Disgruntlement revisited

So as you can see we have been on extended hiatus...a number of factors have contributed to the break:

1. Restaurant reviewing requires one to be going out regularly to new places. We got a)busy and b)lazy.

2. Mr K and I decided to conserve some of our surplus resources...until I become astonishingly well-known for my high quality reviews and acerbic rapier-like wit, one must assume establishments will require payment for service and meals. Ironic really, as the "service" one gets in Perth is generally a lack thereof...meals have also been a bit hit and miss...

3. We recently welcomed a little Kvetch into the world...actually, it is a big kvetch in a little Kvetch's body..ie. small package, big noise. She forcibly reduced the amount of eating out we have done in the last year, because we became acquainted with a hitherto unknown Dining Law; If You are Pregnant, You and Your Dining Companions are Worthless to Us. Even at that temple of indulgence and perfection, Vue de Monde, they badly let us down. Mr K was drinking, or was willing to (I could hardly demand he desist when you are embarking on a 12 course degustation the likes of which you have never seen before or will again, my god Shannon Bennett is a freaking genius, but I digress), I am ashamed to have to admit that they gave him one glass of wine and NEVER came back to ask him if he wanted anything else! And everyone in the entire restaurant got served and left before us...I was so tired at midnight that we had to leave before we even got our second dessert course...it was embarrassing for everyone..I actually complained (very very politely). I was mortified of course, (see above, temple of indulgence and perfection) but you cannot pay $200+ per person just for food and then be sanguine if your table suddenly becomes invisible. It was disheartening, so we stopped going out to places where we cared about service. A notable exception was Punjab in Innaloo, they have treated us with exactly the same care and attention as they always have. Just as well since for about six weeks there all I wanted to eat was Butter Chicken...sincere thanks are due to Mr K who only lost his cool once.

Right, now where was I..oh yes:

4. So here I am, proud owner of four week old (or proudly owned by a four week old, if you assign ownership by which individual jumps to do the other's imperious bidding), and leaving the house to eat out seems a bit unachievable for awhile, even if like myself, you aim high. Frankly, leaving the house to get milk and bread seems aiming a bit high...

5. However, I am home and not having to attend the Place Where Bad Things Happen daily, and we still have to eat, and I still love to cook (bless the Internet and online grocery shopping).

6. Therefore, on a semi-regular basis, and in keeping with the theme of this blog, we shall attempt to avoid Dietary Disgruntlement and I shall post the results of my cooking (and eating) adventures. If I do get a chance to add in a review here or there I will do that too.

7. Please note, I never follow a recipe exactly unless it is something that involves yeast or baking powder (and even then, I often tweak) so results may vary - both yours and mine :)

An Indian Odyssey

There are multitudes of Indian Restaurants in Perth these days…I am not sure whether it is due to the changing dietary whims of the Australian population, relaxed immigration policy or both – but I think its excellent (the wide choice I mean, not necessarily the quality of every establishment that pops up like a mushroom in the damp cardboard box that is Perth’s suburbia).

For this week’s exciting instalment, I have chosen to review three that we have visited recently…most Thursday nights see us installed (we hope) comfortably in an Indian restaurant sampling a wide range of dishes.

Balti (Perth CBD)

I had occasion to visit Balti on the corner of St Georges/Adelaide Terrace and Victoria Avenue a few weeks ago with a work function and was very pleasantly surprised at the time. The Mr K had the day off work one day, and was able to meet me for lunch so we decided we’d try it again to determine whether it was a one-off or worth a mention. We have since been back for dinner, just to make sure… The fit-out is modern Indian/Australian – by which I mean that it isn’t your typical gaudy red/pink and gold with sparkles and tasselled elephants everywhere, (although it does feature pink as a prominent colour – I don't want you to be disappointed). It also features polished wooden floors, the leather chairs are comfortable and you do not have to shout across the table to be heard. The effect is clean and simple, and the noise level of an evening is tolerable. Wait-staff are prompt and efficient, if a wee bit robotic.

One of our faves here is the Chicken or Goat Biryani ($17-18). The aroma is divine, rice texture is perfect, the meat is beautiful and spice has an excellent depth – just be careful of getting a cardamom pod stuck in your teeth. The Chicken in Saffron and Almond Sauce ($24) is very mild, but still very flavourful – the chicken is tender and in our experience doesn’t involve you accidentally getting any gristly, fatty bits. The sauce is brilliant mopped up with a bit of garlic naan ($4.5 ea). We have also tried the Hyderbadi-Style Fish Korma ($25) which is tasty but not optimum if you are a spice lover, and the Goat Curry ($25) which is brilliant if you like a rich spicy curry with oodles of flavour (I advise Raita on the side). The meat is on the bone, but this does not detract from the experience.

