chose not to order an entree.

Both Lindsey and Tristan got the special braised rabbit leg and spring vegetables risotto offered which didn’t quite live up to expectations. The general consensus seemed to be that it has a little too much liquid – perhaps it was more ragout-like?

While Tristan had grazed on arancini as an entree, Lindsey got the semolina dusted calamari, endive, fennel, almond & parsley salad which he seemed chuffed about.

All of us had dessert. It’s interesting to note that while the desserts offered seemed very typical, they all had special twists to make them memorable. For example, there was a pear frangipane tart with creme anglaise – scented with star anise.

Then the good old vanilla bean-flecked pannacotta – with grated Granny Smith apple, and apple and cinnamon granita.

Lastly, a creme brulee – of raspberry and white chocolate. Should have got a shot of this in medias res, come to think of it!

NorthSouth offers some good staple dishes (this is snobbily based on the assumption you live in Melbourne and are all cosmopolitan-like…) and does them well, largely with a touch of finesse. The service is excellent it feels equally at home as a place to have a casual coffee or have a special meal with fussy Asian parents (I have mine in mind!). The menu changes with the seasons so there may very well be completely different offerings to what we ate on this occasion.

However, it is their breakfasts that are currently the buzz: recently they even had a breakfast degustation. Once I work out my ratshit sleeping pattern, I can’t wait to return and sample said wonderful breakfasts some of which is detailed inĀ Claire’s appetite-whetting blog post!

NorthSouth Eatery on Urbanspoon

NB. Ron is no longer at NorthSouth, so we all missed him, dagnabbit

the food that would be king

Laksa is like eating a hug.

That’s what I said to Jourdan and Tristan after we skived !!! (yes, the band, not an actual trio of exclamation marks) at the Laneway Festival. Yeah, I know, bad form, eh? Personally, I got my money’s worth seeing the lead singer from Les Savy Fav jumping into the Maribyrnong (river, yes) and drinking said river water from his shoe. Gross.

Les Savy Fav at Laneway Festival Melb by Carole Whitehead

(seriously ace photo of said band’s frontman kindly supplied by that talented @caztheturtle lass)

As Ali G would say, I digest. Mrs Malaprop and Sheridan would be proud.

Back to the food. The three of us were a bit cold, tired and totally needing sustenance and the Beatbox Shroom burger gorged down at epic speeds many hours before didn’t quite hit the spot (more on that one day). Given that we were in pho town (Laneway Festival being in Foo-tas-cray, bless Franco Cozzo), soup noodles were suggested as post-festival nosh.

To be honest, I’m not quite sure how we ended up wanting pho but eating chicken curry laksa at Laksa King in Flemington. It may have had something to do with being able to confirm that Laksa King would definitely be open.

First up, I know there is much debate about how Laksa King used to be ace till it moved rah rah rah, but I wouldn’t know because I never went then. Listening to people rant about how ace Laksa King of old is, is like reading The Age’s ‘Green Guide’ letters from the people who preferred The Bill before it went all American-soapy. I loved old-school The Bill but it ain’t coming back. Move on, people.

So (sadly, some might say), my review is based on post-move Laksa King. I readily admit that my Malaysian palate is very much in training, but I dig Laksa King. The chicken curry laksa was hearty though could have done with a bit more chilli heat and the broth seemed lacking in richness? It’s a little hard to explain, but it was like the flavours weren’t as deep as they could have been. It was good (lots of chicken and great tofu), but not outstanding. All three of us had it. It seemed a good staple to try.

chicken curry laksa

However, the assam laksa I had the first time I visited with Alex and Jillian was freaking amazing. Everything tasted fresh, sour and so alive. It made the one I had at Chai – Eat Like Malaysian (which I did like too) seem quite grey in comparison. It was Jillian who recommended I try the assam laksa on my virgin visit and as she’s native to Malaysia, it would have been stupid not to listen.

I have since heard that there are better assam laksas out there (to be hunted out at a later date, for certain!). They better be gravity-defying…

assam laksa

Other things experienced at this restaurant include lobak. Tristan had ordered this pre-chicken curry laksa, bottomless pit that he is. We all got to taste and despite my only having lobak on one occasion prior, this wasn’t amazeballs.

lobak?

I was pretty shocked at the notion that they didn’t have hot teh tarik (seriously, why don’t they?!) and ordered some cold approximation of said beverage. Tristan got some soy milk, eager to evoke fond memories of the same drink in Hong Kong.

soy milk drink

It gets a bit old being that arsehole tourist who says x is so much better in <insert destination newly travelled to here>, but yeah, both me and T were.

Flemington seems to have quite the nook of Malaysian restaurants, all of which I’m keen to further explore. As someone who readily admits not being informed on its culinary authenticity, I’m a fan of Laksa King – it’s cheap, casual, friendly and has a good range of food on the menu. It’s quite stylish inside too.

Laksa King on Urbanspoon