Category Archives: local

Real life on the ground. Anywhere.

Food conference: Out of the Frying Pan

The Melbourne Food and Wine Festival held its first ‘Out of the Frying Pan’ talkfest last year and has repeated the event in 2008. It’s goal is to bring together industry and media to talk about issues (which can be interpreted in many ways). This sort of thing can be a mixed bag when there are so many not-quite-overlapping points of interest and last year’s was an odd mix of industry discussion and wannabe cookbook writers. This year there seemed to be more media representatives but less industry (chefs, producers, PR people) and though the focus was better, perhaps, the format rather undid it.

‘Global Food Trends’ was the opening session, moderated by prominent food media personage Joanna Savill, with panellists Bénédict Beaugé (www.miam-miam.com), William Sitwell (Editor, Waitrose Food Illustrated magazine), Gabrielle Hamilton (www.prunerestaurant.com), and Oriol Balaguer (stunning Spanish pastry chef, www.oriolbalaguer.com).

After a very long opening by Tourism Minister, Jacinta Allen (welcome to our Fantastic state where everything is Fantastic and especially in Fantastic Melbourne which is Fantastic just like the Fantastic Food and Fantastic producers and oh-my-god-shut-up-already), the panel was asked to start talking about the trends they could see. William Sitwell promptly established that his strongest card seems to be strong, pompous generalisations about anything he doesn’t like, taking cynical sneering to a level beyond Hugh-Grant-character-knobbishness. It started okay (ubiquity of food experiences, London as gastronomic capital of the world (ho, ho), exhausting rise in ethical issues facing consumers), but once he got onto hire-in home chefs, molecular gastronomy, seasonality, dégustation menus, and — watch out — the utter stupidity of bloggers… Tiresome.

Gabrielle Hamilton was a refreshingly grounded voice, honest and clear, but not afraid of stating her (often enjoyable) opinions. It was interesting to hear her concerns about the extreme casualisation of the dining experience in New York, with stemless glassware, placemats and a multitude of small dishes (‘the tasting menu is the chef’s most timid foot forward’) replacing the traditional dining format. And we mustn’t forget the ‘servers who you can’t tell from the customers’ as the staff become ever more casual too. Refreshingly honest about her own cooking too, she freely admitted that the idea of buying high-quality, prepped basic ingredients at a store is attractive to her as a tired working mother.

Bénédict Beaugé talked about the French perspective, where choice is also becoming a problem and people are seeking more comfortable dining options — the drawcard of the traditional.

Finally, one of my food idols, Oriol Balaguer, was asked about the concept of ‘tecnoemoción’, coined or implied by a Spanish journalist Pau Arenós to refer to the artistry-formerly-known-as molecular gastronomy. I’m sure Balaguer gets asked this stuff very frequently, especially as he spent time at El Bulli earlier in his career. Putting the concept to one side for the moment, he mentioned (in Spanish, with interpreter) that there is a growing interest in Spain in traditional products and cuisine, perhaps with an emphasis on higher quality. But there is also an increased incorporation of quality or artisanal produce into processed foods. He also described an increase in ambition in the types and styles of tapas, with new ingredients and techniques. He didn’t seem to have much time for the term tecnoemoción, but it was unclear to me whether this was terminological or conceptual. (The idea is, in essence, that technology can be a vehicle for creating food which evokes emotion/excitement.)

Other snippets from this session: wine can often spoil a dégustation because it interferes with tasting dishes and matching wines to every dish overburdens the senses and disturbs the meal (Beaugé, Balaguer). Farmers around New York are forming supplier consortia to make sourcing a range of ingredients easier for chefs. Chefs aren’t necessarily exploiting this resource (Hamilton). The enduring intellectual animosity towards molecular gastronomy (Sitwell, audience members) is sad. I feel the chefs in this movement lost control of the message so long ago and it’s a pity. (Note: no rants against mol-gastro/tecnoemoción in the comments please unless you’ve actually tried some and thought about it.)

The second session I attended was called ‘Future Food, Future Food Media’, focusing on how industry professionals (chefs, publishers) use the internet to promote themselves or provide a service. Panellists were Luc Dubanchet (www.ominvore.fr), Bénédict Beaugé again, Gilles Choukroun (www.gilleschoukroun.com), and the Spanish-speaking Balaguer. A very mixed range of issues, including monetising content, creating an image, using a site as an interface with visitors, online and offline publishing and more. What was becoming clear, however, was that chefs are not strongly in touch with the internet as a concept or tool, relying on others to act as their agents, protectors, promoters online.

