Marching to the beat of your own

Farewells tend to be bittersweet occasions – the departing can be going home or to some exciting venture, while those left behind are left behind. But life being what it is, you’d have to be silly to not go out and try things, and take a few measured risks here and there – especially that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, however freaky it seems. Never mind the naysayers and niggling doubts at the back of the mind – it’s your life to live.

The menu at Different Drummer, Glebe Point Road, Glebe

A farewell for a Glebe local was fittingly held at a local Glebe establishment, with a happy hour-and-a-half to console those being left behind. Different Drummer is rather well known for its generous happy hour, with plenty of people there in time to take full advantage of it.

There’s an upstairs which was closed off for a hen’s night, a spacious back section which was reserved for a couple of private functions; leaving the front bar which was fully populated, and a narrow-ish corridor with three tables that led into the back section. We crammed our group onto one small table, scooting in when people needed to pass through us and the group standing in the walkway.

Cocktails at the red lit bar

It’s a small, moody place lit in red hues with underground tones, and generally loud and lively with a packed crowd of stylish, mostly twenty- and thirty-somethings. The liveliest section was no doubt the bar, particularly about 20 minutes before the end of happy hour. The hatted bar staff were plentiful although they seemed to have rather consistent three-deep queues nonetheless – perhaps due to the extensive cocktail list and the 90 minutes worth of two-for-ones.

Poolside Punch No. 4 cocktail

I start on the light sounding Frapple – vodka, Frangelico, apple and lemon juices – although the Frangelico was noticeably absent. A martini glass of apple juice later, it was later found in the Poolside Punch No.4 – white rum, Frangelico, mango juice and fruit garnishes – although both cocktails lacked a real ‘yum’ factor.

A glance at the time and it’s amazing how quickly 60 minutes passes by in the company of good friends, chatter and two-for-one cocktails. We’re down to our last 30 minutes (including wait at the bar) of happy hour, and the scrum at the bar starts to get slightly frantic. I hear cries of “20 mojitos”, but think our little group of five didn’t do all too badly as the minutes ticked down to 7.30pm.

Happy hour madness

Ferrying drinks back to our corridor table wasn’t too difficult, but talking and manoeuvring around a table of ten cocktails wasn’t the easiest feat, let alone clinking glasses above them all.

The Bloody Mary proves a winner, especially for the Bloody Mary virgins as the savoury combination of tomato juice, Tabasco sauce and pepper stand out from the general sweetness of the other drinks. The Moscow mule is light on ginger and lime flavour; the Ginger and Apple Cooler better for flavour and much like a soft drink; the Passionfruit Collins a girly favourite and the Caipirinha – untasted by me, actually.

Suffice to say, the drinks sustained us for a while longer, until the munchies kicked in. Luckily we’re rather prepared, as Different Drummer is both a cocktail and tapas bar. We elected the ‘Large Tapas Selection’ which offers a choice of six dishes from the tapas menu for $60.

Crumbed camembert, flash fried, served with water crackers and cranberry

The crumbed camembert is an automatic choice for our table of cheese fiends – a small crumbed wheel served with crackers, mixed leaf side and a sweet cranberry sauce. Whether it was the cool weather (although it was quite warm inside) or the camembert sitting a while, the insides weren’t as molten and oozey as I was hoping for, and thus not the full cheesy experience; although this could also have been on the part of the restaurant not serving dangerous, potentially scalding foods.

Salt and pepper squid - or not

In hindsight, I wonder if my order of salt and pepper squid was mixed up with the ‘golden fried calamari’ listed on the menu, as it did come with a mayonnaise or aioli of sorts. If it was mistaken, then I guess it was slightly better than I'm going to give it credit for.

I'm starting to think that salt and pepper squid is so prevalent on Sydney menus that the dish has lost its meaning – or rather, its flavours. Simply battered/ crumbed and deep fried coils of squid itself do not make for salt and pepper – it’s all in the seasonings. Tender squid is also paramount and this rendition misses the pass mark on both. It’s not super chewy, but you wouldn’t call it tender in any language.

