Operation Crab, Sydney

The Crab Whisperer
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

One of the best things about being into food, is all of the other people who are into food. We hide in the strangest of places, always ready to make a restaurant recommendation or share the best recipe for oatmeal raisin cookies.

I was blessed to meet a fellow friend in food during my time in Sydney. Jake Greenberg is a true budding greedy weasel, and one of my regrets about moving to Calgary is that I won’t get to spend more time with him.

My first sense of his gastronomic powers was when we went to a simple noodle bar. The whole family was there; grandparents, aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, cousins and brothers. And me, the interloper, being welcomed for the first time, into the glories of a very large extended family. Most of the children were drumming with chopsticks and attempting to hide spring rolls up one another’s noses. As the other diners left, I was beginning to regret my decision to choose a restaurant with no tablecloths and the worst acoustics in the whole of Balmain. But over the noise, I hear Jake say that he was going to have the squid.

An eight year old choosing the squid? This is relevant to my interest. Said squid was duly delivered, and I was keen to get Jake’s view.

“It’s a little bland.”

I had found a new friend.

So I suggested to Jake that we cook together one day. Pick anything you like…we’ll make it, I promised. He chose crab. To go to the fish market and pick a live crab. And then take it home and kill it and prepare it and eat it. Of course an eight your old gourmet would want to do this.

I duly create a menu and work out the most humane way to kill a crab. My plan was that this would be a lesson about our moral obligation, as those at the top of the food chain, to treat our food well. To teach Jake how to choose good produce and prepare it simply and beautifully. We were going to have crab linguine, with some buffalo mozzarella bruschetta, and chocolate cupcakes.

Once back from the market, (where Jake eyeballed the pecorino with truffles as something he wanted to try, based solely on the $120 per kilo price as he scarfed down a half dozen rock oysters) I set to putting our two Queensland Mud Crabs into a coma. I was determined that they wouldn’t be thrown, alive, into a pan of boiling water and while my research suggested that a spike to the “brain” was probably a very good way of dispatching them efficiently, I’m no crab brain surgeon.

Jake suggested throwing them, alive, into a pan of boiling water. I was pleased and began my homily about moral obligation. Jake listened, nodding. “How about we put one into a coma and throw the other one, alive, into a pan of boiling water?”

With hindsight, we should have. It would have been interesting to see if there was any noticeable difference in the texture of the crabs with two different cooking methods, and Jake would have got his wish. However, I stood firm, and both crabs were anesthetized before death. The other thing I stood firm on was not untying one of the crab claws. This was just an instinct from me, in spite of repeated begging from Jake. It was only afterward that I discovered Mud Crab claws are so strong, they can pince off the finger of a grown man. Maybe I do have some maternal instincts…

The meal turned out well. Jake enjoyed his first taste of softly sweet imported buffalo mozzarella, and the linguine, with the crab, parsley, ripe tomato chunks and garlic, was enjoyed by all. Less successful were my cupcakes. Turns out that even a budding gourmet isn’t ready for 66 % Valrhona chocolate. He did enjoy licking the bowl though.

Aria, Sydney

Aria: Passionfruit Souffle
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

They say that the food is generally inversely proportionate to the view. Guillaume at Bennelong put me off dining in Sydney's hatted harbour restaurants. But I'll admit it, I was wrong, and Aria has put me back on track.

This blog was always meant to be about celebrating the good. And there was only good to be found here.

OK, so maybe the bread wasn't perfect, but the butter was fabulous and really, that's what eating bread is all about. That, or cheese.

Luckily I was dining with two of my favourite greedy weasels in the world, so when I arrived (late, natch) the champagne was already being poured. They didn't bat an eyelid when I suggested we begin by sharing the oyster starter, and then move on to our own starters. So six beautiful local oysters arrived, with a vichyssoise mousse. I generally prefer my oysters on the half-shell, by the dozen and with nothing more than a flick of tabasco or a squeeze of lemon, but this composed dish was heavenly.

The amuse bouche did sort of pass me by, but starters more than made up. The duck consomme was the winner; amazing depth of flavour with a couple of slithery duck confit wontons to ring the textural changes. My scampi came a close second though, showcasing the amazing shellfish that we take for granted here. Seriously, move to Calgary and soon you'll be having the sort of carnal response these scampi and crab croquettes caused me.

