Just 4 weeks old, Absinthe Salon is a brand spankin’ new joint in Surry Hills that has just enough boho chic plus interesting novelty factor to be a hip place to visit just because.
Open from 4pm to 10pm Tuesday to Sunday, it seats 30 people max which keeps it small and cosy and intensely friendly. We actually got there at 10:10 but the owner still let us in for one drink each. Super nice of them. They also were totally nice, informative and completely unpretentious.
I like that they also close at 10pm. Which deters the drunk allsorts you might get at other bars. This adds onto the lovely atmosphere where alcohol induced conversation can tend to a more sentient type that differs from talk of tits and ass. Another nice touch is the semi boho decor with a fake palm leaf in the corner plus the damask wallpaper and nice black and white rattan chairs or the fact that each table had a completely different water drip thingamajig for the absinthe and different glasses for each person.
I also got totally schooled in absinthe appreciation. The 3 main ingredients of wormwood, fennel and green anise and that you don’t actually flambe that shit. You let the tap on a slow drip to dissolve some sugar and “louche” the absinthe. Totally cool shit that whilst novel, also has the weight of culture and history attached to it. I also appreciated that cliches that I’m totally used to and think of like van Gogh are completely abstained from. They actually only talk about the absinthe, which also happened to be superb.
We got to try 4 different ones. 2 Swiss, 1 French and a superbly interesting Spanish one with eccentric herbal, floral notes. The French was a flat anise flavor. One Swiss was alcohol and alcohol and the other Swiss was a very chuggable median absinthe. That last one also happened to be my glass, hehe.
Totally recommended if you’re around the area and up for some glorious laughs and convo.
Absinthe Salon 87 Albion Street Surry Hills NSW 2010 02 9211 6632Bill Granger’s breakfast is an iconic Sydney experience. The popular TV chef has got like 3000 stores all over Darlinghurst, Surry Hills and Woollahra as well as a new joint in Japan. Famous for his scrambled eggs, sweet corn fritters and ricotta hotcakes, it seemed to be providence that decided I would be in a party of 3, able to savour each individual delight.
Is the hype worth it? Well, Bill ain’t Ferran. He’s not doing anything drastically different. He is making great scrambled eggs, sweet corn fritters and ricotta hotcakes though. The restaurant itself and the whole lifestyle around it is what makes it great. We arrived at 10 or so, a popular time for peeps sleeping in on Sundays so we had to wait like 20 minutes but there were others in the same situation who seemed more than happy to do so. It’s lazy Sunday breakfast concept, only way steezier with the polished wood floors and well selected furniture and a nice big mirror. Walk in and you also get this large communal table where you can eat with strangers. There’s plenty chatter and a near tranquility to things.
Check out the nondescript little logo on the bottom of the window. That’s Bills and that’s it. It’s easy to dismiss it as a well dressed cafe but a sense of style and the ease of which things are carried out can turn an ordinary breakfast into an amazing one. Whilst I don’t think what I ate was supreme, it was really good. Really good. I had a chocolate that came with Callebaut buttons on the bottom and foamed milk on top that I stirred together. My brother had a sunrise drink with a berry twist to an OJ.
The scrambled eggs is famous. It’s got great texture, light, fluffy and breaks apart easily in the mouth. It’s a really good version of a dish that I always have trouble associating because a good scramble is so hard to define. I still don’t know what it really is but this has to be bloody close. If you have one dish here, get the scrambled eggs. It’s subtle, simple and very elegant in taste and texture. However, I think it’s really not that far away from most other cafes. They’re just a good notch or 3 above the competition. Definitely the best scrambled eggs I’ve had thus far.
Sweet Corn Fritters were great too. They came with some bacon and tomatoes and stuff. The fritter was fried nicely and tasted great, with lots of interesting bits and bobs inside. The dish itself is kinda unique, I suppose, for breakfast.
I actually had the hotcakes all to myself, whilst the other dishes I stole bits off my mom and bro’s plates. The ricotta hotcakes were light and fluffy, although it still retains this poofy pancake aspect that I tend to dislike, the fact that it alls gets too much halfway through. I believe the proper term is jelat. There was also a nice honeycomb butter although I don’t get the name. I mean, it ain’t a honeycomb if it ain’t got no honeycombs is it? It’s a caramelly syrup is what it is.
Overall, I thought the breakfast was good. Was it worth it? Maybe. If I was someone who lived around the place and could afford steezy brekkies, then maybe.
I’ve been trying to get my wine game up for ages. But it’s tough when you’re like, living alone. I typically dunk a bottle down across 2 nights in the name of research and I try to do like a bottle or two a week.