Char grilled lamb brochettes with a Moroccan marinade

The unassuming lamb brochettes stole almost everyone's heart that night. Who would have thought three little chunks of meat on a skewer could be so soft,flavoursome and juicy? With just the right amount of cumin and seasoning, these four skewers were virtually free of fat or sinew, as tender if not more so than lamb cutlets, and simply to die for. As the last bare skewer returned to the emptied plate, I'm sure we were all wishing that we had more.

Steamed asparagus spears wrapped in prosciutto, topped with fresh parmesan shards and bearnaise sauce

I blame the effect of four cocktails and reading in dark red lighting for this unexpected dish - I saw 'asparagus' and 'prosciutto' but nothing else. A bunch of steamed asparagus came wrapped in thick cut prosciutto where I was expecting spears of asparagus wrapped in paper-thin prosciutto. I think the dish was overcomplicated with both parmesan and bearnaise, as the latter added very little to the overall and the parmesan added saltiness to the already salty prosciutto.

Vegetarian risotto balls with salsa

I ordered risotto balls thinking some substance (read: carbohydrate) was necessary to soak up alcohol. These crumbed and fried balls of a quite tasty risotto were not too heavy nor cheesy/creamy, lifted by the sweet tomato salsa, and did a fine job in filling and soaking up. I can see these being potentially, and dangerously, moreish.

King prawns in chilli, ginger and white wine sauce

The final tapas of prawns was a little underwhelming; from its queer red hue to the utter sweetness of the sauce. I could certainly taste the chilli kick, subtle ginger and smoothing white wine in the sauce amid the sugar, but I don't think the nicely firm prawns needed all that sweetening.

Six dishes later, satisfied with bellies full of cocktails and food, it was definitely not easier to squeeze into our petite table. The place was still full and possibly louder than earlier, and the walkway remained filled although the bar was not quite at happy hour levels of activity.

We tarried awhile with some more drinks and conversation, as if we didn't want to leave or say goodbye. It was definitely a good night out and while it wasn't necessarily the farewell we planned, like life, it took its unpredictable path and we made our choices. After all, we all have our own drums.

Saigon snack

If you screw up scheduled meal times, it can be difficult to fix them. Having breakfast/brunch at 12pm forces lunch to about 4pm - and then a midnight dinner? It's good to have snacking options out and about, although this requires enormous amounts of restraint. To choose menu items to share as a snack - not a meal.

Che drink from Miss Saigon, Forest Road, Hurstville

So pho was not really an option when we descended upon Miss Saigon at about 4pm, although the three or four tables around were all having soupy noodles. I know I was missing out, but with dinner just a few hours away, it had to be discipline all the way. Starting off with the green tinged che drink, with red beans and green jelly strips among other ingredients under sweetened milk and shaved ice. I imagine this in itself could be a meal.

Lettuce leaves and herbs plus nuoc cham

One thing I love about Vietnamese food has to be the abundance of fresh and raw food involved, especially the ever-present lettuce leaves and Asian mint. They're generally used to wrap things, I think, almost everything in my experience, dunked into the also omnipresent nuoc cham dipping sauce. I'm not sure which of our ordered dishes, if not both, this was meant for, but it made it with both.

Banh xeo

Both dumplings and pancakes are two food items I struggle to resist. The Vietnamese savoury pancake version is banh xeo, here bright yellow and thin with a crunchy looking outer. I imagine I'd be able to scoff piles of these empty, like a savoury crepe of sorts. Perhaps there's a French influence.

Banh xeo innards - pork mince, prawn, bean sprouts

Inside the pancake reveals a pile of bean sprouts, a couple of poached prawns and a helping of dry-cooked pork mince, all nestled into the inner, ungrilled side of the pancake. The fillings are not stuck into the batter as such, but rather blanketed by the pancake, and very simply seasoned. I think the rack of condiments by the side of each table are meant to help that cause, as too the basket of wrapping and dipping sides.

Salt and pepper calamari

Other people just can't help themselves to salt and pepper squid. It's like something stronger than magnetic attraction and I've learnt not to try forcing them apart. This plate looked promising with its pale batter (clean oil!) and generously-sized pieces, but was let down somewhat by the lack of flavour - neither salt nor pepper seemed present.

And then the forced stop while we're still not quite full. It's kind of a new experience, stopping way before explosion point and still a little wanting. It's a little enlightening in a few ways, and probably lightening too - seems a little restraint goes a long way.