Mains were equally good. My quail came with a couple of breaded, deep-fried legs, which basically were KFC for gourmets, and this should be applauded. . Giles went very quiet over his beef, but his silence said more than anything. I didn't get a taste, but this was mainly because I was being all territorial over my quail and working out how I might take the bucket of Robuchon style mash potato home and make it my life partner.

Jet lag kicked in at this point and I was sure I wouldn't stand the 20 minute waiting time for Damana's passionfruit souffle. Luckily the wispy lightness and lick of passionfruit syrup that had been smeared on the cooking pot perked me up enough to make it through petites fours and coffee.

Rumours that I threatened to vomit with tiredness if our cab didn't arrive soon aside, this was a wonderful evening with cooking of the very highest calibre. I'd rate it over any other fine dining experience I've had in Sydney, Tetsuyas included. It totally encapsulates Sydney fine dining, with amazing ingredients, informal but knowledgeable service and, of course, a view to die for.

Aria is at 1 Macquarie St, Sydney (02) 9252 2555

Introducing the NomNomNoms

NomNomNomsGroup Pic
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

So it all really started when we discovered that I know two people called Giles. Actually, I know five people called Giles, but it turns out that the bloke from Buffy the Vampire Slayer doesn't count.

It was clear that we needed to get these Giles' (or should it be Giles's?) together, to see if the world would implode and what are the correct rules for possession and pluralisation of names ending with an 's'. Oh yes, and to eat some good food. People called Giles like to eat.

So Damana came up with the name, because we're all greedy weasels and are likely to make ravenous noises when eating. There was *a lot* of discussion about where we would eat first. Emails like this flew about:

"Right, I love the B theme too. So the nominees for the first dinner are:


Bilsons
Billy Kwong
Bistrode
Balzac
Becasse
Boathouse on Blackwattle Bay

Three votes each. You can put all three onto one restaurant or spread them out. Idea is to get the broadest possible idea of where people want to go.

Rah."

Votes were purchased, gauntlets thrown down, handbags parried at dawn. Bilsons won. The fact that I wait until last to vote and was collating the results, means that one day I'll probably end up being dictator of a small African nation.

And then it all gets rather interesting. Bilsons had a dish on the à la carte menu that I had wanted to try for years. Lièvre à la Royale, or Hare with black truffles, foie gras and a sauce made of the hare's blood.

Calls were placed. Hares were caught. Bilsons ended up substituting the dish onto the Menu Fin Bec. We were hoping they'd actually create a whole new tasting menu for us, but they didn't seem to want to go that far. Either way, we were having a special menu created for us at a very special restaurant.

We've created a group blog about the NomNomNoms. The idea is that we'll all contribute. I still need to organise my thoughts about the meal but you might like to check it out.

Oh, and if you'd be interested in joining us, please let me know by either leaving a comment with your contact details or emailing me. Am sure we'll enjoy dreaming up a devilish hazing for new members

Bentley Restaurant

Duck.
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

I had a not bad three course meal at Bentley Bar and Restaurant in Surry Hills recently. Unfortunately it was part of an eight course tasting menu, so I left feeling financially mugged and gastronomically frustrated.

Do I not like fine dining anymore? I’m really starting to wonder if my travels to eat in all of the temples of avant-garde cuisine were the mere folly of youth. Did I let my brain get in the way of my taste buds? Did I really enjoy all that molecularly modified food? Am I having some sort of gastronomic mid-life crisis?

I can’t actually remember the last time I left a fine-dining restaurant ecstatically happy. Tetsuyas? White truffle ice cream tastes of bad breath.. Hibiscus? Nice sausage roll.There are more, but I can’t actually remember any of the meals without going to Flickr and that’s part of the problem.

What I can remember are the roast chicken with bread sauce at Glebe Point Diner in Sydney. The locally caught mussels wrapped in home reared and cured lardo at the Sportsman in Seasalter. Neither of these are fine-dining (although the Sportsman does have a Michelin star) but both of these punch far above their weight in terms of their deliciousness, despite their lack of pomp and circumstance.

