Enjoying a tipple and some paella at last year’s Gourmet Escape

WA Food News: Heston confirms attendance at this year’s Margaret River Gourmet Escape (via The West Australian)

Many a Heston fan were disappointed last year when he had to understandably cancel his visit at the last minute due to a tragedy involving two of his chefs. Can’t wait to see the rest of the line-up!

Foodreads: “Worth the Wait” by James Oseland in Saveur Magazine

One of the things I love about food is that there are so many narratives, memories, and cultures that surround it. A dish can never just be a dish. Just this week, my manager shared a lovely story about her first experience eating Singapore noodles – for a teenager growing up in a small town in New Zealand who rarely got the chance to experience other cultures, it virtually changed her life. Here, Oseland shares a beautifully nostalgic story about his first visit to Indonesia when he was 19, and eating a dish - beef rendang - that thereafter convinced him to revolve his life’s work around cooking and eating.

Perth Openings: Typika, Claremont

A massive 150-seater cafe opens in the space previously occupied by Claremont Fresh by the people behind Cimbalino Espresso, with an custom-fabricated $800 000 coffee roaster as the main centrepiece. Rob Broadfield has already sung his praises for their “Beef Benedict”, a spin on the classic Eggs Benedict. The place looks pretty flash so far.

Wine Rave from a Wine Noob: Dona Paterna Alvarinho 2010 at Gordon St Garage

To be honest, I’m still learning about wine from my colleagues at Gordon St Garage – so I’m somewhat reluctant/embarrassed to post any actual “reviews” about wine here. But I’ve definitely come a long way from being completely dumbfounded at my first wine tasting two months ago. We had another wine tasting at work the other day, and this portuguese wine was my favourite from the lot – In my hastily scribbled notes from this one: “Luscious and creamy, smells like toffee and even bubblegum (?!), gorgeous textural mouthfeel.” I also drew a massive love-heart (my own version of wine rating) – hey, we can’t all be James Halliday. To learn more about Portuguese wines, check out this article.

Foodreads: San Pellegrino’s World’s 50 Best Restaurants List is released…

And I still cannot afford to eat at any of them. One day, my friends, one day…

Perth Openings: Toastface Grillah, Perth

A little sandwich store opens in the backlanes of Perth CBD, immediately wins the love of hipsters and hip-hop fans for its brilliant name. Just in time for grilled cheese season as well – reviews look pretty good so far, although there have been some complaints about a 30 minute wait for a toastie. If want to make your own grilled cheese sandwich at home, my favourite combo? Kimchi + Cheddar = The Grill’d Kimcheese. You heard it here first.

Favourite Bite of the Week: Egg Tart at New Moon Dim Sum, Northbridge (2 for $4)

Egg custard tarts are my kryptonite, the kind of thing that I could eat dozens in a row of if not for the thought that it was going straight to my thighs. A beautifully yolk-coloured and silky smooth custard and crisp flaky pastry that crumbles in the mouth. The wobble of an egg tart makes me go weak in the knees. I was especially excited to learn that New Moon Dim Sum is also open on Friday and Saturday NIGHTS, and charge only $1 pp for BYO corkage. Egg tarts past 9pm, be still my heart.

Recipe to try: Polenta Cakes with Honey-Roasted Figs

A perfect little thing to bake as the weather finally starts cooling down for real in Perth (just a month shy of winter). Unfortunately it’s a little hard to come by fresh figs in Perth at the moment, so perhaps swap them out for an autumn fruit – a poached pear, perhaps?

Best Jobs in the World – Taste Master Update

I am now an official contributor to Relax.com.sg and SoShiok.com.sg. Check out my first feature article on Relax.

I also have 3 days left before the submission for the next stage of Best Jobs in the World – I am definitely up against some impressive people, including an ex-contestant of Masterchef USA! A little intimidating, but nevertheless, keep supporting by spreading the word and liking my page on Facebook!

Have a brilliant week ahead guys! xoxo Stef

Of course, the downside to this is that some restaurants use the view and location as their main selling point, with the food and service often taking a backseat. It takes a lot to stand out from the crowd.

Bib & Tucker opened over the recent Easter long weekend with considerably more hubbub than the average beachside restaurant, mostly in part to its three famous Olympian owners – Eamon Sullivan, Steve Hooker, and Jamie Dwyer.