Carving it up

Piggy in the middle was one of my least favourite games as a child – it’s funny how times change. While I still don’t enjoy chasing after things deliberately being kept away from me, you can give me pork crackling any time of the day and I’ll be very appreciative.

Interior at Chophouse, Bligh Street, Sydney

Invited to indulge in ‘Pig and Pinot’ at CBD steakhouse Chophouse, a group of food bloggers gathered in the foyer to be greeted with champagne and our host for the night, Adam from Chophouse owners, Pacific Restaurant Group. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect for the evening despite having been to Chophouse before, but the bubbles were a good start after and there was generally a buzzy, convivial atmosphere in the restaurant.

Whimsical meets rustic interior decorations

Led to our long table in the mod-rustic interiors of the dining area, there’s a sense of the whimsical added to the general beefiness of the place – a desert/Western dream-like vibe that’s not corporate despite the restaurant’s location and likely clientele. Aptly seated on a leather banquette, we’re also briefly introduced to Executive Chef David Clarke – who we’re told has to go back to tending his pig.

Our hosts - David (left) and Adam

Adam – our jetsetting businessman, passionate foodie and overall charming host – tells us what we’re in for and it’s a tantalising menu. Yes, entrées and wines and dessert, but he had me (and others, I presume) at “whole suckling pig”. In a preview for the soon-to-open new Carvery concept upstairs, we were going to be treated to an entire roast suckling pig, carved at the table. I must have done something good.

Bread

We start on bread and, inevitably, given the opportunity, food and restaurant talk. We’re poured glasses of 2008 Ostler Audrey’s Pinot Gris – an undoubtedly beautiful, restrained fruity drop that I’ll be looking out for. It was the perfect accompaniment to our entrées as it was very pleasant on the palate without being overpowering.

Jamon & Italian buffalo mozzarella, roasted fennel, spring onion & almonds

There’s much excitement on my part at the first entrée – just a few of my favourite things, although in hindsight, the entire meal could have been called that. The buffalo mozzarella was air freighted from Pastorano in the Campania region of southern Italy, and I have to admit, tastier than any locally produced versions I’ve had. What the olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar drizzled cheese lacked in texture (a bit crumblier and less silky than I expected), it made up for with a creamy depth of flavour and company.

Thin slices of the king of cured meats, jamon iberico de bellota, sat casually aside the mozzarella, both on top of the sweetly caramelised spring onion and roasted fennel. Considerately cut thicker than paper, presumably for the full flavour impact, the jamon had a big, bold flavour that got me thinking of faraway pastures and oak forests. It was almost meltingly to-the-tooth, unlike some sometimes chewy, even paper-thin slices of prosciutto.

Ceviche of Hervey Bay sea scallops, Mt Lowe truffle, avruga & apple

The wine kept coming as our second entree came along, stopping everyone in their tracks - there was just so much to appreciate. As if scallops weren't already one of my favourites, this entrée is seriously pimped out. Let's start with the ceviche, sliced scallops in a barely noticeable marinade on its gleaming white shell. And then there's a little green apple salad of which the sweet, juicy juliennes contrast with salty Avruga caviar.

Finally, the dish is almost garnished with a delicate shaving of truffle, out of the ground a mere couple of days ago from the Oberon region in NSW. The colour palette of the dish really worked for me, while the scent of the truffle wasn't as heady and hypnotising as expected. In fact, on taste it was exceptionally subtle and delicate - only when I tasted it alone, letting it linger in my mouth, did I get a slight sense of the decadence these fungi are renowned for. Along with caviar and scallops, I was feeling a million bucks.

With our gorgeous starters throroughly enjoyed, the 2006 Ostler Caroline's Pinot Noir signalled that we were moving to the serious part of the meal. The pinot noir was smooth and highly drinkable, although it's taking quite some work to get me away from my shiraz bias.

We could smell the main event coming minutes before it came to the table. It was intoxicating, so much that I couldn't concentrate after that aroma had infiltrated my nostrils. So it was with great anticipation that our guest of honour was wheeled to the table in all its aromatic glory.

Slow roasted organic suckling pig

After a moment or two of an admiring daze, one of my first thoughts was that this little piggy had a very nice backside. An attention seeking one at that, with the paparazzi treatment it was given. Even nearby tables were getting in on the action, but granted, it is quite the sight. And imagine you could get this weekly at the Chophouse's Carvery - be still my cholesterol levels and beating heart.