So why did I dislike Bentley so much and why I am writing about it, given I said that this blog was here to celebrate the good? Because sometimes you have to call people out when they are serving bad food. So here’s the new rule from the fabulous life of Binky Silhouette. I’m not just telling you about the good stuff anymore.

But I can’t resist some positivity. There was some good to be found here. The amuses bouches were unusual and delicious. I know I’m a patè whore, but serving jerusalem artichoke soup with a schmear of chicken liver patè at the bottom was a good idea, and one I will be stealing at home. The roasted duck breast with kohl rabi and black fungus was earthy and rich and showcased a nice piece of duck. The white chocolate and mandarin fizz with mandarin ice cream was a beautifully balanced desert, albeit with elements I first saw at WD-50 about five years ago. You can’t fault someone from re-using a good idea.

However, serving pork with salmon roe is not a very good idea. There’s a reason why pork and fish are generally kept apart. You can’t take a pork cheek, an unctuous, fatty piece of meat at the best of times and contrast it with the…unctuous, fatty, fishy richness of some salmon roe. You then can’t serve it with some smoked salmon and beetroot. Especially when the smoked salmon is inside an ersatz ravoli that appears to made out of purple-tinged polystyrene.

I’m going to stop here. I’ll let the Flickr set tell you the rest.

Bentley Bar and Restaurant is at 320 Crown Street. You don’t need the number. You won’t be going.

Glebe Point Diner is at 407 Glebe Point Road. You can make a reservation for one of their two dinner sittings on (02) 9660 2646.

I'll tell you more about the Sportsman very soon.

North Bondi Italian Food

NBIF menu
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

I think I’ve found a reason to want the Sydney winter to continue.

The Global Corporate Challenge has awakened my latent competitiveness and I now find myself walking everywhere. The planned walk from Spit Bridge to Manly had been cancelled (due partly to inclement weather and partly to 74 sub-standard Margaritas at La Cita the night before) but I had a terrible urge to “get the steps in”.

This is the only reason I have for why last Sunday, I was one of only three people walking along Bondi Beach in the sleeting rain and a force 12 gale. I’m fairly sure that the other two were also British.

If any Australians had spotted me, I’m sure they would have rolled their eyes twice. Once for the fact that they don’t think Bondi is “all that” and find my obsession with this beach risible. And twice because it was bloody cold.

But I was walking with purpose and I figured I would treat myself to lunch at North Bondi Italian Food, little sister restaurant to Icebergs.

It’s a casual (but not inexpensive), chic place, which doesn’t take reservations. It was already rammed at 12.30pm and the wait time for a table was an hour. Luckily, you can also eat at the bar, and given I looked like the wild wombat woman of Wooloomooloo (I love saying that. More “oohs” than a lorry load of adult DVDs), I can imagine that the Maitre’d was quite happy for me to be hidden by the door, away from the far more glamorous Sydney residents who’d already bagged a table. I love restaurants with a bar that solo diners can eat at. You feel much less inconspicuous (not something I generally worry about, but last night’s mascara was halfway down my cheeks and I was wearing a Yahoo t-shirt), you don’t feel the need to tip double (which I generally do in a nice place when I’ve taken up a two-top) and you can flirt with the hot barman (which, given I discovered the mascara when I got home was perhaps over-ambitious). The menu is utterly eatable and it took me a whole, very delicious, latte and about 26 complimentary monkey nuts to make my decision. It was meant to be a light lunch, so some salami and bread to begin and soup to follow.

Doesn’t sound like it’s going to amount to much, does it?

But this is a restaurant that takes its sourcing very seriously. So the salami is a cacciatore salami made from 90kg Black Berkshire pigs that have clearly had a very happy life. It’s served with some exceptional breads from Sonoma bakery and Fratelli Fresh olive oil. My only complaint was that you can’t get a tasting plate of the salumi and I really want to try to cutaletto and the guanciale. Next up was a massive, steaming bowl of twice cooked chicken broth with chicken polpette and chunky carrots. The bowl’s big enough to drown in and is everything that chicken soup could ever be. The stock was beautifully clarified, full flavoured and sparkling. The meatballs were firm and tasty, the chunky carrots all sweet and…well, chunky. It’s so easy to do chicken soup wrong, but all of the components were carefully thought-out and a lot of extra effort had gone into making this a wonderful dish.