Our group of 12 visited on their second day open for Sunday lunch. I know how difficult it is to accommodate large groups of diners, so they definitely get some props for getting us seating right away, and being generally quite easy-going with our group arriving at different times over half an hour.

It’s a gorgeous spot, perched above the surf life saving club with floor-to-ceiling windows, ensuring every patron gets a damn fine view of the ocean. Thankfully, Leighton Beach is yet untouched by the din and commercialization that you see at the other beaches nearby, so there’s a nice feeling of space and breathing room that you don’t really get at say, Il Lido in Cottlesloe.

We were presented with an all-day Easter weekend brunch menu, a condensed version of offerings from their regular breakfast and lunch menu. At first glance, it comes across a fairly standard cafe menu with the usual offerings (bruschetta, eggs benedict, banana bread, fish and chips, etc) with a few stand-outs here and there. I’d previously read about their wood-fired pizza oven (although everyone seems to be doing wood-fired these days) and custom-built grill and rotisserie, so I definitely knew I’d had to try something that showed them off.

Since sharing is caring, L and I opted to choose a dish each and split the two between us. We had their Rotisserie Chermoula Chicken with farro, pumpkin & house harissa ($28) as well as their Fig, Pancetta & Gorgonzola pizza ($23). I particularly liked the flavours on the chicken dish – wholesome and elegant, with a bit of a twist – although I would have preferred if the chicken was served a little hotter than it was. The fig & blue cheese pizza is a combination that will work every time, although I felt that they were a little stingy on the figs (then again, I am a bit of a fig-junkie).

I was a little caffeined-out from the weekend, so didn’t order any coffee for myself, although plenty at the table did. Alas, the coffee didn’t look that great on presentation and my coffee “snob” friend T found them lacking in flavour.

All in all, despite little hiccups with the meals, all of us left feeling somewhat underwhelmed by the experience. I cannot deny that they’re serving up good food there (their head chef is the ex-sous chef from Rockpool), but there were no jaw-dropping “thisissoooogood” moments that make one feel like they must return soon. While the service was mostly efficient, the staff didn’t come off as friendly, or made you feel particularly welcome – perhaps due to opening nerves. Ladies will enjoy their view of Eamon Sullivan standing at the pass, but I think the customers would have appreciated it more if he had made an effort to have a little walk around the restaurant for a quick check/chat with tables to see how they were doing.

The fit-out is pretty bang-on, with a gorgeous long bar and communal tables with bright green and blue wooden chairs that look like they’re straight out of a beach house. Yet… There’s something that feels gimmicky about it. In one of the articles covering the opening, Eamon Sullivan is quoted as saying that he’s “never spent so much money making things look old” – and I think that might be one of the things that annoys me. There’s an emphasis on how it’s a laid-back relaxed location serving up simple food using “medieval cooking techniques”, but with a rotisserie that costs $100,000 in full view of everyone, I don’t see anything medieval or laid-back about it at all.

Bib & Tucker is a nice new spot on the Perth waterfront dining scene that I’m sure will do very well, and I certainly will return (perhaps to try their dinner menu). But less is more, Bib & Tucker, so go easy on the gimmicks and let the food and service speak for themselves.

Food/drinks – 7/10
Service/ambience – 6/10

Leighton Beach Boulevard, North Fremantle

(08) 9433 2147

Open Tues to Sun for breakfast and lunch, and weekends for dinner

It was announced last year that a branch of Jamie’s Italian was going to open in Perth CBD, and it isn’t a surprise that some major hype has been building up since then. In a sneak preview in last week’s West Australian, Rob Broadfield calls it a game-changer in the Perth food scene – quality, freshly-sourced food at affordable prices. I was lucky enough to get a table for three with hardly any wait time on their very first night open – we arrived there early (5pm) and thankfully so, because right after we were ushered into the bar with a buzzer for when our table was available, a queue started forming out the door. Apparently people were waiting 2 hours for tables after us, and given their walk-in policy, it’ll definitely be like that for a while.

There’s a frisson of excitement about the place – all that opening day buzz, coupled with the anticipation of whether it’ll live up to your expectations. One thing that you notice immediately is the amount of staff they have on hand. There’s at least 5 hosts at the door, and I spot more than a dozen section waiters, several runners, a few managers – and that’s not even counting their bar staff and kitchen team. A very organised, yet somewhat questionable system – I notice some staff standing around with nothing to do in the middle of the dinner service rush, and several tables in the restaurant were empty at 7 when there was a long queue of people out the door.

