Author Archives: tristan

barista stalker

I’m not a stalker. Seriously. I mean sure, I seem to be following Courtney of Cup of Truth fame around, popping up at cafés he’s working at. I assure you appearances can be deceiving. You believe me, right?

But let’s jump back in time a bit, before I outed myself as a faux barista stalker.

When I train in — usually when I’ve skivved from riding my bicycle — I pop into Cup of Truth. As mentioned in an earlier post, it is the best place to get a coffee within the vicinity of Flinders St Station, hands down. Aside from the quality coffee and the appalling jokes, I also enjoy swapping coffee goss with Courtney and Verity. One such day Courtney mentioned Alex Anderson, of Seven Seeds barista fame, being in the process of scouting locations in Kensington for a new coffee venture.

I’d hit pay dirt, the good shit, the shiznit or any other cliché you might be inclined to hurl at it. I had some insider coffee knowledge, without being an insider. Fantastic. So after rubbing it in @alexlobov’s face (my personal coffee idol), I didn’t have much to do with the information. So patiently I waited for the grand opening of Melbourne’s newest coffee Mecca.

With further visits to Cup of Truth, I was able to ascertain that Courtney would, on weekends, be working at The Premises. Thus we are neatly back on the topic of barista stalking. Personally I think stalking is a bit harsh. It’s more like what happens when you find a good doctor. Once you found them, you don’t let go. Ever.

Now that we’ve established I’m only ‘kind of ‘strange, onto the review. I suppose this review is a bit of a repeat of that for De Clieu — great coffee with knowledgeable staff and tasty food. Unsurprising, given Alex & co. were a big reason for Seven Seeds success. The difference between The Premises and somewhere like De Clieu or Seven Seeds is the level of ‘polish’ to the aesthetic. Seven Seeds and De Clieu are executed flawlessly with respect to the architecture and café design. Contrast this to The Premises,which feels slightly less polished and more raw and rustic, perfectly fitting the slightly ‘decrepit in a interesting way’ feel of Kensington.

Ms G and I started the day’s caffeine intake with a pair of lattes (or lat-e as my grandfather pronounces it): a ‘woosie’ soy milk for her, and a manly cow’s milk for me! Very tasty, not too heavy in flavour, nor too milky — a well made latte. With the coffee circulating, we’d need something to soak up the caffeine.
Gem went for the french toast with stewed vanilla apricots and spiced mascarpone, with the obligatory side of bacon (c’mon, bacon goes with everything!). Simply delicious. The fruit was very subtle and not overly sweet, working really well with the creaminess of the mascarpone. The bacon even worked too!

For me The Premises creamed corn, fried free-range and cumin salt on multigrain toast caught my eye. In my younger years I’d sneak cans of creamed corn from the pantry, but haven’t had it since. While the creamed corn isn’t remarkable on its own (’cause, let’s face it, it’s creamed corn) it works amazingly well with the other ingredients. The gooey yolk and slightly spicy and salty bit of the cumin salt offset the sweet creamed corn. My only quibble with the meal is the size for the price. At $14.50 I’d expect either a slightly larger serving, or the bacon to be included in the ‘base model’ (+$3.50 for bacon).

Sated, but never satisfied we decided on more coffees. I ‘hit up’ a long black Columbian Carlos Imbachi, while Gem (the perpetual hipster) had the El Salvador Kilimanjaro natural as a pourover. To be honest I can’t remember much about my coffee, other than it being tasty. Gem was enamoured with hers, and I was pleased that there wasn’t a beaker in sight.

Full to bursting, we waddled over to the counter to pay. However, before we were allowed to leave, Gem was quizzed about her take on the pour over. Now while I’m only just developing the palate to discern flavours in coffee, she responded with something about ‘dark chocolate with star anise on the finish’. All gobbledegook to me, I’m afraid. Damn coffee wanksters.

So, in summary: a very nice cafe, in a very nice suburb. You can even stalk your favourite barista there.

the french press is back, baby

11 Replies

“So the creators of St Ali, Brother Baba Budan and Seven Seeds opened a new cafe, De Clieu, and they didn’t fuck it up” — was my short-attention-span-generation review of De Clieu for Ms G.

Now while my ‘review’ above is a little short, and perhaps a tad profane, it pretty much sums up De Clieu for me. Legends of the Melbourne coffee scene have opened a new place, and as with all the previous iterations, they’ve executed it beautifully — friendly and knowledgeable wait staff, great food and of course, fantastic coffee. Tick, tick, tick.

I was at a loose end while Ms G was at yoga and it was suggested that I pop in to De Clieu. I’d grab a coffee (or two) and then G and I would hit up Auction Rooms for some mad ‘pork knucklage’ (but more on that in a later post). Perfect.

Scanning the oh-so-pretty menus for the smallest looking dish I settled upon the buckwheat and rice muesli. Damn it was good – puffy soft rice, chocolatey crunch of hazelnuts, bitey zing of dehydrated apple, strawberry and orange, creaminess of the yoghurt and the sweetness of strawberry jam.

I’d need an equally impressive coffee to go with my nom breakfast. The more I latte sip, the more I try to expand my coffee horizons, trying more exotic blends and more esoteric brewing methods. Today would be no exception, selecting the Guatemalan Cup of Excellence in the French press.