I would have stayed for an averna (this place has a great digestive list) but it was getting hugely busy and I was being bumped and clattered from all sides. The noise level was unbearable. I’ll never understand the fashion for restaurants made entirely of hard surfaces that don’t even think to put some linen on the tables. I can imagine that this isn’t a problem in the summer, when the huge French-windows open and you can both see and hear the waves, but for now, my only criticism can only be righted by beautiful velvet drapes around all of the walls.

I cannot wait to go back here. It’s my new favourite place. Next time I want to get stuck into the (be still my beating heart) offal section of the menu, or perhaps try a roast of the day. And the marinated sardines. And some pasta. Oh God. I really can’t wait to go back.

North Bondi Italian Food is at 1 Notts Avenue, just opposite Bondi Beach.

Universal Restaurant, Sydney

Things have changed since I last posted. I'm just back from a long vacation and Australia has had a change of government. Change is good, especially when it's a move from a party that's slightly to the right of the Nazis to a man who appeared on one of Australia's most popular TV shows and told us who he'd "turn gay for" (his wife, rather bizarrely, but I guess we all now know who wears the trousers in that relationship). More excitingly, the lead singer of Midnight Oil (remember them?) is Minister for the Environment, and the drummer from INXS is Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Amid this cornucopia of change, Christine Mansfield has moved back to Sydney and opened Universal in Darlinghurst. I never got to East@West in London, a comment I heard from several people when she closed and that probably explains why she didn't make it. She's moved back home with several of the team from London and has set up in a rather odd place in the Inner East. I like the space; it's bright, colourful and the open front blends indoors and outdoors really well. Guess I can't see how it's going to work in winter, no matter how many artfully rolled up blankets they leave on each banquette. But never-mind, this is a space that doesn't really look like a restaurant and at least it's not owned by Gordon Ramsey. The menu is "tasting size portions" but doesn't seem to be designed to share, so it's actually clever marketing to get you to spend more money on less food. And you get to be all territorial over your plate. Still, they supply lots of cutlery, should the desire to share overtake you. Each plate on the tempting menu comes with a wine suggestion, which is fine if you want to build your own degustation menu and wine flight, but it was Tuesday night and I really just wanted a simple bite to eat. I must be getting old, but it's nice to not have a "concept" to get from time to time. Matching one wine to a possible 12 different dishes across the four of us was going to be impossible, so we had a bottle of Twofold Riesling from the (I thought) quite expensive wine-list.

Mansfield's famed for her spicing and ability to build harmonious plates of complicated food. I'm not sure she succeeded tonight. A beginning of lamb sweetbreads with surface ripened goats cheese and hazelnuts was a selection of well sourced ingredients, slightly wrongly matched. Everything was high quality and well executed, but I'm still not convinced by a cheese and sweetbread pairing. Worse was a lobster hot and sour soup with an incendiary broth, and a complaint got an unhelpful "did you think we were joking when we said Hot and Sour Soup?". No, but neither did I expect the Universal Gaytime on the desert menu to involve Liza Minnelli and a bottle of poppers.

Luckily our final plates picked up a bit and my rosy veal (don't shudder, all of us who drink milk have a moral responsibility to eat veal) with caramelised foie gras was a juicy piece of sous vide veal and a nice sliver of foie. Sous vide meat can be a bit like nursing home food, but this hit the spot and started to live up to some of the hyperbole lavished on this place.

A chocolate Extravaganza and a decaf long black (with a very rich, very tiny fruit and nut brownie) finished off one side of the table and I managed to make enough puppy-dog eyes to get a couple of spoonfuls of a fairy-floss garnished but otherwise very grown-up peach and vanilla yoghurt panacotta desert from Giles and Kerrie.

The bill? $500. And there's the rub. This isn't cheap and it could be more filling. That said, it's a good way to try a DIY degustation style menu in glamorous, relaxed, informal surroundings. But I don't need a starter restaurant, and this just didn't quite do it for me.