So far, I’ve had a horrendously insipid Beaujolais and a terribly bland Pinot, both stupidly overpriced around the $20 mark. Those were like the official DIY (drink it yourself) testing specimens. I can duly note that I’ve had some decent wines, albeit mostly from New Zealand that weren’t DIY lol! But in the quest for professionalism, I went and got myself James Halliday’s wine companion and promptly got a Yalumba Y Series Voignier. Which is pleasant. I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Light golden in color, fringed with green, it smells barely asphalty and very peachy.
Taste wise, you’d think it was going to be sweet, but turns out it’s pretty dry, with a good crisp finish. Not my favourite style of white but certainly a good one. The 2008 vintage which I had, scored a 93 and placed amongst the 10 best value wines under $20. I paid $13 for mine, a good price for a good wine. I’d eat a spicy Thai duck salad drenched with palm sugar caramel or something with this instead of the roast pork/char siew combo I had. It’s not really spectacular but you can’t complain at all considering the price. It’s good value. Very drinkable and pretty high in alcohol. I’m sort of swaying a bit typing this right now.
Next up, I reckon I’ll just do a bottle that’s been sitting around for ages, a Shiraz Grenache from Wyndham Estate. It’s something I bought on a trip to the Hunter Valley like 1.5 years ago! And apparently, it was rated pretty well by Huon Hooke, a well known wine critic dude. I remember liking because it felt a lot softer than pure Shiraz, which I never really like because it’s so peppery. Although its more of a winter complement. We’ll see.
Filed under: Drink
My friend has this habit of pouring the sugar over the top layer of foam on her lattes or cappuccinos. Then she sorta spreads it out to even things slightly before spooning mouthfuls away. Clearly, she enjoys the soft, dense milk foam with a little bit of crunchy sugar. Which keeps making me think of trying to caramelise the sugar that you’d put on top of the latte.
Obviously, if I took a torch and tried to burn the thing, I’d just end up with the sugar dropping into the coffee below after I wipe out the foam entirely. No matter how stable the foam matrix, any application of direct and violent heat required to caramelise sugar would surely make all the air in the foam dissipate, rendering the idea stupid.
Which means that in order for me to achieve a candy shell full of latte foam, I’d have to reverse engineer it. Make the shell first, then fill the interior with a whipper or a foaming device. Or maybe… I could make the coffee inside a 5 sided candy shell, expresso, crema and foam, a baby-latte and then, seal the top with a final wafer of candy shell that’s midly torched at the sides to join, like welding the panels together. I suppose the sugar would melt though.
Perhaps a 3rd element is required to finish the jigsaw.
Someone please tell me how to make a crispy, 1mm thin caramel shell containing warm cappuccino foam inside!
Rose Bay is about 10 or 15 minutes from the city, away from the hustle and bustle and the hoons but it doesn’t display too much opulence despite its reputation as a well to do neighborhood. It’s understated, until you realize that those houses are actually really massive and there’s quite a lot of boats on the water. Still, you don’t notice it.
Pier sits atop an actual pier, jutting out onto Rose Bay itself. Glass lining either side, it’s incredibly subtle and elegant. On first glance, you wouldn’t think it’s necessarily home to a 3 hat diner. No you have to notice the idea behind how it’s sited and how it’s designed around the location itself. You’re dining almost out on the water, with a view that’s nondescript and perhaps unspectacular. You’re not going to see the opera house bathed in the glow of the city lights. It’s just a rather tranquil, minimalist approach to a restaurant. You feel like you’re almost on the water, but you’re completely dry. At once caught in some wonderful intermediary between land and sea, natural and man made.
Which is Pier from start to finish, every minutiae, every detail, every nuance. Some people won’t get it at all. They want the fireworks and the pizazz and the big bangs and the foams and the sperificacions and service that sucks up or whatever. No. Pier is for the people who appreciate the simple, underappreciated things in life. The delicate lightness of being. A certain refined sense of life beyond the ordinary brusqueness with which we approach things.
I suppose my opinion is clouded by several factors. One. I’ve just graduated culinary college and my parents came over for a visit. Two. I didn’t pay a cent HHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Three. I love seafood. Four. I’m into this quiet, suppressed expressionist vibe right now. Even then, you’d have to be really thick to not appreciate the flavors and the beauty on the plate.
I’m greeted by the waitstaff by name, a pleasant little surprise despite the obviousness of the situation. It shows I was expected and that they care. We sit at the table and get some still water whilst we browse the menu. As we eat, the restaurant fills up half full. Yet, they purposely keep all the customers on one side of the long room, allowing the other side to retain an unspoiled view of the boats on the bay awash in the light of the setting sun. Like a fading vesper hinting at what was to come.