The third session for me was ‘Web 2.0. How to blog and how not to blog’. I was there out of curiosity really, to see who would turn up and to be part of the Melbourne blogging contingent. The panel was Jackie Middleton (eatingwithjack.blogspot.com), Ed Charles (tomatom.com), Simon Johanson (The Age online), and Stephanie Wood (elegantsufficiency.typepad.com). It was a bit unfocused and I don’t think it addressed either part of the title well. The choice of ‘Web 2.0’ was almost guaranteed to scare the uninitiated off. The audience was very thin and included people who weren’t clear about what a blog was, let alone how to do it. Comments by Stephanie Wood riled some members of the audience, in particular the presumption that bloggers (in toto) don’t write well, are ignorant, can spread falsehoods and so much more. Indeed, as a follow-up, she has already posted on her own site, restating even more strongly her position. I’ll let it speak for itself. There are too many points to be teased apart for an intelligent discussion here.

It’s a great pity that so many sessions of strong interest were scheduled in parallel. Almost everyone seemed to agree that they were having to miss two or even three other interesting discussions. I would much rather not have wasted time in the Web 2.0 session (no reflection on the panel really), but it’s that toss up between hope, solidarity and guesswork. I hope others will write about other sessions.

The final session of the day, curiously without any parallel sessions, was ‘The Future of Drinking’. Clearly, many people weren’t so thrilled and left before it began. It was a relaxed and surprisingly interesting affair, looking at products, markets, importation vs local production, drinking habits and licensing issues. I’m glad I stayed for half of it.

Money well spent? No, not really. Although last year felt less diverse, this year’s schedule made it much harder to extract value from what was on offer. A real pity.

UPDATE: Other bloggers are commenting on Tomato, Confessions of a Food Nazi and Deep Dish Dreams.

Does Slow Food know its audience and goals?

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Melbourne is alive with the annual Melbourne Food and Wine Festival. A special event as part of the two-week festival is ‘A Taste of Slow’, held this weekend. There aren’t a lot of spoken word events at the Festival; there are a lot of interesting demonstrations, classes and dining experiences. By ‘spoken word’ I of course mean something more than ‘this is how you cook ingredient X’ — I’m looking for something more intellectually stimulating than that.

Three years ago, the Festival held a number of interesting panel discussions in conjunction with a trade fair (Fine Food) and the level of information and discussion was reasonably good. Since then, my memory tells me that the only spoken word affairs have been on the Slow Food side of things. Nothing wrong with that per se, but the topics for discussion are narrowed by the simple fact that Slow Food has specific things it wants to talk about and it attracts certain types of people.

That was a rather long preamble to a long comment about some of this year’s spoken word events. I attended two of yesterday’s sessions:

  • What is Slow Food?
  • Wellbeing and pleasure

I came away with a numb bum and the feeling that Slow Food is still failing to get its message across or perhaps even to know what its message is.

The events actually started on Friday evening, with a keynote by Greg Critser about his book ‘Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World’ and the reactions to it. I had to miss this due to a more important commitment, but in hindsight it’s a pity, because this talk seems to indicate a new direction for Slow Food.

The first Saturday session, ‘What is Slow Food?’ was billed as:

Did you know that Slow Food supports a gastronomic university and a foundation for saving rare and endangered foods? Speaking from personal experiences, members of the Australian Slow Food movement, Daniela Mollica, Bob MacLennan and Christine Bond explore the concepts and projects that ate at the heart of the Slow philosophy.

If it had started on time, my bum wouldn’t have got as numb on the attractive but really rather hard seats in the BMW Edge auditorium at Federation Square. Mistress of Ceremonies, radio personality Helen Razer, thought she was being funny when she hoped ‘that everyone had travelled here at snail’s pace’. The organisers certainly had.

Daniela Mollica gave us a bit of her resumé, talked about her rare-breed cattle (Chianina), and provided a brief history of Slow Food in Melbourne and the Convivium (local chapter) that she helped found. She’s aware of many of the issues which concern Slow Food and the misconceptions about what Slow Food is, and she covered many points in an attempt to make a few things clear.