It’s relatively large in terms of floor size, yet somewhat smaller than I expected it to be (It could be because I’m working at Gordon St. Garage now – work shoutout! – a behemoth of a restaurant at 533m² seating up to 180 or so). Jamie’s is smaller in size yet they pack more people in (214 seaters), so dining there does feel a little claustrophobic after a while. I love it though – there’s a sense of raucousness and energy and homeliness that’s very Jamie – but if you’re looking for a restaurant that will give you privacy, space, and a conducive environment for intimate conversations – this isn’t for you.

While the menu is designed for individual mains, our group of three decided to go with sharing whatever we ordered. Three planks – one meat ($13.50), one veggie ($10), one fish ($12.50) covered the basics of what you’d expect from antipasto, and was a good way to try a little bit of everything. I’m not usually a big fan of cured meats, but the Wagyu Bresaola on the meat platter was outstanding. The cured and crispy fish tasted rather bland in comparison, and I’d probably give the Fish platter a miss the next time round.

At this point, their lovely Italian manager Marco came over to check on us. We had already ordered two other mains, and Marco convinced us that we also had to try their Wild Truffle Risotto ($13.50 for a half serve/$22 for full) – his favourite on the menu. In his words – “I’m Italian, and I know what a good risotto is supposed to be like, and this one is the best!” Alright Marco, sold. And damn, we were not let down. It’s a deceivingly simple dish – black truffle, butter, parmesan, nothing else. It’s rich, yet not overpoweringly so (although it’s better if you share this dish rather than have it as a main) – and at $13.50 for perfectly cooked risotto with imported Italian truffle… I’m a happy girl.

We also had the Wagyu Bresaola & Beet Salad ($24) – a wicked combination and balance of flavours – and the Wild Mushroom Ravioli ($12.50) that was punctuated with some incredibly crunchy pork-lard flavoured breadcrumbs that elevated the dish with its texture, with a tomato sauce that cut through the richness of the other dishes.

I’d read about their Peanut Butter Disaster ice-cream specially made for them by Serendipity Ice Cream in NSW, so of course I had to try it. At 3 scoops for $8, you have the option of choosing 3 different flavours from their daily selection (we also had pistachio and cannella/candied fruits). While the textures of all three scoops spoke of a high-quality artisanal ice cream, the pistachio and cannella didn’t have much discernible flavour and were almost sickly sweet. I say, just go for broke and get three scoops of the Peanut Butter, which comes with salted peanut brittle mixed through. Absolutely sinful.

Marco also recommended the Chocolate and Vin Santo Pot ($9), which was a bitter chocolate and wine mousse topped with cream and zabaglione ice cream. The mousse was a little too cake-like in texture – we has some trouble scooping it out of the cup. The biscotti on the side was tasty, but I’d have preferred if it were blitzed up and sprinkled over the top. All in all, their desserts weren’t stand-outs, and it certainly isn’t their strong point here.

And the bill? 3 planks, 3 mains, 2 desserts… Excluding the wine, it came to about $35 a person. Considering that most of the products are imported from Italy (even their risotto, according to Marco) or freshly made in store… What a deal. You can’t really complain when you feel like you’ve walked away with such great value for money. I can only hope this encourages the rest of Perth dining to step up to the plate. It’s about time.

Jamie, you’re gonna do amazing here, and it’s no surprise at all.

Food/drinks – 8/10 (Generous portions and affordable prices, big flavour punches and excellent combinations. I’ve heard a few unimpressed reviews about the food here and there, so the best thing would be to ask the staff for their top recommendations, and order a little bit of everything in half-serves to share)

Service/ambience – 7/10 (Get in early to avoid 2-hour waits or being turned away at the door. Our section waiter was a little stiff at the start from nerves and disappeared for a large part of our meal, but left a lovely handwritten thank you on our bill, which was a nice touch. Marco, the bespectacled manager, is a treat with recommendations and explaining Italian cuisine, and I even got a hug and kiss after our meal. Be prepared to raise your voice by several decibels to talk to your eating companions – it can possibly get unpleasantly loud and crowded for some.)