We opted for the 8 course degu. With matching wines. Plus 6 oysters each. 3 rock, 3 coffin bay. Plus coffee. Damages were insane. Yet, it felt completely worth it. It was, I must confess, the best meal I have had to this point in my life. I sincerely hope it will not be the best ever. I know there is even better. Yet, I still feel Pier deserves its place in the culinary world as something beautiful and something I can truly appreciate. It’s so me. The fact that it’s seafood, the delicate nature, the thoughtfulness, the attention to detail… It’s no mind altering experience but it’s what a really awesome restaurant should be.
We start with oysters. I devour them before I remember to pull my camera. I went from left to right, rock then coffin then rock and so on. Starting au naturel, then adding lemon then mignonette at the end. They’re superbly fresh. But they’re also just oysters. I want moar!!!
First course was a canape straight from Thomas Keller. King salmon tartare with capers sitting on a cone made of wonton skin. The variation being the wonton skin swopped for the tuile in Keller’s original. The fish is fresh, you can tell with each firm little bite, despite the fact that it’s tiny little cubes. The capers lend this saltiness that is intended. As a palate opener and not as a dish in its own right. I realize this only after the meal. The ultra crisp wonton skin also adds to that effect as the gustatory actions are driven into work and attention. One side detail were the holders for these. Ours came in a set of three, whilst the people dining at other tables had a holder specifically designed for 2 cones because they were a couple. Another group had 2 sets of 2. If it were a holder with 4 cones, they’d have to pass it around, which would be silly.
2nd course was Carpaccio of John Dory with Tomato, Lime Vinaigrette, Cracked White Pepper and Soft Herbs. I loved the presentation. It led you on to start from the outside, untouched fish to the slices sitting within the dressing, giving the dish a certain evolution of flavor as you went along. It was delightful. I flipped each slice into a tiny little packet and placed it into the orifice. It is deceptively simple. Once in the mouth, you get a full burst of fish and herbs, brought on in no small part with a good dose of sea salt. The John Dory just strong enough to handle the herbs and still dominate in its own right. When I got to the dressing, it simply transgressed to the next level. The lime brightening up the palate and the oil helping the flavors to linger in the mouth just that bit longer. Every single apprehension I had was wiped away. Immediately I realized this was going to be so freakin’ awesome. I suppose it helped immensely that we started with a biggish white. A 2007 Castro Martin Albarino from Rias Baixas in Spain. Peaches and apples. Perfectly complimentary to the dish and so drinkable on its own.
3rd course. Tian of Spanner Crab with Scallop Ceviche, Pea Salad and Pea Jus. This upped the ante. The crab was sweet and tender. Delightful little morsels amplified in flavor with the very similar sweetness from the fresh peas. These were unbelievable. Then you get the textural link, with the crab and the pea jus provided a similar, brushy/hairy feeling at the top of the mouth. The scallop provided contrast with its smooth slickness. Then the matching Sauvignon Blanc gave it just the right acid kick.
4th course. Pan Roasted Scallops with Sauteed Veal Sweetbreads, Shimeji Mushrooms & Cauliflower Tofu. I usually baulk at repeat ingredients but this scallop and the one before felt like alternate universes. This was a course in full texture with increasing flavor. Perfectly roasted scallops just browned on the outside were given a splendid depth from the richness of the sweetbread and the savoryness of the mushroom jus. The cauliflower tofu reflected the scallops even more so and felt similar to the matching wine. Here, the wine matched in terms of viscosity, rather than flavor as the principle. Interesting and incredibly delicious.
5th course. Crispy Skinned Murray Cod wth Caramelised Witlof, Jamon Serrano, Dutch Carrots and Bitter Orange. Iberico would have swamped the fish, overpowering it. The mildly bitter/astringent aspect from the witlof and orange was countered by the fact that they were also sweet. The carrots also provided another sweet accent, only in high contrast crunchy versus creamy puree. The puree itself was beautifully scented with orange. The dish was sublime. A perfect marriage of multiple textures and flavors that seemed like a cohesive whole. Another added extra was the unremarkable pinot noir that lifted the dish all the more. Most whites would not have been able to take on the mantle this dish proffers. This dish exemplifies how well the sommelier works with head chefs Greg Doyle and Grant King.
6th course. This merged the savory and sweet worlds. Roquefort Cheesecake with Pear Gel, Celery, Maple Syrup, Fig and Grissini Sticks. I can’t explain fully why there isn’t a hint of blue in the cheese. Or how the thing was so damn good. Suffice to say that it was so damn good. The orangey dessert wine that went with this was phenom.