Bob MacLennan (Brisbane) talked about the ‘Ark of Taste’ which acts as a sort of registry for endangered traditional foods. He told us a little about the four Australian foods in the Ark (bunyanuts, bullboar sausages, leatherwood honey, Kangaroo Island Honey), showed us a mini-documentary about the breeders of mangalica pigs in Hungary and the starting of ‘Presidia’ (quality control projects), and then some film of initiation rites in Papua New Guinea. The latter was ostensibly relevant to his mention of giant yams, but the focus drifted.

Christine Bond (Darwin/Top End) started off by talking about food and history in the Top End but rapidly moved to telling us all about her Convivium’s activities and the practicalities of setting up and running a Convivium. At times it verged on the irrelevant for a Festival audience. Finally, we heard that her Convivium runs basic cookery classes. A noble endeavour, but it begs the question whether 99% of cookery books and classes are therefore ‘slow’.

It’s difficult running a movement-profile session when much of your audience might already know what Slow Food is, but others may have come because they knew nothing. A diverse audience requires a bit more than this hodgepodge. ‘Convivium’ was defined eventually. ‘Ark of Taste’ wasn’t explained fully, if I recall correctly, and the mysterious ‘Presidia’ suffered grammatically and conceptually. I don’t know if the speakers were given a clear brief, but after Daniela’s fairly good start it became less and less clear what the session wanted to achieve. As it was running so late, there was no chance for audience participation either — it would have been interesting to see why people attended and what they really wanted to know.

The second Saturday session, ‘Wellbeing and pleasure’, was described as:

Author Sherry Strong explains how slow, local and organic were never fads in nature, but simply the most convenient way to eat. Jane Dixon discusses how the supermarkets have weighed in on the debate about healthy eating. Chef Tony Chiodo demonstrates how easy it is to savour the simple pleasures of fresh, seasonal and healthy food.

And then it ran off the rails a bit. I didn’t expect to hear clichés about obesity and culture, or endure junk science and scare-mongering. That’s what we got to listen to.

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Jane Dixon’s well structured talk (an academic with a clear Powerpoint presentation) started interestingly, looking at the conundrum of supermarkets offering healthy convenience food and, more broadly, the oft-ignored fact that supermarkets have offered a lot of improvements for our health and diet. It was inevitable that these topics would be left underexplored in a fairly short presentation with a diverse audience, but I wished there was a little more information beyond the very general facts.

However, Dixon then wheeled out a few clichés which work well with a sympathetic audience but leave a bad taste if you think about them:

  • she placed interesting emphasis on ‘supermarket aisles full of fruit juices with their sugars’ and that set off an alarm because part of the obesity-crisis lobby is currently targeting fruit juice as a villain.
  • She then cited a study showing that time spent in one’s car is linked to obesity (and supermarkets cause us to sit in our cars).
  • Then we had the ‘Europeans value quality over quantity’ claptrap — that’s right, France has no burger chains full of adults and teens, French cheese isn’t heavy on fat, and the ever-popular ‘formules’ (set menus) aren’t too large and nutritionally unbalanced.

Somewhere close to the end we heard the wonderfully incongruous ‘food is fuel now’ (as opposed to in the good old times when women slaved at the stove churning out meals for their (presumably not always taste-interested) husbands and children to eat, or (heavens!) when people had access to barely any dietary variety and of course were stone-soup gourmets as they dined in their medieval huts). Food is just ‘fuel’ now, yet we spend so much time talking about it, dining out, trying new food fads, falling victim to gourmet-product markups… ??

Sherry Strong’s talk was passionate and well rehearsed, but in the way an evangelist spreads a message through motivating or scaring and choosing their rhetoric very carefully.

‘The further we deviate from nature, the sicker, bigger we’re getting.’ ‘In nature you’d never think to store an apple for twelve months or to cover it in chemicals.’

I’d love a definition of what ‘nature’ is in this sort of empty argumentation. Individual overweight humans have been observed for quite a large part of history. Preserving food using almost any technique and useful substance available isn’t exactly new. Burying food stuffs or storing them in caves to get through long cold (or hot) periods is simply the precursor to the cold cabinet.

Perhaps the absolute stunner for the day was the broad-stroke assertion that processing things with chemicals makes them dangerous to you. Let me paraphrase closely: No-one has an addiction to poppy seeds, but look what happens when you make heroin out of them. Now think about all that over-processed oil and refined sugar. Oh my god. I think I need one of those Jamie Oliver ‘Flavour Shakers’ — I’d fill it with powdered nuance and sprinkle it liberally.