140 William Street, Perth CBD

08 9363 8600

Open for lunch and dinner, 7 days a week

Travelling and eating are two activities that have long been intertwined. After all, what else draws people to the smoky, raucous streets of Bangkok if not for a steaming plate of sticky Pad Thai; why such an allure about the vineyards of France, if not for that sense of sophistication of drinking a glass of Champagne where champagne is actually made; why does a holiday in New York seem almost incomplete if you don’t come home with a gushing play-by-play account of the night you managed to get a seat at Momofuku Ko?

It might just be me, but if you asked me to look back on the holidays I’ve been on, I find myself able to recollect specific meals had on each one, more so than the classic paid tourist experiences. These meals can range from the simple (New Zealand, 7 years old – A motel in the countryside in the dead of winter, canned spaghetti never tasted better) to the special (Phnom Penh, 21 years old – A humble yet nourishing bowl of Khmer noodles – a traditional Cambodian breakfast, we’re told – as the sun rises over the orphanage I’m staying in, cooked by the boarders from the Women’s shelter next door). There is just something so pleasurable about discovering and understanding more of the world around us through the enjoyment of food, and I feel so privileged to be able to eat my way through these three different cultures – East Timor, Bali, and Singapore – in the span of three weeks.

My year started with a short mission trip to East Timor – a country only just beginning to awaken with possibilities and finding its own two feet after a history marred by countless occupations. The food here is as simple as simple gets – unremarkable and a way of life to the villagers we meet, yet a source of fascination and discussion to us visitors.

Here, bread is bought for five cents a piece from a man wheeling a cart of freshly baked (or deep-fried) buns through a village. Most of their diet comes from what is farmed or fished. We were also surprised to find that fried chicken is a very popular dish here – we had it in almost every meal, although I have a feeling it’s considered a luxury for the average Timorese.

One of the best moments I get to experience at work is when I witness a kid having our chocolates for the first time. There’s the lighting up of eyes at the sight of our chocolate cabinet, the indecision over which praline to choose (“Mom, can I have another, please please please?”), the eager fingers that grab their chocolates even before I’ve set the plate down. One thing I’ve noticed at Koko Black is the different ways adults and children appreciate luxury – while the adults tend to slowly savour our chocolates or pastries in nibbles, the kids are unrestrained. They know this is a special treat, but there is no need to extend the experience – the joy is in the here and now.

Thanks to the generosity of my manager, pastry chef and colleagues, I was able to bring a little bit of this same joy – in the form of hundreds of chocolates – to the lovely kids I met in the village of Kamalalera. Above a little boy enjoying our Hazelnut Crisp praline. Worlds apart, yet there’s the same sparkle in the eye, the same licking of fingers.

“Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things can not be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” – Mark Twain

Admittedly, it’s an easy thing to demonstrate generosity when you come from a country of privilege – but what we didn’t expect was to have the roles reversed on us.

It was the last programme in our mission itinerary, and our group was gathered in the porch of a villager’s home for a training session with a few women. The weather was unapologetically muggy that day, and we were all exhausted from the previous days’ hectic schedule. In all honesty, most of us were looking forward to getting back to the restaurant attached to the “resort” we were staying back for a good celebratory dinner. As we were leaving, our hostess extended an invitation for us to come to dinner later that night – she wanted us to meet her husband and the rest of her children.

Nobody was saying it, but everyone was thinking it: For most of the trip, our group had been practising the standard precautions with eating in a developing country – bottled water only, no raw vegetables, avoiding food that has been left out. We had also been warned against accepting any food from the villagers for our personal safety. To say an awkward conversation ensued would be an understatement. We tried to decline politely – after all, we did have other plans for dinner. Plus, there were ten of us – we didn’t really want to impose on them. All sorts of excuses, but she prevailed, so we came to a compromise – our group would bring two dishes, while she cooked the rest.

Throughout the afternoon, we couldn’t stop worrying about how dinner would play out later on. How could we show up to a meal, then only eat the dishes we had brought ourselves? At the same time, none of us really wanted to get struck with traveler’s diarrhea at the end of a trip where everyone’s stomach had been doing well thus far. We expected the worst…

… And we were treated to the absolute best of what they had. When we arrived later, a large table had been brought out, and underneath a sole flickering light and the buzz of flitting insects was a feast laid out for us.

I was blown away, not just by the sheer feat of a heavily pregnant woman managing to prepare a meal for twenty in the span of five hours, but by the overwhelming sense of graciousness and genuine hospitality displayed. As we gathered around the table, all fears flew out the door – every one of our plates were piled high, and not a single one of us got even a hint of a stomach upset after the meal. What a beautiful way to experience a culture, and I think we all left feeling incredibly blessed to receive such generosity.