Chef carves up the suckling pig

David gets to work carving up the suckling pig - quite a task actually. We sit patiently and obediently as his carving knife removes complete sides of the pig, and especially as he crunches through pieces of crackling to bite size pieces. I think I'm again in the state of being unable to concentrate - the sounds and smells make it simply impossible to talk or think. They bring out side dishes as distraction as we wait for the suckling pig.

Cauliflower gratin

The cheesy creaminess of the gratin is apparent from scent alone, and I remember adoring this last time. The cauliflower in a surely naughty, melty sauce is covered with sourdough crumbs grilled to a golden brown. I only have one spoonful of this, knowing that the richness would interfere with my capacity for pork. The cauliflower shined with natural sweetness.

Beans

Also in preparation for incoming indulgence, I load up on the beans - an appealing mix of green and yellow lightly covered in a herb butter.

Wedge salad

Our third side dish was a salad called the wedge, presumably because of its wedges of iceberg lettuce doused in a creamy, tangy dressing. It resembled a caesar salad with its white anchovies, parmesan, speck and gooey-yolked slow cooked egg.

Pieces of pork crackling and meat from the slow roasted organic suckling pig

And then the moment, and plate, dawns on us. The suckling pig is split across the table on three large oval plates, each piled up with crackling and meat to share between four while David continued his labour-intensive carving. There was little hesitation in starting, aside from the obligatory photos which required some restraint from me as my first instinct was to dive into that glistening brown crackling.

I'm having crackling withdrawals now still as I remember plucking the particularly blistered pieces and putting them in my mouth, pausing a few microseconds to savour the moment, and then making my loud, crunching way through.

Whether it was the ear-filling crunch of the crackling or whether the crackling takes me away to another world momentarily - all I know is that there's nothing else around or relevant when there's salty, crunchy pork crackling. While the blistery pieces were fabulous, even the smooth pieces were impressively crunchy and thin.

Apple sauce, jus and harissa to go with the suckling pig

The apple sauce and jus were probably the more traditional sauces to go with the pork, and lovely as they were, my favourite was the harissa - a bit of an eye-opener that was not at all hot but a mild, thick, red, almost tart sauce that was surprisingly light and complementary with the pork.

The pork meat itself was also an adventure, as with the entire beast offered, there were varying cuts of pork spread across the table. I can't honestly say which pieces I got, although I think there was definitely some belly (attached fatty section) along with other cuts that seemed to have been tastily and juicily infused by the fat rendered out of the outer layers

The second plate of suckling pig

And as if there wasn't enough gluttony, our share plates were refilled with round two. There was more impossibly crunchy crackling and more juicy, tender, fall apart meat. This was completely unlike the suckling pig that you get from Chinese barbeque shops, where the meat can be really firm and bordering on dry. Whether it's the slow cooking or the oven of choice, I'm converted.

Pleasingly, we finished our second plate clean, as I think we all did. In fact, we probably finished the whole pig clean as there were trotters, tails, cheeks and the snout even being dished out by David.

One would think that that would be enough feasting to last a week. One would be quite wrong. To many, a meal isn't complete without a sweet ending - and in fact, we had several.

Caramelised banana cheesecake, butterscoth and peanut brittle

The first is dessert proper - a cheesecake that gives my all-time favourite lemon a good run for its money. The flavour combination is ingenious - and who'd have thought caramel, banana and peanut could look so classy. I had to skip the quenelle of cream but picked off every bit of brittle off the plate; the crunch and slight savouriness being crucial to the dish. There were also slices of actual banana between the base and the cheese filling, which I could have gone without, but a star dessert - never mind the calories.

In another interesting point, this dessert retails for $8. Seriously. Given the sometimes tough market they have to deal with, David and Chophouse have opted for a rather low price for all desserts to encourage the inner boy/sweet tooth to go the whole hog and do dessert. As for the rest of us, it's win-win. But wait, there's more.