On a lighter note, pleasant and likeable chef Tony Chiodo chatted about health and healthy eating and whipped up two soups.

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I’m sure there are lots of people caught up in the ideology being spruiked in this session and who would have agreed wholeheartedly with what was being said. By its very nature, Slow Food must attract people concerned about issues, but it can also serve an educative role. So much of the public discourse about food and eating exploits fears, misconceptions and rose-tinted nostalgia to persuade people to believe. Was this what the organisers of A Taste of Slow wanted in this session?

Across these two sessions, there was interesting information provided and points for discussion raised, but I felt the weaknesses were embarrassing. Spoken word events could be used to inform, explain, elaborate and challenge, but instead the first session was poorly thought out and the second (and perhaps other parts of the program as a whole) seem to be a path of ideology. It worries me, particularly, that the obesity-crisis lobby is gaining a voice under the Slow Food banner. I don’t see what legitimate role obesity clichés have within a movement that is meant to focus positively on food and cultural tradition. Daniela Mollica ended her talk by saying that Slow Food was about being ‘inclusive and positive, not exclusive and negative’, but those values will be hard to maintain if people who spend their time obsessing about negatives (evil supermarkets, evil industry, evil scientists, evil processed food) are embraced without question by Slow Food.

Bloggers’ banquet, Melbourne

Last night (12 Nov) saw a get-together of some of the Melbourne foodblogging population. What a lovely bunch! I arrived late due to work commitments, so a good deal of the savoury edibilia had already been lifted from the long long table of goodies which people had (mostly) cooked up. The pics (from other bloggers) show all the stuff I missed and one or two that I actually got to sample. It was great to put names and faces to the people behind Eating with Jack, Deep Dish Dreams, The Day of the Expanding Man, Melbourne Gastronome, A Goddess in the Kitchen, Where’s the Beef, Vida, Get Real!, 1001 Dinners 1001 Nights, Ned-with-impending-blog and numerous others who I didn’t get to do more than smile at.

My own contribution to the long long table of goodies was a box of salted caramel macarons (macarons being a type of almond meringue, properly known as macarons de Paris, with two discs sandwiching a creamy filling of any flavour you might like). The photo is, alas, not mine, but sourced from the photos others took of the Bloggers’ Banquet.

– DM

On chocolate, child slavery and a newspaper

Something interesting is going on at The Age newspaper in Melbourne. In the space of eight days, the newspaper has published two pieces about slavery in the West African cocoa growing industry. In September it also published a piece about this issue by a prominent Christian activist and anti-slavery campaigner from Britain, Steve Chalke.

Oddly, The Age’s sister publication in Sydney, the Sydney Morning Herald, has published none of these. Nor have competing newspapers shown any interest at all in the cocoa+slavery issue (I’ve searched through the News Limited stable, including news.com.au).

ABC radio has done one piece in the last six years, and that was an interview on The Religion Report with the same British campaigner on 26 September this year. I’m not aware of any television reports (certainly none at the ABC).

I’m wary of campaigners and bandwagons, and was therefore rather suspicious of The Age’s sudden repeated interest in the issue. I haven’t yet found a particular source for the information repeated in the articles, so although it might smell of press-release journalism, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Are we dealing with (1) a newspaper driven campaign, (2) familiar sloppy editorial control, or (3) a successful lobbying campaign which is only finding resonance at The Age? The issue of slavery in the cocoa industry is not new by any means (most of the material you’ll find out there relates to studies and media reports from the late 1990s/early 2000s. There have also been initiatives to combat slavery at an industry level and from other, especially religious, organisations. Many Australian religious organisations (Caritas, Salvation Army, etc) have cocoa+slavery material on their websites and do appear to have been concentrating on chocolate this year (and Hughes is known to write on issues of interest to Catholic organisations). I would venture a guess that this is because of, in part, the Stop the Traffik campaign led by the abovementioned Steve Chalke.

Why now? I haven’t found any new findings or comments about deterioration in the industry. In fact, it seems that there are indications of a reduction in (and/or original overstatement of) the levels of slavery since the first reports 5-10 years ago. It has also been found that, although slavery definitely exists in the West African cocoa industry, the vast majority (over 90%) of the children being forced to work are not slaves but instead local family members. That’s an issue of child labour. A report (Nkamleu and Kielland, 2006) prepared as part of the UN/ILO assessment of child labour in the cocoa industry observed that more than 50% of children (6-17yo) in farmer families in Côte d’Ivoire were involved in the cocoa production process, many of them in hazardous activities.