Next up – Bali and Singapore!

Pimlott & Strand is a newish delicatessen & cafe along North Perth’s growing cafe strip. It’s a wee little spot – clean white walls with a splash of sunshine, a long communal table in the middle of the cafe splattered with fresh flowers and lemon salt & pepper shakers (with several more tables outside), and shelf after shelf of tempting produce that will make any foodie weak in the knees.

When we visited on a warm Friday morning, the cafe had a good amount of customers without being too busy. However, I can foresee its size and layout making dining inside a little awkward – you have to maneuver around the big table to get a good look at the products, and if a big group comes in, you might end up elbow to elbow with them, which isn’t the best if you’re looking to have a private conversation.

I had their Crostino (toast with some sautéed spinach & mushrooms with shaved pecorino – $12.50), while L had their Breakfast Insalata (baked bread with grilled pancetta, poached egg & rocket – $16.50). Both dishes were well made (although I ended up having to ask for extra olive oil to finish the bread), but a little on the safe side, and to be honest, both dishes were nearly indistinguishable from each other.

Unfortunately, the rest of their breakfast menu had similar run-of-the-mill offerings – e.g. smoked salmon bagels, potato cake with capers and salmon, savoury croissants, etc… While I cannot fault them for much (both food & coffee were well-presented and made with skill), I do hope that they introduce more imaginative offerings to their hot-food menu, especially with competition like Sayers Sister a short drive away.

Pimlott & Strand is a good place to drop by for a quick bite and a stock-up on hard-to-find artisan produce if you’re around the area, but it’s not a big stand-out in my book in terms of the food on offer. A slight shame at that too, because it’s so cheerful and charming that I still have my fingers crossed for their success.

Food – 6/10, Service/Ambience – 7/10

Shop 21/391 Fitzgerald St
North Perth

08 9328 5002

Open for breakfast & lunch 7 days a week

“These hand-cut chips are life-changing. They’re triple-cooked, once to 30%, then we let them cool down, then again to 70%, then cooled down, then fried right before service. Ah-may-zing. Soooo good.”

Our plank of Pork Belly, Confit Tomato Crumble, Chips ($25) is delivered to the table with a dramatic flourish, accompanied by the above effusive commentary by Hipster-Waiter-Number-One, whom I identify throughout the night by the purposefully-ripped hem of his ironic statement t-shirt that’s also several sizes too large for him.

When service staff make such hearty recommendations of their products, it sets a standard of expectation that I fully expect the dish to meet. I had goosebumps of anticipation as I reached for a chip. Was my life really going to change? Was I never to go back to the mere single-cooked chips that I knew before?

Unfortunately (or fortunately – depending on which way you see it, for I cannot imagine a life where I am no longer satisfied by a late night hit of fries from McDonalds) – the Precinct’s chips didn’t really live up to their reputation. Hipster-waiter, I felt so let down! You could’ve just gone for “They’re really good” instead of the whole “They’re life-changing” spiel.

Not that the chips were bad, not at all. Yes, they were softish on the inside, but not the transcendent level of fluffy, falling-apart chip perfection. Sure, the skins were sufficiently crispy to the bite, but not with a glass-like shatter. Of course, I fully admit to being pedantic at this point. There are bigger problems in the world to worry about than chips. But when you’re promised a certain level of goodness, and the product barely meets its self-made target… Plus, I suspect that the chips were based on Heston Blumenthal’s famous Triple-Cooked Chips recipe. It just seems somewhat… dishonourable to use an unoriginal recipe (and one that’s easily achievable by millions of home cooks all over the world) and not have it perfectly made.

Before I start to sound like the most critical food snob here, I have to commend the Tomato Crumble that came with the dish. It ended up being the unexpected star of the show – intriguing and surprising, both sweet and savoury, simple yet unassumingly yummy in the way it let the produce speak for itself – the way a good dish should.

Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the other two dishes I had – Cauliflower Risotto ($14) – underseasoned, woeful presentation, overpriced, and the Truffle Mac & Cheese ($9 – seen above, in a plate smaller than the size of my palm) – also rather bland, considering I expected the truffle to make it pop, but I was sick of this by my third bite.

