That Jess Ho

it may confuse you for a while, but I am doing a little experiment this week.

Upon my return from HK, I discovered I was not only lacking in cash-money, but also sick from eating out for almost every meal.  And before leaving I was doing much the same, you know the story; work, eat lunch out or forget if not scheduling it in, finish work or kickboxing, go out, meet friends, eat out somewhere ridiculous, die from richness, sleep and repeat.

Blerg.

I also miss cooking.

My kitchen is pretty sexy, it even has its own island.

So, between my HK food-fest posts, you will get my home-meals.  As a challenge, I aim to cook every meal I eat over the next week or so, starting from the Saturday just past.

Wish me luck, lovers.

Smoochies.

It was my last meal before Hong Kong and I didn’t want to fuck it up.

I didn’t want anything pricey either, so when my newly single, persimmon-loving friend suggested we go to Movida Aqui after work, I was a little unexcited.  I loved Movida in the early days; the ones where I had no idea about food, still trying to figure out if I was going through puberty yet or not (a common Asian problem) and I couldn’t tell you what the fuck a piquillo pepper was.

In fact, in those days, I hadn’t heard of Movida until my then future brother-in-law took me there.

You see, I was living in the burbs…in my first lonesome house.

I also got pretty drunk on beers because I remember I was too shy to eat (yes, it was THAT long ago).

Nevertheless, I was in love with the place and I appreciated their booking policy.  I went back many times and even went partying with bar staff.

The truth about my unexcited-ness of it all had to do with the hype, and my last few Movida experiences (including next door) were not too amazing.  A little lackluster because of certain oversights, food being cold and over/under seasoning. Don’t get me wrong, I love the food, I own the cook books…but I was just wondering if they were getting too comfortable with their reputation.

So, I begrudgingly hauled my arse up those stairs, ajoined to the bank I used to work for while chewing the inside of my face off thinking about the monotonous hours I spent with full access to everyone’s accounts with no anarchy to show for it and trying not to fall on my face.  You see, it was raining, and I was wearing heels with a leather inner and outer sole which I had been to lazy to Topy.  Please, ladies and gentlemen…don’t forget to Topy (especially if your shoes could purchase a dinner for two at Attica).

Friend, who I will just call AML from now on, and I had spent a good twenty minutes regressing into high-school mode and yet again, I was trying to convince her that moving out from the family home and getting some independence would be a good idea.

I was also getting tipsy.

She…well…she was getting calls from her father which involved some tone-of-voice changing, innocence and the fact that she was relying on the high-school-friend factor to save her from an early train.

It worked.

Surprisingly, her father likes me.

Actually, surprisingly, parents like me.  Sometimes, the parents even like me more than my friends do.  It’s kind of weird considering I am a crass, foul-mouthed, disco-hooker.

Ta-da…sardine.  Sardine of love.  Honestly, I can’t remember exactly how this tasted, but I loved it. Much like Movida, the concept here allows you to order single pieces of food or larger plates to share.  We stayed small as we wanted to try a lot of things.

The food here also comes incredibly fast, as I counted 8 people in the kitchen and I knew I was missing some.

The staff are also very attentive and willing to have a joke with you.  Despite the very efficient staff that they have, they also know how not to act like they’re top shit because they work at Movida Aqui.  Ah, what pros.

This “burger” is filled with fried calamari, basque guandillas and aioli.  You see, I was in love with this, and throughout the night, saw tables of five order ten of them.

They were smart.

They are smaller than they look, and they also reminded me of the only episode that I ever watched of How I Met Your Mother.  It was when they were trying to find the perfect burger in NY and one of the characters said that they wanted to eat the whole burger and sew their arse shut so that they could be with it forever.

Crass.

I already said it, don’t wince.

Deep fried baccala in piquillo peppers.

These were great, but by this stage, we were just regretting that we didn’t order more serves of the calamari instead.  We got a little fixated.

As in…we started counting how many came out of the kitchen in the time we were there.

I’ll tell you the answer after the obligatory salad.

Frisee, pearl onions and jamon.

I don’t want to say obligatory, but really, we both knew we needed something green, even if it was covered in oil, smattered with pig fat and was an all-rounded not-so-deceptively-healthy green thing.

It was amazing.

But that is because it wasn’t a real salad.

Not in the way that a cheap, disordered date will sit opposite you and say, “I’ll just have a side salad for a main and a glass of water.”