Now, I realise there is nothing fancy or new about the French press, except perhaps in an old-is-new-again kind of way. In fact, for me the French press (or plunger coffee) is distinctly unsexy — years of my father drinking plunger Lavazza gave me, quite literally, a bad taste for the French press. Fast forward to 2010, and the overlords of the lactose-intolerant-skinny-jean-wearing-coffee-sipping hipsters, Seven Seeds, have deemed the French press cool again. Well, if it’s good enough for those wacky hipsters, then it’s good enough for me. Subtle, tea-like in body, slightly fruity. Really quite delicious, and very much like a pour-over, which is unsurprising given both methods ‘steep’ the coffee in hot water. My father had it right drinking it black back then as such a light-bodied coffee shouldn’t be messed with by adding milk as it completely overpowers the subtle flavours. If only Dad hadn’t used Lavazza! On a previous excursion to De Clieu, Ms G had a similar enlightenment. From the way she describes the experience I suspect there were angels singing, trumpets blazing and soft cheeses and cured meats being distributed.

I shall forever have a soft spot for De Clieu in my heart because it is the place where upon having Ethiopian Nekisse through the French press, I was able to smell and taste the blueberry. A true coffee epiphany moment. To top it off, I gleefully shared my experience with the staff and instead of acting like they’d just been assaulted by some silly girl, they shared in my joy and enthusiasm. Much love.

Following the French press I had a similarly delicious long black with an unnamed single-origin. I was buzzing.

De Clieu is a beautiful venue, and like its larger brother Seven Seeds there’s whispers of design awards with a minimal and uncluttered layout. Unfortunately, as they say, strengths are sometimes weaknesses and seating is in short supply, so get there early. While you’re there grab a French press – they’re not nearly as daggy as you remember.

third wave to the power of two

10 Replies

South Melbourne – home of the brothel! At least that’s what my rudimentary ‘research’ (Googling) has led me to conclude. It makes sense – South Melbourne is primarily a business district; lots of workers need to be ‘serviced’, apparently.

Now the only thing South Melbourne seems to have more of (than brothels) is third-wave coffee places. Between St Ali, Dead Man Espresso, Padre and a slew a smaller cafés the area’s not exactly a coffeeless wasteland. That’s why I was a little surprised when I happened upon a still-being-renovated Freestyle Espresso a few months back, whilst causing a ruckus in the back-streets of South Melbourne (read: lunch-time stroll). Once back in the office I utilised my computer to ‘research’ the venue, and seeing that its presence had already caused a disturbance in the ‘force’ (in food blogger wankster circles), I took a mental note to check back in when it had opened. Fast-forward a month, and the lovely Ms G and I were in South Melbourne, hungry and looking for breakfast action.

Walking into the place it all looked rather pretty – cute little tables, polished concrete floors and pristine shelves of gourmet foodstuffs; not at all out of place amongst the more seasoned South Melbourne cafés. Happy in the place’s ‘swishness’ I moseyed on up to the counter, ordering a latte and Moroccan mint tea to wet our whistles. The tea as pictured above, came in a cute and oh-so-shiny teapot. The tea itself was quite sweet and refreshing, and Ms G seemed to enjoy it immensely.

Opting for my default latte (as I do when confronted with a new venue), I found the coffee to be very drinkable, but not in the same oh-my-gawd league as some of the aforementioned cafés.

We grabbed some of the gorgeous menus (pictured above) and began to scrutinise them over at our table, and scrutinise we did – we were like two hipsters at an op shop, poring over piles of clothing to clad our fashionably emaciated frames, only to lock eyes on the same outrageously ‘ironic’ 80s rainbow coloured mohair cardigan.

In our case the delicious ‘cardigan’ of the morning was the Welsh rarebit. Being the utter gent (or lord, as my brothers would say) I acquiesced to Ms G having the rarebit. From her account it was a tasty bit of fare, and from the mouthful I had it was a good bit of winter food.

In recent times I’ve had a gaggle (or is that swarm?) of good cassoulets (Libertine, Cafe Vue at Heide), so spotting the cassoulet with streaky bacon with the offer of an egg on top (a free set of steak knives is the home shopping equivalent) I was sold. However reality did not quite meet my home shopping network exceptions: what I was presented with was not cassoulet. It ostensibly had the cassoulet ingredients, but really tasted more like a standard breakfast of bacon, sausages, egg and beans. As Ms G noted, stewed beans with assorted other ingredients in a dish does not make cassoulet. Also, being a man of ‘large appetite’ the meal felt a little small, and could have done with a piece of sourdough or similar to hold it together.

While I may have had some issues with the food, the staff were fantastic. Extremely friendly and informative, with the barista giving me a run down on their house coffee, Allpress. While the coffee isn’t at the same level as some others in the area, and there are a few ‘teething’ issues with food, I will most certainly be back to give the café another try.

Given the lacklustre coffee at Freestyle, and the ominous ‘headlight wiper of doom’ spotted in the street (not to be confused with Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom) Ms G and I decided to navigate the unwashed masses at South Melbourne Market and pick up a coffee at Padre.

The crowds waiting for their Saturday morning fix was a good sign; I thrust Ms G into the line, requesting a latte with the house blend. It was delicious. While I’m not a coffee snob (at present), I do ‘know what I like’ and this was it. I can’t recall the exact flavours, but it reminds me of the blend used at Cup of Truth.

Ms G, the real man in the relationship (not to be confused with ‘The real Julia’) got a long black, delivered in a gorgeous bit of crockery. For her it wasn’t bitter, and very flavoursome in a savoury way.

The wait staff seemed very attentive and efficient, even amongst the fury of Saturday morning markets. If you’re in the area on the weekend or during the market’s weekday trading hours and need your ‘fix’, this is the place for it.

eat, drink, stagger

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

Author Archives: tristan

barista stalker

the french press is back, baby

third wave to the power of two