Universal Restaurant
Republic 2 Courtyard, Palmer Street, (between Liverpool & Burton Sts), Darlinghurst
(02) 9331 0709

Cupcakes on Pitt

There's something about a cupcake. I brought the box on the left into the office and there was lots of cooing and oohing. There's something about the scrummy moistness and the swirly frosting that makes the sanest of adults all excited. I reckon it's to do with getting to eat a whole cake. I'm a sucker for anything that I can have all by myself. Maybe it's a mini Melton Mowbray pork pie with a slick of English mustard. A crisp skinned poussin which I can devour with my fingers. A Vacherin Mont'Dor and a loaf of bread. A leg of lamb.

Cupcakes on Pitt reminded me of Peyton and Byrne in London, only with less frosting (this is no bad thing in my eyes, I am All About the Cake) but friendlier service. They have two branches, one in Bondi and one at 323 Pitt Street. Their best seller (and most delicious cake) was the Lemon Meringue Pie, with its sharp lemon curd filling and swirl of soft French meringue ontop. Slightly less sucessful was the Honeycomb, as the frosting was too sweet, but I heard great reports on the Milk Chocolate.

I'll be back, because as you can see from the photo, there's nothing like a box of cupcakes.

Cupcakes on Pitt, 323 Pitt Street (02) 9264 4644

Wildfire (and a rant about Oscillate Wildly)

Restauranteurs put a lot of effort into tempting punters into their dining rooms. So I still can't work out why they're so rude when people call to book a table. These days I can't really be bothered to do the whole reservation thing. I'm over the whole faxing El Bulli in Catalan to secure a reservation six months before you want to eat. I understand that having your restaurant booked up three months in advance is good for the restauranteur, but it's just not for the customer. I can see how a three month wait might be feasible if you're making me a sofa but three months notice to cook me dinner?

I called Oscillate Wildly, one of Sydney's hottest restaurants, when I first arrived. I knew the buzz was insane so I was happy to go when they had a table. I'm neither rich enough nor beautiful enough to expect to eat at 8.00pm on a Friday or Saturday night. So my pitch was "I'd like to eat in your restaurant, I know you're booked up, I would like a table for two any night of the week in May, I can come as early as you like. I'm at your mercy."

The person who answered the call laughed and told me they were fully booked until June and hung up.

This was in March.

No wait-list. No attempt to find me a space. No offer to take my number and call me when one of the people who booked six weeks in advance can't make it. I'll try a walk in early one day and I'll probably get a table. Because here's the rub. Restaurant reservationists seem to revel in pissing off the people who call, but when they see the whites of your eyes, they'll generally accommodate you. Funny that.

My mate Dave was over from London and I needed to find somewhere for us to have dinner. I was busy, so I left it until 3.00pm on the day we wanted to eat before I started my search (the best time I find as the restaurants have generally confirmed their reservations by lunchtime and they have a better idea of who's tipping up.) Wildfire is just up from Circular Quay, right opposite the Opera House and so as far as I'm concerned, not a bad spot to eat supper in. They make a big deal about their woodfired Churrasco, and Dave and I were up for a bit of a meat orgy.

First up, the little tapas they bring to get your started are very delicious. The warm flatbread with a tomato and Kryten goat curd dip is especially good. The mini venison sausage rolls were also suitably flaky, although not a patch on the sausage rolls from Mr Christie's in London. But here's the rub; linger over the tapas and a bottle of wine from their extensive list and suddenly you're not hungry anymore.

So we sort of wimped out on the meat orgy. Churrasco is meat on a stick, Brazillian style. The waiters will bring over a spike and slice off what you want, you're even given a handy pincer to help them with their meat. Being Sydney they also do a fair seafood selection, although Dave and I were agreed that this wasn't quite as good as the meat. The highlight for me was the Angus sirloin which had been aged for 30 days, although the lamb wasn't bad too. I'd go back but more likely to their bar, ember, where you can get the flatbread and an amazing selection of wine by the glass.

Here's the backstory though. When I called we were told that they'd have to have the table back by 8.30. The reservationist gave a lot of attitude and I nearly didn't take the table because there's only one thing I hate more than having to wait three months for a table, and that's being told how long my meal is going to take me to eat. What happened on the night? The restaurant was half full and we sat on the harbour until 10.00pm. I really don't understand why restaurants make such a hash of making a good first impression.