I’ve heard it.

It hurts.

This is a type of salad which gives you a five-o-clock shadow or the ability to drink cheap whiskey without showing the world your throat just tried to crawl out of your nose.

And: 28.

Movida Aqui

1, 500 Bourke St,
Melbourne, 3000
(03) 9663 3038

before I went to HK.

We could also call this, ‘An Ode to Cider,’ or, ‘I Love Provenance,’ but let’s not go too crazy.

This is the line up of the ‘new’ ciders for Cider Sunday at Provenance.  That was a few weeks ago and has obviously changed.

My new favourite. Thick, not so sweet, with a mineral salt after-taste and deeply alcoholic.

It was love at first sip, but I will tell you now that it isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea.

to Andrew McConnell.

I am sure everyone loves him because he is the Chef of the Year and such.  People rave about his restaurants and find it difficult to get a booking, but this experience, moreso than the others, made me want to get down on one knee.

Ok, I don’t believe in marriage, but maybe get down on one knee and ask for his surf clam bouillabaisse recipe which went along-side my main.

Sigh.

It was…a religious experience.

It was a plate-licking experience.

We’ll start from the beginning, shall we?

Yes, we sat at the bar and had a few drinks before we started.  Why not?  Luckily the booking after us cancelled, so we pretty much had reign over the table all night.

Go team us.

Food?

Parmesan crips, which were courtesy of Cutler.  Amazing, light, crunchy and non greasy, ending on that wonderfully pungent foot-tang that you get from parmesan.  Umami crunch.  The only way I can think that they made this, is boiling the cheese, drying it out and then deep frying it. I may be incredibly wrong, I usually am.

My friend wanted dessert, so she shared her entree with her husband and they carefully divided it on two plates for them.  How sweet.  It’s the little things that make such a big difference in the end.

Salad Lyonnaise, $19.  I so wanted to eat those confit gizzards.  You all know my unhealthy relationship with offal.

Well, fortunately for me but not so fortunate for our friend, he passed out in the bathroom and had to go home.  As my friend commented, she would usually be more concerned, but after sending him home, the experience was held together by the staff and the fact that she could finish the other half of his salad.

I know, we’ve got hearts of gold.

And confit gizzards, they taste as amazing as they sound, and trust me there is no sarcasm in my voice.

Pressed quail terrine, foie gras cigar, orange and pistachio, $23.  OMG, mine.  All mine.  I love quail and this was just a perfect little plate of gamey bird, but it was the foie gras cigar which made me melt.

Excuse me while I have a breather.

Sigh.

And the salad on the side really cut through the richness and added a crispness to the dish as well.

Hmm,

sorry.

Cigar dreams.

And you know, just because we didn’t order enough food, Cutler decided to bring out another complimentary dish.  I told you, they rock.

They rock my socks so hard right now.

Chorizo, octopus and aioli. Loved it.  They gave this to me last time I was sitting at the bar and it is a winner.  It is a smokey, crunchy and chewy deliciousness which made my housemate the colour of  envy when I showed him the photos when I got back from dinner.  He was meant to come with me, but claimed credit-card shame.

Here’s to the Boy Who Cried Credit.

Line caught local snapper, broad beans, glazed shallots, potato aioli, $39. It is a generous serving and light in flavour.  My friend loved it, but I didnt’ try any as I was too engulfed in my main.

And I am sure Amanda ate that when we went for Sunday lunch last time.

Back to what I said earlier…

“engulfed in my main…”

Pan roast leather jacket, fennel pollen, surf clam, $39.  It doesn’t look too impressive, does it?  Well, let me just say, I prefer this to the suckling pig.  As I said, a marriage worthy dish.  It is very difficult for me to make decisions on food when I am out, but I chose this dish because leather jacket is such an overlooked fish and I never see it on menus.  I grew up eating its firm, sweet flesh, but only ever cooked in a Cantonese style.  But that isn’t the point, I loved the fish, and here it has been filleted and cooked to perfection, standing alone on the plate so you can taste the its sweetness and accompany it with the roullie.  The surf clam bouillabaisse which you can see better here:

was
just
wow.  The stock was so deep in flavour, rich and salty, with the sweetness of other shellfish in it as well with the surf clams, cuttlefish, chorizo, pastina (or at least I think it was) and fennel.  Oh my god, wow.  If I wasn’t wearing white that day, I am sure I would have tilted the tiny copper pan to my mouth to catch the last drop.