The wine list is not too shabby, we like the Momo Sauvignon Blanc ($40) from Marlborough, NZ (where else!). They also feature a decent selection of local and imported beers.

9Marys (Perth CBD)

I will admit from the outset I feel duped with this one. I visited the first time over 18 months ago, and was left with a hazy but pleasant memory of the food. We tried it again last night in our quest for the perfect Indian and were disappointed. Let me explain…

The fit out of 9marys (sister to Chutney in Subiaco) is quite similar to Balti in the clean, modern chairs and tables, and bright but not over-powering Warhol-esque prints of Queen Mary on the wall. The dining room is quite sophisticated looking, and holds some long high tables and chairs in addition to the usual level dining, which provides some interest. We had occasion to be served by a couple of different wait staff, one bright, bubbly and cheerful but still professional in manner, two others who would not open their mouths and seemed ready to pounce on you the second your plate was empty to whisk it away (by ‘second’ I mean ‘while you are still chewing the mouthful which rendered the plate empty’). It was like being stalked by a hungry vulture…

I hear you, Dear Reader…you are thinking, ‘Ooh if the plates were emptied, it must mean the food was good’. I am sorry to disappoint you, but the plates were emptied because the portions were so small as to make emptying them necessary for our survival until breakfast this morning. Lest I appear to slander, let me hasten to add that the dishes we had were cooked exceedingly well. The Tandoori Tasting plate ($36) was excellent, samples of Tandoori salmon, chicken, homemade paneer and prawns with mint chutney. The size, although decent, was a bit small for the price, but no matter we thought – taste triumphs over value for money quibbles any day. We also ordered Butter Chicken ($26) (in our defence, this is only because the Butter Chicken we had once by accident at the Cinnamon Club and thereafter on purpose is truly excellent; more of a true Murgh Makhani than some mild red slop out of a jar), this came with four small pieces of chicken, and an accompanying sauce. It was nicely cooked and the meat was tender, but flavour-wise left so much to be desired. I think if you added a bit of cream and tomato to the Patak’s Butter Chicken sauce you could get a similar taste. The 9mary’s website informs me that Indian dishes are rarely served ‘steaming hot’ by which I infer that they are referring to the amount of spice present, they also inform me that they ‘delicately blend’ their spices ‘ in meticulous proportions’ to create their dishes. They may be right, but I prefer the delicately blended, meticulous proportions of the Cinnamon Club for this one. Our final dish was the Goat Biryani for One ($19). Again, we were disappointed – perfectly cooked grains of rice, goat on the bone, but lacking in flavour, and such a small serve. Balti, for approximately the same price, represents far better value for money in addition to flavour superiority, and I am not even going to discuss Cinnamon Club’s offering at this point (please see rhapsody below).

The wine list is adequate, but hideously over-priced, in my opinion. The Momo we had at Balti for $40 is on the menu at 9marys for $50, and they have no BYO option (we witnessed them confiscate the bottle of the unsuspecting couple who were seated next to us). My research indicates you can buy this wine for $20 or under when paying retail bottle shop prices. My sense of justice tells me the mark-up at 9marys falls into the category of ‘we have the poor unsuspecting bastards captive – lets squeeze them for every cent’.

To top it all off - we were entertained during our dinner by the playful antics of two resident cockroaches under our table/end Kvetch.

Cinnamon Club (Leederville)

I was recently accused by a close relative of not writing reviews reflective of my usual dining haunts. My justification involved a convoluted yet valid logic that a) people enjoy reading reviews of poor dinners I have had rather than those I really enjoyed and b) if I tell everyone where the good places are, I will not be able to just rock up for dinner there whenever I choose. It will become like Ha-Lu, where I now have to think about it a week or so in advance. That said, I see her point. And I am writing about Indian restaurants anyway – so it is fitting that we discuss the Cinnamon Club.

**Warning: I like this establishment very much, if you are easily bored, you may wish to tune out now**

A few months ago, on an ill-fated (or so we thought) rainy Wednesday night, we tried to get into Ha-Lu and were knocked back (see previous post). We were in Mt Hawthorn anyway, so was a drive of five minutes to Leederville and the Cinnamon Club. We’d been ages before with a bunch of people and remembered it vaguely. It was busy, but a snap of the fingers from the manager and we were seated at the back of the restaurant (it was near the cutlery station, but really, it made no difference until the end of the night when the ambient noise died down a bit, and then the rhythmic crash became a little monotonous). It was conspicuously excellent. It still is.