7th Course. A light as air Carrot Sponge. Possibly an aerated genoise served with some cream cheese, peanuts and cream cheese frosting. I remember the frosting having a sherbet-esque taste and how the sponge was lighter than souffle. Excuses for the blur photo! As an exercise in lightness, this was perfect, given we were almost at the end and getting full. Yet, despite the near nothingness, it was still full on flavor.
Last and final course. A spectacular finish from Katrina Kanetani. Rum Braised Bananas with Rum Sponge, Coconut Sorbet, Almond Brittle, Cocoa Powder and Tamarind Jelly. Resplendent in its marriage of textures, flavors and presented amazingly. This is one where you need a little bit of everything in one awesome mouthful. This came with a Chenin Blanc but I swiped that mostly with the carrot cake already!
And to finish for good, a cappuccino with some orange marshmallows!
Thanks Mom & Dad!
The mother of all tripels. The first one to use the term to denote a strong pale ale. I had a glass at the Belgian Beer Cafe and it was marvellous. Deep golden in color with a cloudy appearance, it started off matte then brightened with strong fruit/floral flavor and aroma and dissipated into the long hoppy finish. The Westmalle Tripel is definitely one of the finest beers I’ve had to date. At $14.20, it felt like value for money, what with the 9.5 % alcohol that sat deceptively within the delicious liquor. The beer also came in a nice goblet that had this pattern debossed on the side, some leaves and a fleur de lys or something like that. My mate called it a pair of nuts and a stick and I concurred.
On a side note, this was my second visit to the joint. Previously I had the superb Orval and their specialty, mussels. This time round, we were told the mussels were all gone and we had to wait 40 minutes for a pathetic plate of cheese balls. During which time, I wondered why my 4 beers cost me more than it should. I promptly went to the bar and went to check things out. The babe behind was totally nice or I think I was smitten or something. I can’t remember although i totally remember her face and how nice she was, smiling and stuff. I should go back. For the awesome beers of course. Oh and uh, on Wednesdays, mussels are half price, which is why they were all out today. October is coming after all and German beer is weak compared to the Belgian variety. Yes, I’m going for another round next week and a phone number on the side.
Filed under: Drink
Ok so udda night, I was chillin’ with sum homies and we wuz drinkin dem sojus den one of my frenz pulls out a frozone bottle of majik Korean elixir of beatuy. (Becos wen u driunk, you can’et see shiz) Den she like smacks the bottom one time and bam, the top shiz is lyk frozen. And den she pour me out a slushie. A soju slushie. I puked like a bitch after we reach da 15th bottle. Or carton. I can’t member.
I think its likely due to the agitation caused by the violent striking, causing carbon dioxide to be released from what used to be a previously still bottle of soju. The soju itself, of course, is around 12% alcohol or so, I’m underestimating but bear with me. The alcohol causes the freezing temperature of the liquid to drop well below the -18 degrees celsius most common commercial freezers drop to. Thus, it remains in a liquid form. However, when the carbon dioxide is released after the bottle is hit, it creates a sort of precipitation device for the water molecules within the liquid to crystallize around, hence “freezing” if you will. Sort of like how snow would form in cold weather. I am also of the firm belief that everything I have spoke thus far is utter rubbish, whether it was grammatical or otherwise. However, I would like to state, for the record, that soju slushies, are da shiznit.
Filed under: Design, Drink, Sydney | Tags: jars, minimalist, plusminuszero, productlust, t2, tea
Not the movie with the governor of California no. T2’s the name for a chain of tea shops. They sell a very good variety of loose leaf greens, blacks and red teas as well as chai and fruit teas but what I really like is their “stuff”. There’s a store near where I live and it’s a little haphazardly decorated and jarringly messy all in a good way. There’s a counter in the middle, with dark shelves everywhere laden with teas sorted by type. Then there’s round tables swamped with all manner of tea related bric a brac, from Japanese cast iron pots and stainless steel mesh strainers to Turkish style cups with loud printed patterns.
The packaging and their identity design stands out too. Simple helvetica is something everyone uses but there’s not too much to oversell the tea, with no cheesy nonsense like idyllic pictures of slave children working the fields in Sri Lanka on the dawn’s first light on the day of the solstice. It just tells you exactly what tea is contained within, with only color separating the varieties.
One of my fave things costs like $3.50 and its just a small amber colored glass jar with a black screwcap. It’s used to keep your tea in and it’s so simple and superclean, airtight plus the coloring helps keep the tea from harsh light. I am envisioning a whole row of these babies lining my desk in future next to a plusminuszero kettle.
&
= Tannic heaven.
Truth be told, it does reek of a certain white yuppie stench but I was so taken by the great service that I forked over the slightly high price of $12 for some organic sencha. They did not have a non organic version. Definitely going back for some rooibos, which I sampled and was delish. Still, I have quite a bit of tea to go through.