Why bother?

My old friend John Scott taught me a saying. "Life's too short to drink shit coffee."

Sydneysiders take their coffee very seriously, and while I am not yet ready to proclaim that it's impossible to get a bad cup of coffee here, it's bloody hard. Part of this is because it's an espresso based coffee culture thanks to the large Italian influx way back when, and the lack of chain outlets. Starbucks just hasn't got a foothold here. There are currently only 50 branches of Starbucks across the whole of Australia (only one or two more than in Islington then) and there's a completely different coffee lexicon here.

No more double tall skinny soy extra hot moccachinos with wings or venti frappuchinos with a caramel swirl and java chips. If you want a milkshake, go to a juice bar or the local gelateria (more on these another time) If you want a perfect coffee, you need to learn about the flat white and the short/long black. It's quite simple really. The flat white is an espresso based drink, roughly one third espresso to two thirds steamed milk. It's less milky than an latte and less foamy than a cap. The short black is an espresso, the long black basically an americano. You are allowed to add milk to a long black. The standard size is about 220-240 ml, slightly smaller than a Starbucks tall cup. To my mind, the perfect amount.

But what I love most about Sydney is that I haven't had a bad cup of a decaf yet. I don't take caffeine, what with it having the effect on me that crack cocaine has on most humans, so I'm all about the decaf. And if you think it's hard to get good coffee, try getting a good decaf in 98% of the developed world. The only problem is that some Sydneysiders* find this a bit weird and I experience some ribbing at every morning's coffee run. It has got so bad that my cup today had "why bother?" written on the lid, rather than the contents.

I'll try and get round some more places and hope to report soon on where Sydney's best cup of coffee is. Suggestions are welcome!

*you know who you are

Sydney Fish Market

We finally got round to a trip to the Sydney Fish Market today. I had no real expectations about what it was going to be like, I was just hoping to pick up some squid and prawns.

Sydney Fish Market is amazing. I feel like a whole new world of cooking has opened up to me. I used to think that the selection at Steve Hatt or Shellseekers was pretty good. I was living a lie.

Based in Blackwattle Bay, just under the Anzac Bridge, the market is the largest of its kind in the Southern Hemisphere. You'd have to go to Japan to get a wider choice of seafood. It's a wholesale market and auction in the wee hours of the morning and the retail market opens at 7.00am. You could do all of your shopping here, although I didn't see a butcher, as there's a grocer, baker and deli alongside the smorgasbord of fish. There's also a cookery school so you can learn how to cook your spoils. I wanted to cancel my weekend's plans as soon as I walked in to De Costi seafood and just spend all of my time cooking. Bri just wanted to get some calamari and sit on the wharf.

The plan was to buy some squid to make a stew for supper tonight and perhaps pick up some prawns for tomorrow. First decision of the day was which squid to go for. There was Queensland Squid, Hawkesbury Squid, cleaned squid, tiny squid, medium squid, squid rings and, probably, Oscar winning squid. It was a whole new world of squid. We went for Hawkesbury Squid from just round the corner. I think I went slightly into shock at this point and basically just wanted to photograph and then eat everything. Even Bri was open mouthed in amazement.
Down one side there was a "filet" bar where you can pick up ready filleted pieces. Across the back were mussel and pippi tanks as well as mud crabs, disabled with masking tape below signs warning that they are dangerous creatures. To one side, the largest swordfish I'd ever seen, bisected and ready to have huge steaks cut off. In the middle, the most perfect seafood stage, with piles of prawns, alternating raw and cooked, all graded by size. I managed to resist but concocted an evil plan to get some tiny green school prawns (to be an appetiser tonight) and some large prawns to get the garlic treatment tomorrow. I was planning how I might be able to get a whole snapper, perhaps roasted with chilli, into my eating plans and some scallops, which I want to roast with some soy and drizzle with balsamic when Bri dragged me away so we could explore some other parts of the market.

In Musumeci Seafoods I saw things that I had never seen before, like the bailer shells pictured above and the red cod below. Musumeci is a little more cramped than De Costi, but I think their range of whole fish might have been bigger. They had the most beautiful looking striped bonito and I was wracking my brain for recipes. I managed to keep myself on track though and ended up purchasing the tiny school prawns and some bigger ones too.