The Cinnamon Club has a slightly funkier fit out than either Balti or 9marys – a little retro; with massive orange lamp shades and comfy booths if you are lucky enough to snag one. The service is friendly and efficient, but when the dining room is heaving with a mass of well-dressed individuals also clever enough to be there, you might need to occasionally avail yourself of an attention-seeking manoeuvre (by which I do not mean John Travolta style Saturday Night Fever dance moves tabletop [unless you really want to]– more of a smile/wave situation).

We have enjoyed everything we have ever ordered here – honestly. The tasting plates come in three varieties; Vegetarian ($20.5), Mixed ($26.5) and Tandoori ($28.5). The Tandoori is probably my favourite; I love the spiciness of the Seekh Kebab, and the Keema Naan is fantastic. We have settled into a bit of a routine unfortunately; we generally have a tasting plate and two dishes – three leaves you a) unable to walk, and b) with heaps of leftovers. The first dish is invariably the Chicken Biryani (for two people, $34). This is absolutely brilliant, the chicken is tender and gristle-free, rice texture is perfect, its perfectly spiced, and comes with raita and poppadums. We have yet to make it to the bottom of the Biryani bowl, we always end up with someone (not me) getting lunch the next day out of it. The second dish can vary; the Beef Vindaloo ($20.5) is mind-bogglingly hot and I don’t recommend it unless you have a cast-iron stomach, the Butter Chicken ($20.5) is outstanding and has a bit of kick (see above review for detail), the Malai Kofta (cheese and potato dumplings in cashew nut gravy, $15.5) is mild but very rich and a welcome nice change from the usual Indian fare.

We normally have a bottle (or two, depending on how bad the day was) of the Alkoomi Sauvignon Blanc (WA, $38.5) here, the wine list is small but liveable. However; they do offer BYO at $6.50 per bottle, which means if you are organised, you can buy your Momo for $20, and it will still cost you 188% less than it would at 9marys.

So there we have it folks – a trilogy of reviews to mark my triumphant return to the blogosphere (until the next time my day job ruins my social life).

What do you reckon? Had better?

Ha-Lu (yah!)

Mr K and I have been to Ha-Lu on Oxford St (Scarborough Beach Rd end) a few times, but the last two times we have rocked up without a reservation we have been turned away (even though once it was at 6pm for an early dinner and the place was EMPTY, literally…). The Cinnamon Club has been getting the fall-out business because of it’s geographical proximity (and the food is fabulous but that’s another story). We decided to give it one more try before we gave up, and last night, on a rainy Wednesday, they let us eat there.

The fit-out is modern and unobtrusive, the chairs are comfortable (although they tend to shriek terribly when moved across the wooden floor), and the service is excellent. We both love Japanese food, the emphasis on fresh ingredients and clean flavours draws us back to good Japanese restaurants again and again, but Ha-Lu is slightly different in that it is more of a tapas-style arrangement. The menu states that most parties order 2-3 dishes per person, and from our experience this is about right. We started by ordering the Special of the Day – Tuna Tataki with a citrus soy sauce, Agedashi Tofu, Crumbed Oysters, Dorper Lamb Cutlets and Okonomi-yaki.

The wine list is adequate, if not particularly thrilling, and on previous visits we have had the Alkoomi Sauvignon Blanc ($41) which is unobtrusive with the style of food. This time we ordered a bottle of Otuwhero O:Tu Sauvignon Blanc ($44, Marlborough NZ), just for a change. It was more mineral toned than fruit, and contrasted well with the mouth feel of some of the dishes we ordered. I would like to try their Shochu or Sake menu (which is extensive), but the waitperson put us on the spot so we went with the wine by default.

The Tuna Tataki ($14) was just warm, the tuna meaty and tender and the citrus soy sauce tangy but not over-powering. I could have used a little wasabi mayo for dipping variety, but I could justify wasabi mayo with just about any seafood dish, so it was in no way necessary.

The Agedashi Tofu ($8.5) was homemade silken tofu very lightly deep fried in broth with bonito flakes and spring onion. The broth was flavoursome, but the tofu quite difficult to eat as it was incredibly soft and so lightly fried. It would have been better if it had spent a moment or two longer in the oil to develop more of a chopstick-able crust.