While I did very much want to like the Precinct based on the fairly good reviews circling around,, I arrived expecting much and was promised much by our Hipster Waiters, but the food was a general disappointment. Though their menu hints at an experimental, almost irreverent David Chang dude-food kind of vibe (e.g. Turkey wings with Nam Jim sauce), the actual dishes served were underwhelming and overpriced, with no real feel of effort or generosity. Looking at its recent reviews on Urbanspoon, it looks like I’m not the only one feeling that way, which is a worry, given that it’s still a rather new establishment, and it’s a little early to start declining in standards.

I do have to give them massive bonus points for the service – all of the staff at The Precinct were wonderfully cheerful and personable, and incredibly accommodating to our group of twenty-odd rowdy Asians. I work in hospitality, and being Chinese, I feel like I can say this without sounding racist – but every time a big group of Asians come into my shop, a chill goes up my spine. We were an absolute nightmare to deal with, but they remained helpful throughout the night. Many thanks, dear Hipster Waiters! I actually feel like a horrible person now for giving you such a bad review.

Food – 3/10, Service/Ambience – 7/10

834 Albany Hwy
East Victoria Park

(08) 9310 8255

Open for breakfast, lunch and dinner 7 days a week

I’ve passed the two-month mark at my new job as a supervisor at Koko Black, and I’m absolutely loving it. To be honest, I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long – I still remember being so overwhelmed my first week there, and reckoning with God some stressful, sleepless nights about how impossible it was for me to even going to last a month in the place. Of course, there’s still some bad days – but I work with such a lovely group of people that I find myself smiling more and more there, even on the craziest of afternoon rushes. Plus, the sweetest old lady customer held my hand the other day for a full minute and told me that I was doing a lovely job. Um, what other occupation allows you to have such a genuine (albeit slightly awkward) interaction with other human beings?

However, a question that I’ve been getting asked quite a bit, usually out of concern when they learn how much (little) money I’m making, and in perfect innocence with no offense taken by me, is “Why don’t you find a real job elsewhere?”

There are plenty of reasons I could name (among them – this is a real job; I cannot properly function in office spaces; I want to open my own cafe in the future, etc etc), the chief one is that I love the fact that I get to both experience and display generosity in real, practical ways at work now.

One of my colleagues experienced the loss of a family member recently – and there was a morning last week where I was opening the store with her. My train was a little early that day, so I had 20 minutes before work to kill. I was going to sit in a nearby courtyard to have a much needed zone-out, but something led me to keep walking on to Coles to buy the brightest flowers I could possibly find to cheer her up. To be honest, the whole walk there (and even while looking for them), I could hear my brain telling me things like – Flowers are so overpriced – they’re not worth spending on! You can just give her a hug instead! You just had to pay off some crazy bills! That’s half your hour’s wage gone!

I realised what was holding me back (what always holds us back, I think): The idea that I didn’t really have “spare” cash should let me off the hook. I had come to my own conclusion that I did not have enough to give, therefore limiting my own actions. It’s not common to meet rich people who actually say and think that they’re rich — because they think that someone else, somewhere, has more.

In the grand scheme of things, the flowers didn’t make that much of a dent on my budget. And somehow, I felt so much richer having given those flowers than if I hadn’t spent on them at all.

The best thing about this is, a few days later, someone else at work (who didn’t know about the first story) bought me some flowers because she saw how tired I was from working some crazy shifts. Proverbs 22:9 says “The generous will themselves be blessed” and I can’t help but see this promise come to pass here. I’m also so glad to be in the company of the most generous people at work and at cell and church – I can only hope to do more of the same even as I learn from their example.

There are plenty of ways to be generous(time, money, etc), but of course my favourite way to do so is through sharing food. I’ve purposely adapted this granola recipe to make a massive batch so that it can be divided into several jars to share. The ingredients – especially the olive oil, maple syrup and brandy – are slightly costly for something as simple like granola, but it pays off in terms of the final texture and taste. You definitely don’t want to use maple-flavoured syrup instead of actual maple syrup here!

Granola:

6 cups rolled oats

1 1/2 cups pumpkin seeds

1 1/2 cups sunflower seeds

1/2 cup poppy seeds

1/2 cup sesame seeds

2 cups coconut flakes

2 cups mixed nuts – pecans, walnuts, pistachios, almonds

1 cup pure maple syrup

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1-2 teaspoons of sea salt to taste

Cranberries:

1 cup dried cranberries or dried apricots

1 rooibos tea bag

2 cups boiling water

1 cup brandy

1. Pre-heat oven to 145 degrees celsius.

2. Combine granola ingredients and 1 tsp of salt in a mixing bowl and stir well until combined. Spread mixture over parchment paper lined baking sheets and transfer to oven.