The piece in The Age by Steve Chalke deliberately confounds slavery and child labour. Juliette Hughes’s piece does little other than to say ‘hey there are some ethical issues here’, while the piece by Carmel Egan also mixes up slavery and child labour, though actually states figures which show the difference in numbers.

I’m not writing this to engage in a debate about the morality of eating chocolate — clearly there are enough people out there telling us not to, unless it’s Fairtrade (or equivalent) — but instead to draw attention to the sudden attention the slavery issue is getting in one newspaper. If anyone can throw any light on what’s going on, I’d be very interested.

– DM

Review: Interlude Restaurant, Melbourne

What do you do when you find dinner too enjoyable? How is an irritable, jinxed diner like me to cope with a meal which delivers no disappointments and offers barely a scrap to quibble about? I felt embarrassed at how effusive I was. I sat through the meal thinking of all the people I needed to tell.

This might look like a puff-piece (an advertorial), especially as I dined as a guest of the establishment, but I assure you it isn’t.

Interlude, at 211 Brunswick Street, Fitzroy (Melbourne, Australia), has attracted attention for chef Robin Wickens’s use of avant garde cooking techniques and for the food he produces. I came to Interlude because of the techniques, while preparing an article on modernist cookery (oft confused with the concept ‘molecular gastronomy‘, see here for the contrast) in Melbourne. Earlier in the year I had dined at one of the temples of this new cookery, Heston Blumenthal’s The Fat Duck, and was prepared for a similar experience at Interlude (though hopefully slightly less theatrical). The Fat Duck review can be found by clicking here.

The meal comprised of fourteen dishes, of which four were sweet. The use of sous-vide, gelling, dehydration and other techniques is interesting and exploited well. I am deliberately not going to provide comprehensive detail about the dishes, and nor will there be photos. Imagine and then try the food yourself (or don’t). One of the banes of any chef’s existence is the expectation created by detailed reviews of specific dishes.

The food

It started with some lattice potato crisps and beer nuts. The crisps were delicious (though eventually went soggy, as homemade crisps are wont to do) and the peanuts tasted of beer. A nice touch, but also one that led me to anticipate more surprises later.

A chestnut dish with elements that many might expect to be sweet, but which were in fact distinctly savoury. It was rich and almost overwhelming. I wondered if this would be a continuing problem.

Grits with buffalo wings (a type of chicken dish for those who don’t know the term). No trickery. Not really. But the novelty of Mexican truffle was interesting. (Mexican truffle is really huitlacoche or ‘corn smut‘, which is much less likely to succeed on a menu!)

Lamb with coffee. Let’s just say it involved an atomiser. I’d had the atomisation thing done to me before (at the Fat Duck), with ‘Essence of Lime Grove’ being sprayed over the table. At Interlude the diner gets to self-administer the spray, with the unintended result that my wardrobe smells of coffee.

Like cauliflower purée through a straw… one of Wickens’s better known dishes is a glass tube of four flavours. I don’t know how successful this is. I watched four other diners ‘eat’ this dish, and most sucked and swallowed with barely an olfactory moment intervening. A pity. If you happen to go to Interlude, please let the contents of the tube dwell a while on your tongue.

Jerusalem artichoke soup. Very welcome on a cold Melbourne night. Combined beautifully with brussel sprouts and tonka beans, amongst other flavours.

Squab breast with quinoa, black treacle and blackberry. Perhaps the only dish where I thought the balance of flavours was off. It tasted fine, but the squab lost the battle.

Aged sirloin and rib meat. A whimsical presentation but serious food. Look carefully at the onion rings.

Venison with celeriac cream. Without doubt the most ‘mature’ dish of my meal. I would gladly have eaten this many times over. I began to wonder what it would be like to dine à la carte at Interlude.

Energy drink. Okay, it tasted like those effervescent indigestion salts. Lemony and tangy and fizzy. Not a winner for me. Certainly zaps your palate clean though!

Piña colada in a spoon. Heaven – though only if you have a soft spot for piña colada (me).

There’s something wonderful about a table set with three dessert spoons and three dessert forks. Per person! A dessert lover’s utopia?

Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb. And a touch of cashew. But not a lump of rhubarb in sight. Whereas the savoury courses had, for the most part, used new cooking techniques for practical purposes and with obvious result, the desserts seemed to use these techniques to more entertaining or surprising effect. The difference between Robin Wickens on savoury and Pierre Roelofs on sweet?

If I tell you that the next dish comprised of the flavours parsnip, apple, vinegar, rosemary and date, and that these were presented as lumps, ice-cream, puffs, cream, cubes and crisps, would you be able to work out which ingredient took which form? It hardly matters when it tastes so good.

The third dessert consisted of sago, vanilla, pink grapefruit, almond, rosewater and yuzu. As long as you like rosewater, this is a fresh, clever dish. Less fussy that the previous dessert, but just as impressive.

And a surprise fourth dessert which leaves you wondering how a doughnut can be distilled into an ice-cream. A touch of whimsy to end the meal. I almost wished it had preceded the more sophisticated desserts, but I concede it would be a cute lead in to a digestif coffee or the like.

[I’m sure I’ve missed at least one dish, but hey, you get the picture!]

Conclusion

This is sophisticated, clever food without a hint of patronising the diner or prioritising tricks over gustatory enjoyment. I don’t know how well it works à la carte because, as with all dishes that are in some way novel, there’s a risk that the satiation-value of a meal is underplayed. I don’t know how large the à la carte portions are, but I did see a table devour theirs very very quickly. Customers were not all dining there for the food experience, but all seemed to be aware that their meal might challenge preconceptions (positively).

It seems on the face of it that one of the three dégustation options is a better bet. The meal I had was something like the largest dégustation menu (17 dishes, A$175 without wine). I believe a diner would probably come away from that menu feeling that the meal had been worth it. Just as an aside, the wines were excellent matches to most dishes.

A final note: If you go looking for lay reviews of Interlude, you will occasionally find complaints that the dishes were ‘too salty’. I was perplexed by this before I went, not understanding how a number of diners could have a similar complaint over a period of time, yet the restaurant has regular received high praise in the food media. Having now eaten at Interlude, I think I understand the problem. Well, it isn’t a problem, as far as I’m concerned. I think Robin Wickens’s cooking presents a strong umami profile across all of the savoury dishes. Umami is the fifth ‘savoury’ sense, often written about in association with Japanese cuisine and associated with the presence of glutamates which give a ’rounder’ or ‘fuller’ flavour sensation. Mushrooms, cheeses, meat, meat stocks and a number of other foods fall into this category. Wickens’s dishes are fantastically umamamami, but not in a monotonous one-note sense. These dishes were complex and full. The problem? I would guess that diners who aren’t familiar with this sort of flavour landscape, or who perhaps prefer flatter or less orchestrated flavours, will associate the umami with saltiness.

Another glowing description of Interlude can be found at Morsels & Musings.

The restaurant

Interlude Restaurant
211 Brunswick Street
Fitzroy VIC 3065
Tel: 03 9415 7300

Note that Interlude will be moving to a new city location in the middle of 2008.

– DM

Some disappointments don’t need naming

Today I visited a place-that-serves-fancy-cakes. It will not be named. To name it might encourage people to visit it. That would put money in coffers which don’t seem to deserve it.

Sometimes you want to read an honest review to help make a decision (visit/not-visit) or to know how to approach an establishment. But occasionally I just don’t want to so much as plant the seed of curiosity.

I was recently tipped off about a new fancy-cake-place in Melbourne. Allegedly popular and probably good. It was the sort of tip you might embrace with exuberant expectation, but which history has taught you to approach circumspectly for fear of desperate disappointment.

It’s très très chic. It’s got the look. These cakes are under glass, not behind glass (no tacky cake-shop cabinets here). You might think yourself transported to a Pierre Hermé or Jean-Paul Hévin boutique, given all the straight lines and shiny surfaces.

My real focus was the food, but my darting eyes almost darted over the sweet things. Honey, they’ve shrunk the cakes! I had found myself in a fancy-cake-boutique. The diminutive items are labelled with small squares of card, printed rather than written. There are no prices.

No prices. That really annoys me. It’s rare to see such an exquisitely arrogant conceit in Australia. I would normally turn on my heel and leave, but I had set my mind to tasting their fancy-cake-boutique wares. The très petits wares were attractive and, given their blushingly modest dimensions, seemed to promise (1) quality, and (2) sticker-shock (except they were, after all, sans stickers).