But I was.

So…Andrew McConnell, wanna get hitched?

No?

That’s ok.

I understand.

I am a little bit of a freak.

I do also have to mention, my friend ordered a side of half-serve of potatoes because she

1- loves potatoes

2- loves potatoes

3-thought there wasn’t going to be enough food.

She was dead wrong and ate half the bowl of them anyways.

This made her a sad panda, because she wanted to badly to have dessert.  I definitely couldn’t do it, and decided to have a drink for dessert.  It is my favourite kind…other than cheese.

But, what do you know, the wonderful crew at Cutler bring out complimentary desserts as well, which my friend first protested to, and then ended up clearing the plates.

Blackberries, banana sorbet, brown sugar and coffee cake. I had one bite because I’m a glutton and even though I am not a dessert person, and have some issues with bananas, I absolutely adored this dish.  Different types of sweetnesses and temperatures, as well as having the natural crunch of the seeds in the blackberries made me go hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.  The staff had to take this away from be before I went into another bite and ended up in a food coma.

My friend didn’t look back.  She could cab it home.

Although, it is sad that I had this experience back then, because it may have been enough to soothe my #MOMOFUKURAGE.

What is #MOMOFUKURAGE?

Well, it all began in the days of MFWF announcing the David Chang dinner to be held at Cumulus Inc.

Tickets went on sale on Friday and sold out in 4 minutes.

That is impossible, seeing as the number provided was the main line to Cumulus and the venue seats 70.  With further investigation, a staff member admitted that only 20 of the 70 tickets were available, despite the restaurant manager saying that 50% of the tickets were available for public purchase in an email to a food-loving friend.  If they termed it an industry/media-only dinner, I am sure people would be less upset.

Sad lies.

Thus began #MOMOFUKURAGE.  I so desperately wanted to go, and I am sure many others do too.  Hopefully they will announce another dinner or I can stalk David Chang when he’s in town.  I need a new hobby anyways.

Now if you excuse me, I’ve started a punk band called #MOMOFUKURAGE and we’re looking for a drummer.

Cutler & Co.

55-57 Gertrude St,
Fitzroy, 3065.

9419 4888

It’s pretty much the story with hospitality.

And even when you leave it behind for slightly healthier and cleaner living, that little hospo bug is still inside you, waiting to come out and create havoc.

On this particular day, I had finished work, ended up at Lounge, drinking, then Tony Starr’s Kitten Club, drinking, then Gingerboy’s upstairs bar, drinking, Mezzo’s bar, drinking and finally at Longrain to eat and drink with the Lincolnites.

I was a little out of practice and I have to say I was a little bloated by this stage.

I don’t know why we settled on eating at Longrain.

It may have been the New Zealander about to leave for Thailand that did it.

Actually, I can’t remember, but here is the food (with little or no commentary).

Duck and Papaya salad, from what I remember.

Lamb curry, which I was a little suspect of as lamb isn’t a traditional ingredient in Thai cooking.  It was good, but it didn’t blow my mind, I am sorry to say.

And that is because I have been to Longrain so many times and have fallen in love with it.

We were also served by a bitch with a whole lot of attitude who was encouraging us to order more than we needed.  She was persistent and pushy and made no eye contact, and when asked for recommendations, just sighed and told us to order more.  Not very smart when you’re serving a handful of chefs and floor staff who have done the rounds.
Also, we weren’t able to finish our food, so I don’t know what type of crack she was smoking when she told us to order more, also, she was eating in sight of customers, while working, which I really disapprove of.
And maybe I am being harsh because she obviously has the hospo-blues and needs to change industry or restaurant.

A som tum, which was actually lacking in flavour.  I am used to a more pronounced fishiness and tartness that this just didn’t deliver, everything was just masked in an unbalanced amount of heat.

And then the steamed fish with ginger and spring onions.  This was great, but I only wonder why the most subtle dish came out last on the table.  I understand the concept of Longrain and they were not particularly busy this night, so why sell your own food short?

I also put this evening down to the fact that we probably didn’t order properly.  I have had many amazing dishes here, but I was sitting with a chef adverse to tofu and a dieting other, who didn’t want to eat the caramelised pork hock, and then someone else wanted to be adventerous and see how they would work lamb into Thai.

And…

We may or may not have drank more after this.

Longrain

40-44 Little Bourke St,
Melbourne, 3000

(03) 9671 3151