But I remember the first thing I made on my own: a frying pan of simple scrambled eggs. I remember watching my dad make them on our housekeeper’s off days on weekends – his method is hard and fast, with a dash of milk midway. For most of us, scrambled eggs are the very first dish we cook for ourselves, but the results are often lazy and hurried – the heat turned up too high, not enough seasoning, etc. The scrambled eggs of my childhood were pallid, rubbery, and overcooked (sorry, Dad!), until I watched the life-altering video of Gordon Ramsey making his perfect scrambled eggs. I’ve never looked back.

Since then, I’ve fine-tuned the method according to my preferences. For one thing, I find no real need for creme fraiche the way Mr. Ramsey does it, but the principle remains the same – good scrambled eggs are creamy and luxurious, made with patience and a watchful eye, reminiscent of weekend mornings spent in bed.

I’m currently reading Nigel Slater’s brilliant Real Fast Food, and in typical Nigel Slater fashion, he says, “Friends and family must wait for their scrambled eggs, not, most emphatically not, the other way round.” So, first of all, if you are going to make scrambled eggs after reading this post, you and whoever you’re serving should be ready to devour said eggs the minute it leaves the stove.

Next, your eggs should be as fresh as possible, with a gorgeous high-standing bright yellow yolk. If they’ve been sitting on your kitchen counter for a week, you should be making hard-boiled eggs or an omelette instead. Also, use a small saucepan with a thick base instead of a frying pan – it distributes the heat better, and lessens the chance of your eggs overcooking.

Break your eggs into a cold saucepan – I find having just 2 eggs is a little stingy, so go with 3, or, if you’re worried about doctor’s orders, split 5 between two people. Eggs and butter go together like Marley and reggae, so throw a knob of salted butter in there as well. Put the pan over gentle heat – I use the smallest burner turned to the lowest heat possible.

Now, at this point, you can go one of two ways, depending how much forearm strength you’re willing to use today. The first one, with a spatula, is less tiresome, where you stir the way Gordon does his, while taking the pan off the heat here and there until it cooks.

The second method is one I’ve taken up recently, and it takes much more effort than you’d expect for such a simple dish. Here, your eggs are whisked into submission – about 4-5 continuous minutes or so of it with a French whisk over low heat, making sure nothing sticks to the bottom and sides of the pan. When tiny curds begin to form, remove it from the heat and add a little bit more cold butter, whisking even more till the butter melts. The delicate pile of scrambled eggs you get at the end has no need for any embellishments (although of course you can top it with chives, or some truffle oil), and it melts so beautifully in your mouth that you will be tempted to ignore cholesterol warnings and make yourself another serve of it.

That, my friends, is how you should begin the weekend. Have a good one.

Their perfect Urbanspoon score reflects the meal I had there, and I feel no need to add any more wordy commentary about the quality of the food or the service there. Instead, this post will be a simple gallery of the menu we were served, and you will have to imagine for yourself the heady mutterings of “ohmygodthisissogood”, the sound of eager spoons desperately scraping down the sides of bowls, and the restraint that each photo was taken with which resulted in a 10-second delay of devouring what was placed on the table.

Our group of 12 had a 8-course degustation meal (with 2 additional surprise freebies), and I’m pretty sure that apart from some unfinished rice, every remnant of sauce or vinaigrette was downed with a flourish, and even though by the end of the night I was stuffed from eating more meat than I had consumed the whole week before, I would have gladly downed another 8 dishes.

Omakase Menu ($49):

Click to view slideshow.
Kaki Katsu – Crumbed Rock Oyster, Tobiko & Shichimi Lime Mayo

Tataki – Seared Harvey Scotch, garlic chips, grated daikon, ginger & ponzu vinaigrette

Chawan-Mushi

Kamo Filo – Kellyville duck breast, caramelized onion & sweet miso sauce

Sashimi – Freo kingfish, Tasmanian salmon and Hokkaido scallops

Sushi – Lightly torched Tasmanian Salmon belly sushi roll with unagi kabayaki

Yakimono – Teppanyaki gilled Harvey tenderloin, assorted mushroom & nori oil

Matcha Brulee – Green tea creme brulee

If the photos are not convincing enough: Each piece of produce is treated with utmost respect and cooked to pillowy perfection, none of the dishes could be faulted for having too much or too little seasoning, and there was a delicate balance of flavour that reflected the chef’s keen understanding and experience of Japanese cuisine. Even the garnishes were lovingly produced, all the more impressive considering there’s only ONE chef in the kitchen pumping every dish out.