A little lemon tart (perhaps 7 cm diameter, sloped sides) was $5. A modest hazelnut and chocolate millefeuille (perhaps 8 cm long, 3 cm wide) was $6.50. Not so shocking, to be fair (all is relative: I’m taking into account target clientele, visuals and snobbery).

Lemon tart: the undistinguished pastry was too thick; the lemon curd lacked zing and clarity of aroma, despite tasting of decent ingredients. We’re not in France, Toto.

Hazelnut-chocolate millefeuille: a bit of a mish mash of chocolate, gianduja, hazelnuts in caramel and more. The gianduja was a little too soft and sweet under a layer of chocolate to permit a clean bite. The hazelnuts were soft (How old was the cake? How long had the nuts been sitting in caramel?) and tasted less than fresh. An unfortunate final touch was one bad hazelnut — not the pastry chef’s fault.

You encounter places like this all over the world. Usually with a premium or a decent dose of snob. The concept looks like the genuine article, the presentation is excellent and any lover of the real thing will be beguiled for a moment. If my sampling is representative of the gamut of their wares, the seduction should be short-lived. A pity. There are other (too few) places in Melbourne doing better for both higher and lower prices (visible) and without quite the same pretence.

As the establishment is, I believe, a corporate vehicle rather than a pastry chef’s project, I don’t know if the chef has been forced to create and pitch the wares in a regrettable direction — there’s clearly talent in the kitchen, despite my misgivings about the product and setting. I’m sure the place will be a hit. Dommage.

– DM

Review – Botanical, by Paul Wilson

Botanical front cover

Botanical: Inside the iconic brasserie. Recipes by Paul Wilson. Photography by William Meppem. (2007: Hardie Grant Books, Melbourne.) RRP AUD 85

Overview: An impressive ‘chef’s book’ by respected Melbourne chef Paul Wilson, Botanical is both a serious cookbook and a self-congratulatory piece about the restaurant (the Botanical). Intended for serious home cooks or other chefs, this is perhaps the first local heavy-duty ‘chef’s book’ Australia has seen, with recipes often encompassing many steps and long lists of ingredients. (It’s possible Tetsuya competes in detail — I haven’t been able to look at a copy to compare.)

Botanical photography 1

Good bits: The recipes are interesting and span an impressive range. Emphasis is placed on local ingredients. Excellent design and photography. Another feather in the hat of the publishers Hardie Grant.

Recipe examples: wood-roasted calamari with chorizo sausage, olives and smoked paprika; gingerbread hotcakes with caramelised pineapple; slow-roasted beef blade over organic baby beetroots with red wine and beetroot sauce; grapefruit tart with sauternes jelly.

Botanical photography 4Botanical photography 3

Bad bits: One clanger: the ‘Conversions’ page (p18) lists a tablespoon as being 15ml, which it definitely isn’t in Australia (20ml). The publishers assure me that the error will be fixed in the next print run. Australians can ignore the typo, while overseas readers will just find some things a little underflavoured.

I feel the book needed tighter editing. The introduction, history of the restaurant, etc, are overly long and a touch repetitive, reading too much like a piece of untempered self-congratulation. Chris Lucas (the owner former owner) gets to write a recommendation of Riedel glassware in the section on wine and that seems out of place in this sort of volume.

A set of ingredient notes makes clear that flat-leaf parsley is the variety to be used in all recipes, but then every recipe with parsley re-states that it is ‘flat-leaf parsley’, making the original note unnecessary.

Wilson’s passion for the best produce is admirable, but comments like ‘make a worthwhile investment by buying real buffalo milk mozzarella’ overlook the fact that the variable quality of Australian mozzarella (shaggy moo or normal moo) can make it an extremely bad investment on some days. Commentary on the recipes is also too loose sometimes.

Botanical photography 2

Comments: Most of my negatives are unimportant when it comes to the cooking itself, thankfully. It’s about time we saw a local book of this calibre in Australia! It won’t be for everyone (because of the ambition it requires), and it certainly reflects Paul Wilson’s style — solid classical cookery with modern flourishes, complex restaurant dishes, frequent nods to cuisines of the Mediterranean, and an affection for quail eggs, truffles and local seafood. This is an attractive large-format volume (almost 30x30cm) and I dread to think how many people will use it as a coffee table piece rather than actually cooking from it.

– DM

Links:

to order Botanical, by Paul Wilson Books for Cooks AU | Amazon UK