Give old ways the Chop

Cooking steak has always been a bit of a mystery to me, like for many others I presume. I know how I like my steak (medium-rare) but wouldn't have the first clue as to how to get a piece of meat to that state, especially with the huge range of cuts and thicknesses of available steaks, not to mention bones, cooking methods and so on. So it's always been a lot of guesswork, cutting it in half to see how cooked it really is, and sometimes eating well-done steaks that seem more braised than grilled.

Dry aged Delmonico steak provided by Chophouse, cooked by me

At my recent visit to Chophouse, I was gifted with a beautiful piece of meat, which I cooked up a few days afterwards to the detailed instructions of executive chef David Clarke. Well, most of the instructions. I have a terrible habit of not following instructions to a tee (especially disastrous in sweets and desserts); mostly down to laziness, which ironically makes a lot of jobs more difficult than they would have been originally.

But I digress. After removing the Delmonico with rosemary from its plastic vaccuum seal and leaving it to rest and warm a little out of the fridge, a light coating of coating of olive oil, salt and pepper are all that are required before going into a very hot, ovenproof pan. And of course I couldn't be bothered to do onions and garlic in a separate pan (more washing), so in that went too.

One side cooked

After a couple of smoky, saliva-inducing minutes the steak is flipped, revealing a fairly even caramelised, deep brown surface. It seems the bone interfered with part of the meat not reaching the pan, but the rest was looking real good. After an equal amount of time on the otherside (which caramelises similarly), the whole pan goes in the oven to finish off the cooking.

Now I wonder if the all-round, possibly less intense heat of the oven cooks more evenly than on the stovetop. It is a technique that appears common in restaurants, and easy enough to do at home as long as your frying pan can go in the oven. It also gives you a number of minutes to do other things; like blanching the green beans, making croutons for tomorrow, setting the table etc.

After the desired cooking time in the oven comes one important step which I've never really considered doing - resting the meat. With all the hard work done in the oven, Mr. Delmonico needs some time off. I notice a fair amount of the meat's juices coming out at this stage, and make sure to keep it to chuck back over the steak later.

The temptation to slice into the steak while it's resting is near-unstoppable, so perhaps make sure there's someone to watch you if you're like me with little restraint. After its period of resting, the steak needs to go back in the oven for a little, just to warm it up for eating.

Steak going back in the oven to warm
(er... and those were tomorrow's croutons I was talking about)

I insist that I will not use another pan for the night, so the steak gets thrown atop the croutons I was preparing for another purpose, although I suppose this stops the bottom side from getting overly cooked. I'll justify it however I please.

Within minutes, I'm poised with steak knife, ready to cut into my evening's assignment (the steak) and assess my handiwork. I notice that most of the fat that was surrounding the steak has rendered down and that there's only a little fat left on the steak.

The result? A little closer to medium than medium-rare for the most part (I admit, I was running around looking for the ever-hidden oven mitt at the last stage of oven warming), while it was definitely a little rarer towards the bone of the steak. The flavour of the steak was sensational, and considering I only added salt, pepper and olive oil, it goes to show how the fatty marbling through the meat and the overall quality of the meat contributes so much to the end result - not even mustard was necessary.

While we're all sometimes creatures of habit, every now and then some habits should be broken and others need to be broken. In terms of cooking steak, I'm definitely giving the old, confused, uninformed way the chop and will say hello to juicy, medium-rare steaks from here on.

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.

Chop chop

The city seems overrun with cattle these days - you can barely go a block without walking by a steak house. Perhaps the stereotype of the businessmen chowing down on a hunk of cow while talking million dollar deals rings true. Regardless, I wouldn't want to be a nice, grass-fed cow strolling down these city streets.

Chophouse isn't so different from any other steak house, maybe except for the huge bone-like cavern you dine under. You get the feeling that you're inside a cow; ironic considering a cow is soon to be inside you. On a weeknight, the bar is littered with suits and the dining area eventually fills with them too.

Soy linseed bread from Chophouse, Bligh Street, Sydney

The options of sourdough or soy linseed bread are welcome, though I must admit they're not the best examples of either I've had. Much more fun is the menu, which is a rather interesting blend from around the world: think sashimi next to risotto next to gravlax next to gumbo. My head's on a global whirlwind - thank goodness for the specials.

Flash fried school prawns with piri piri mayonnaise and spiced salt

The schoolies have been cooked to a point where the prawn shells are delectably crispy and edible, and look like they could easily be popped into one's mouth. Which they can, they were sensationally good. The flavour hit of the spiced salt on the prawns was like a double whammy after the initial crunch. The spicy mayonnaise added a smooth and creamy dimension, but really the prawns could have been on their lonesome own and still fantastic.

White asparagus and parmesan risotto with zucchini flower,
tallegio, parsley and olive oil

The generous serve of risotto was probably a bit much for an entree - but I suppose one can work up an appetite pushing a big deal or corporate entertaining or whatever it was the suits were doing. Creamy with cheese and soft rice, it was pretty as a picture and somehow convinced the petite diner to finish the dish clean. Cheeses and zucchini flowers tend to have those persuasive powers.

Prawn and scallop gumbo

The gumbo certainly sounded intriguing but there seemed to be something missing - like prawns or scallops. The red hue of the soup belies its spicy tendencies but the seafood hit of the soup is really something else. There didn't look to be a great deal of neither seafood item in its full form in the bowl, but its presence was definitely made known in the soup with its rich prawn-iness and the overall sweetness of a lot - and I mean a lot - of seafood.

Crisp pork belly and scallop salad with cress and soy vinaigrette

For an American-style chopped salad, I've got to say this is pretty Sydney - or Sydney a few years ago at least; at the beginning of its scallop and pork belly love affair. It's a gigantic salad brimming with plump bits of scallop and naughtily luscious slices of pork crispy pork belly. The dressing is appropriately light and tarty to combat some of the richness but overall - very Sydney, and I like it.

Double double lamb chops with mint jelly

With mains arriving, we soon realise that servings lean towards the really big end of the scale. The seriously thick lamb chops are cooked to a medium-rare and are served quite plainly with a dish of mint sauce.

Pasture-fed rib on the bone with chutney and jus

This hunky looker is a feast for the eyes and tastebuds, and subsequently, the stomach. The pasture-fed rib on the bone is a tasty cut that needs little more than the jus and and the sweet chutney that sits by its side.

Dry aged Delmonico with chutney and jus

The Delmonico is an impressive cut; refined and streamlined even. It's another huge serving, alone with the jus and chutney as before.

Baby gem lettuce with Paesanella mozzarella (on the side),
tarragon, confit lemon vinaigrette

The salad side is our shared, token healthy dish. The cute whole heads of baby-crunchy lettuce were wincingly sour with their lemon dressing; the mozzarella cheese providing a lightly creamy diversion.

Cauliflower gratin

The standout star of the night happens to be an innocent old side - the cauliflower gratin. Looking unassuming with its darkened crusty edge, the cauliflower florets are immersed in exceedingly creamy - but exceedingly good - gruyere mixture. The vegetable is baked to a soft sweetness that I never knew existed in cauliflower. It's a beautiful relationship between the cauliflower and the cheese - a very loving one, in my opinion.

And with that, hours have passed and it would seem that some business was still being conducted. Honestly, business was probably the last thing on my mind as after the quite large meal I'd just consumed, I wasn't looking to bed down a deal - I was just looking for a bed to lie down in.