As an aspiring cook with my own food dream, I am in absolute awe of him, and can’t help but be a little envious. It’s the concept of the home-cooked meal around the table taken to a whole other level – he basically gets to cook what he wants every night, for a set group of people, without feeling the stress of being in a professional kitchen. I left the meal feeling absolutely inspired not just to cook a specific dish (I absolutely must try replicating that matcha creme brulee), but with that warm fuzzy feeling of what food around the table should actually be all about.

Food – 10/10, Service/Ambience – NA (Their service and set-up is simple and unpretentious, and trying to score it according to how I usually would detract from the overall quality of the place.)

Shop 2, Beasley Rd
Leeming

(08) 9310 8255

Open for dinner from Tuesday to Sunday, usual menu price is $35 with an additional $1.50 for corkage or green tea. Bookings only - 

The saying goes that time flies when you’re having fun, but thankfully enough, I’ve found it to be true as well for when there’s not much fun to be had at all.

July has flown by quicker than I expected, and I’m surprised that I’ve already been in my new Supervisory job role for a full month. It’s taking some hard adjustments trying to get used to a forty-hour work week (not counting another 3 hours of daily travel time), and I’m trying not to let the physical exhaustion of food service get to me. While I’m thankful to be working, I do miss having that spare day to whip up a whole menu in the kitchen.

I’m also just starting to learn how sacred a free Saturday morning is. Since Saturday is the busiest work day I have, the chances of getting a day off on one is slim to none. Since I had a night shift my last Saturday, I took the chance to return to one of my old Saturday morning routines – grabbing a takeaway Vetkoek burger from Kalahari Foods.

Kalahari Foods is a South African grocery store hidden in the industrial area off High Road in the Riverton/ Willetton area. Although it originally started off as a tiny food store stocking African products like Rooibos Tea and traditional spices, they recently extended their space to include a larger cafe area. Although their store is open weekdays as well, the hours between 10am and 3pm on a Saturday are special time at Kalahari foods – that’s when you can get one of these babies for $5.

One thing’s for sure – the traditional Afrikan pastry Vetkoek (pronounced fet-cook and literally meaning “fat cake”) is not for you if you’re the type to shy away from deep-fried goodness. The dough is deep-fried, and filled with some ground beef, minced onions, cheddar, and a single slice of tomato (for that little bit of nutritional merit).

It’s as simple as simple gets when it comes to hamburgers – but the umami-ness of it makes it a mouthwateringly good meal on the go. I’m glad it’s only available one day a week – any more than that and my waistline and cholesterol level would be suffering. The quality of the Vetkoeks at Kalahari can be inconsistent – one week, it can be out of this world good, but be hit-or-miss the next, but at that price it’s worth taking the chance!

I also had the Bunnychow ($8), another South African fast food dish consisting of a hollowed out bread loaf filled with mutton curry that Kalahari recently introduced to their weekend menu. I was a little disappointed with this one – the meat was too chewy and the curry flavoursome but lacking anything to cut through its richness, but for that price and for the size of the serving, I don’t think a regular Aussie bloke will be doing any complaining.

In addition, Kalahari also features Rooibos tea strongly in their drinks menu, offering things like Rooibos espressos, cappuccinos, and iced teas for the usual prices ($3.50 – $4.20). They also make their own biltong on site.

Kalahari is run by Fritz and Julienne Arnold, an immensely friendly couple who obviously want to bring their beautiful South African culture to Perth. Although being mainly a grocery store, many of the customers tend to be in and out in a second, but the extended store offers a nice welcoming space to sit in while waiting for your vetkoek to cook. I’ll say the best thing to do is to get there early on a Saturday morning, grab several to go, cross your fingers it’s a good batch, and head to the nearby Shelley foreshore for a picnic.

Food/Drinks – 6/10, Service/Ambience – 8/10

U4/27 Augusta Street,

Willetton

(08) 9354 1222

Open Mondays to Saturdays, Vetkoeks and Bunnychows available on Saturday 10am to 3pm.