Chophouse chocolate block

David uses a  blend of milk and dark Lindt chocolate, tempered and molded himself to form the chocolate block; which is served on a rustic, worn wooden board with a mini cleaver. Ours is filled with almonds, I think, as we pull on all our strength to chop through the block. After polishing off the cheesecake, I can only manage a small piece of chocolate. It's got all the sweetness and creaminess of milk chocolate with just the slightest hint of dark acidity. I prefer dark (sorry David).

We had the chocolate and dessert with truly generous, help ourselves Hennessy XO cognac and an unusual Berta grappa - the latter of which, after burning my nostrils with its fumes, had a sweet fruity aroma somewhere beneath the burning alcohol. The seriously hard liquors are probably not really my thing.

Dry-aged Delmonico in the goody bag

In the final sweet gesture in a night that was, in an analogy, pure saccharine, we were gifted with goody bags containing a vaccuum sealed dry-aged Delmonico (one of the signature with-bone cuts of Chophouse), a block of Chophouse chocolate, a couple of Lindt macarons and importantly, David's instructions for cooking the perfect steak. I'm so excited, I can't wait to pull out the frypan this weekend.

From the chocolate and grappa, I somehow managed to waddle (stumble?) out the door, thankful and rather full. I think the Carvery is going to be a really interesting concept, with a set roast each weekday evening. I think the likes of the goat and pheasant will garner a cult following, while I'll be blocking out suckling pig nights in my diary - perhaps Wednesday nights so it's piggy in the middle (of the week).

Many thanks to Adam, David, Michelle, Sarah and Chophouse for the fabulous evening - it's one I'll remember and drool over for a while to come.

Clip 'round the cake hole

To be a student again – loitering about ‘bohemian’ suburbs, mooching around campus and nearby establishments, and the freedom of 3-day schedules – I miss it but there are certainly parts I don’t. On weekdays the suburbs of Newtown and Glebe appear to be a veritable playground of the young educates, who fill the cafés and street intersections with their textbooks, laptop computers and interesting plays on fashion.

Latte at Clipper Cafe, Glebe Point Road, Glebe

A late Monday afternoon would appear to be an unusual peak hour, but for Clipper Café it seems rather normal with students interspersed with the occasional lunching ladies and generally categorised ‘others’. The espresso machine whirrs continuously while the display wall features a mounted bicycle and range of coffee makers or kettles (including an Atomic espresso maker) among other things in kitsch, grandma fashion.

Cappuccino

It can be a bit of a wait/fight for seating, and even a bit of musical seats when it comes to the communal table. There’s a definite sense of linger-ability here despite the tight seating, but the students don’t seem to mind, the coffees are good and the baked eggs look popular even well after breakfast. The menu stretches from light brekky options to more substantial lunch choices, with a specials board of about half a dozen versions of baked eggs.

Fruit salad with yoghurt and honey

My meal is in between brunch and afternoon tea, which I wouldn’t quite call lunch; decidedly healthy but safe in the knowledge of ensuing unhealthiness just next door. The fruit salad is not a cheap option, nor does it arrive without a follow-up. With its abundance of strawberries, kiwifruit, banana, rockmelon, honeydew, papaya and pineapple, doused in natural yoghurt and a drizzle of honey, the tropical party in my overflowing bowl almost replaced the cool weather outside.

Clipper Café is comforting, welcoming and home-like; no wonder the attraction for students. And better yet, it’s right next door to a gorgeous and new-in-town French patisserie and bakery, with glass cabinets brimming with little sweet treats and rustic shelves laden with freshly baked breads.

Petite cakes and tarts at La Banette, Glebe Point Road, Glebe

Bread loaves and baguettes

La Banette in Glebe is the newest outpost for the original Avalon patisserie, with so many delightful cakes and pastries that resistance was futile, though not quite with as many students in custom. If not for the quasi lunch at Clipper, I would have jumped on one of the ratatouille tarts or the thick, golden sausage rolls.

Ratatouille tarts

Instead, it was the delicate, couple-of-bites-sized cakes that made the cut, eaten in the store on a sandstone bench. Coffee would be a nice addition.

Strawberry mousse cake (left) and tarts (right)

The strawberry mousse cake is sweet and surprisingly light – though perhaps being of whipped egg whites it shouldn’t be so surprising. Fluffy sponge held it all together in a perfectly petite sized cake that was easy on both guilt and richness factors.