We were off to see family for lunch, but as we'd missed breakfast (and as this was our first trip here) we felt that we deserved a little snack. So Bri got his calamari and I scouted out some oysters. I haven't had oysters for a while, so I deserved a dozen, and I picked out some large Pacific and smaller Sydney rock oysters from Peter's Seafood, inside the main hall. This is a very slick operation with a delicious looking sashimi option with the fish sliced to order. Prices may be a bit higher here, it's definitely smarter than the freestanding shops outside, but I felt that the selection was a tiny bit more limited.

The oysters were delicious and needed nothing more than a squeeze of lemon and the smell of the sea, although I could have purchased mornay or kirkpatrick style to take home with me. I was expecting (there I go again) to enjoy the Pacific oysters more, as I usually prefer the looser, brinier ones. But the Sydney oyster was a revelation; creamy, close textured, muscular even, and a lot smaller than the Pacific. This was as good as snacking gets! Bri loved his calamari, although I thought they'd been sitting around a bit too long.

So tonight we're having the squid stew with pasta, a recipe from Neil Perry's new book. We just ate the school prawns, which I dusted with some paprika and semolina and then deep fried for 30 seconds or so. This was some seriously good eating; the sweetness of the paprika and tiny prawns contrasting with the semolina coating and the shells. You eat these critters whole, although I gave their tendrils (antennae?) a trim to stop them getting all tangled up. Below you can see the school prawns before they had their oil bath, and after. Now, can you guess where we're going next weekend?

Garfish

We went to the Manly Ocenarium (Australian for Aquarium) the other day to see their lizard show. The theory was that exposing me to a 3.5 metre long olive python would help cure me of my phobia. To some degree it has worked, and I managed to touch the snake and I was allowed some gelato afterwards for being a brave girl. The trip also introduced me to some new fish. Which I then ate later that evening. I've often been puzzled by my reaction to aquariums. I really love them, but they make me really hungry. I can't listen to the helper telling me which toys the octopus loves to play with, or watch the cuttlefish squirling about without thinking about a spritz of lemon and a good hot griddlepan.

It's strange, people don't walk around zoos saying "ooh, panda, that's delicious" but I see to think it's a perfectly valid response at the aquarium.

We had our first encounter with Jewfish at Manly. Yep, Bri and I did a double take on the name too. Turns out they're members of the grouper family and Jewfish is a catch-all name for a number of fish round here. The name's not considered derogatory in Oz and you'll also hear them called Jewies. In Florida, where they are a protected species, they're known as the Goliath Grouper. They can grow up to seven feet long, eat anything that gets in their way and were living quite merrily with Manly's nurse sharks.

They are also quite delicious as we discovered at Garfish, in Kirribilli, that night. I really quite liked this restaurant. More seats outside than in, a large selection of fish where you choose the method of cooking and the garnish and a good selection of wine by the glass. They say that their aim is "our fish, the way you wish" although our waitress was keen to tell us that that certain fishes respond better to different cooking methods. There were several fish that we'd never heard of, like the Blue Eyed Trevalla (bad deep fried it turns out) and the Leather Jacket. The fishes provenance was next to the name on the menu, so it was really easy to choose local fish and not add too many food miles to the bill. Bri went for the Wild Jewfish (he couldn't not, really) with soft polenta, roasted tomato and asparagus as his garnish, while I chose Ocean Trout with a pistachio, orange and plum salad. The trout came very rare and the salad lacked a bit of zing. The plum dressing was just a tad too sweet and some chili would have been a nice contrast to the rich, sweet fish. The Jewfish was excellent though; a good, thick slab with the skin griddled until crisp on a creamy bed of polenta. It's rare I get dish envy when I'm with Brian, but he totally won this time.

I drank a really amazing Tasmanian pinot grigio and am really looking forward to learning more about ANZ wine. We just got a flat today, so once we're settled I can start all of the courses, learning and cooking I've been planning for so long!

Garfish Restaurant,
2/21 Broughton Street
Kirrilbilli
9922 4322

Branches also at Manly and Crow's Nest.