Chocolate hazelnut slice (left) and tart (right)

Not so light and easy was the hazelnut and chocolate slice, a rectangle block of ground hazelnuts and iced white with a red-pink squiggle. This was the definition of rich, sweet and loaded with a covert hit of brandy or like liquor that rendered the petite slice rather filling and heavy, and the icing completely unnecessary. Again, this might have been just the thing with a macchiato.

Pastries in the front cabinet

Large cakes and tarts

This rejuvenated eastern end of Glebe Point Road is a haven from impending storms, uni, work or whatever one needs to run from. It encompasses the art of “hanging out in Glebe” remarkably well and should see the students suitably caffeine-d and sweetened up.

Oh, barbeque time

Barbequeing at O Bal Tan, Pitt Street, Sydney

Nothing warms the wind-chilled face and fingers or an icy demeanour like this sight. Never mind the smoke seeping into freshly washed hair, woollen sweaters and cold dagger eyes, it's warm and there's food - and that's all that matters some Friday nights after a few schooners.

This particular late night, there was still a wait for O Bal Tan and next door Madang, although O Bal Tan was able to accommodate us more easily and quickly on this occasion. It's amazing how quickly decisions can be made when one is cold and starving. Must try it more often at work.

Pancake banchan

And when you're starving, what better than complimentary starters that, like the Tim Tam's of old, never run out. What a beautiful thought it is that a doorbell can bring you food almost instantaneously. These petite pancakes are mostly dough and a bit of forgettable vegetable. Not the best start, but nonetheless awesome when you're starving.

Pasta banchan

Much more interesting is the ice cream scoop of creamy orange pasta dotted with sultanas. It's subtle in its sweetness (I'm thinking sweet potato puree) with spiral pasta providing the substance. I must say I'm more accustomed to pasta banchan in a mayonnaise sauce, but this (hopefully) healthier version was demolished quick-smart, with another order shortly on the way.

Onion banchan

The onion might look devilishly like they'll give you onion breath for days, but they're quite tame, crisply pickled in a sweet and vinegary sauce that renders the onions glossy brown. They may not give you bad breath for days, but still probably not first date food.

Cabbage

Now I'm not entirely sure if the cabbage was part of the banchan, or was a side to the barbeque meats we had ordered, considering we received more than just one of these dishes. The thinly shredded nest of cabbage sat in a sweet vinegar sauce much like that of the onion and was a refreshing and crunchy mouthful everytime.

Seafood pancake

Korean pancakes are generally a must-order for me and I hate to be disappointed by them. This version is delightfully crunchy, quite thin and packed with shallots but a little light on the seafood. I recall some squid and mussels and not much else. Still, it's addictive even when I know it's filling and has carb-expanding powers within my stomach.

Some kind of HOT soup...

To be honest, I'm not sure what kind of soup this was. All I am certain of is that it was hot; burn-your-tastebuds-from-existence hot - this from the chilli and the intial temperature. There may have been crab in it; there was Chinese cabbage and zucchini; I really don't know. All I remember is red hot chilli. Ouch.

Sides for barbequeing

I find that at Korean restaurants, food tends to rush out all at once and thus, filling up a table rather quickly that you have to juggle your Hite bottles with empty banchan dishes and dipping sauces to fit the next thing on. The vibrantly fresh butter lettuce leaves and carrot sticks make it for the barbeque but the cucumber sticks go right in my mouth in an attempt to cool and calm the tongue from the soup attack.

Barbeque action starts

And then comes the DIY portion of the night, which I often no longer choose due to laziness. But we're barbequeing chicken thigh fillets and beef ribs tonight, the latter of which are so oddly satisfying. Must be the gnawing on the flat, thick bone that is such novelty; while the chicken thigh is difficult to mess up.

Both appear marinated in a sweet, garlicky sauce that cooks to a burnt, caramelised outer crust and induce some finger licking. I like to wrap the meat in the lettuce leaves and generally dunk it into whatever sauces are around: chilli bean sauce, garlic vinegar sauce, kimchi remnants - anything goes.

Post barbeque, we're thoroughly warmed - I may have even broken out in a sweat over that soup - but happy and satisfied. Barbeque times are always guaranteed good times, whether it's in the backyard with tomato sauce covered burnt sausages, or at a Korean restaurant with chilli soup and a hole in the table.