The Crumbed Oysters ($16) came out in a multiple of 5, which seemed a bit strange and like the chef is trying to buy-six-get-one-free. Individually, they were larger than we remembered, we recall them being more tempura-like on a previous visit (Mr.K maintains it was the deep fried oysters at Ha-Lu that led to the production of our own version at home), but the mild chilli sauce was excellent despite my reservations and the oysters meaty and juicy. Mr K kindly sacrificed the last oyster to me, as he had ordered a side of rice (no, I don’t get it either) and despite a superficial protest, I took him up on the offer promptly. Excellent.

We went with two Dorper Lamb Cutlets ($16) but you can order four for $30. They came with two small triangles of crumbed camembert (we are not sure why) and a bit of mixed vegetable, as well as the world’s smallest spot of mustard and a artfully swirled reduced sauce of some unknown variety (tasty in any event). The cutlets themselves were meaty, tender and flavourful and reminded us of our plan to buy a side of lamb for home consumption.

Mr K and I first ate Okonomi-yaki at a Japanese restaurant in Queenstown NZ, and loved it (although it was nearly indiscernible under a mountain of bonito flakes). We have not seen it appear on menus of the Japanese restaurants we normally patronise, and when I spied it tacked on the end of the menu, we had to sample it. We were not disappointed with the Ha-Lu version ($16)– this is such a homely comforting dish; a cross between a pancake and an omelette, containing small pieces of octopus mixed with cheese and cabbage and of course Okonomi-yaki sauce and Japanese mayo. The only minor kvetch I can summon up in relation to this dish is that Mr K and I both thought it had a tiny excess of ginger; some mouthfuls bit back.

At the end of this line of adorable dishes and the bottle of wine we decided we were still a tiny bit peckish, and ordered two favourites from previous visits; the ‘tartar style sashimi of the day’ ($10.5), and the crumbed camembert with blueberry sauce ($9.8). We also ordered two glasses of the Lenton Brae Semillon Sauvignon Blanc ($10.5 per glass, never had it before, don’t bother), which we saw the server pour into a measuring cup before it went into our glasses, amusing but eerily in keeping with our 5-oyster half dozen. Dangerous ground…

We assumed that the sashimi would precede the cheese, which would be a nice finishing touch. We were wrong, but it ensured our evening ended on the highest possible note. The cheese was nice and soft, but the blueberry sauce has evolved from a sweet syrup to very tiny tinned blueberries, quite tart, and we won’t bother with this dish again. The tartar style sashimi was exquisite, and I wish we had ordered it in our first lot as we were considering. The sashimi of the day was salmon, tuna and pearl perch, and this is tiny pieces of each mixed with lightly spicy chilli sauce and formed into a mound, then topped with sliced pear, spring onion and served with wasabi mayo (hurray!) for dipping and fried tortilla (slightly incongruous I know) for easier scoopage. Absolutely brilliant, and reminded us why we had persisted in returning a third time after being knocked back twice. You could logically argue that we could have returned at any time if we had thought to book first, but I believe I have explained the mostly-disorganised nature of our dining pleasure (or lack thereof) in previous posts.

Total bill was $164.30 pre-tip, and worth it. You may wish to ensure the pleasure of dining there by booking first. Their number is 9444-0577.

(No more) the Cream of the crop..

For Mr K’s birthday recently, I booked a table at one of my long-standing favourite restaurants, Cream. Its tucked away in East Perth, and I have been going there regularly since it opened - I have always loved the furry walls and mood lighting, as well as the food and wine list. The service has always been solid as well. You can therefore see my logic; Birthday + Romantic Dinner a deux = Cream. My mathematical genius is clearly an inverse of how often I use Excel, because my calculations were well out of alignment (perhaps I forgot to carry the one?).

We booked into the 8pm dinner service (they only do two, 6:30 and 8pm), therefore arriving around the same time as everyone else did. We had been placed at a table right at the front of the restaurant, directly opposite the cash register, so as people came in to be seated, or went to pay, their bottoms were perching on the edge of our table (this could have been an edifying view for some, perhaps I just wasn’t in the right mood) . The front door does not close properly, and all night as people left or went out to smoke we were treated to gusts of frigid air amidst the SLAM of the door in the wind. Our drinks orders were taken reasonably quickly, and we got a bottle of sparkling, Stefano Lubiano NV Brut ($70) to share over entrée. It wasn’t anything special, but their bubbles list is n0t extensive, and it did the job.

Occasionally, the wait for food at Cream has become a little tedious, and knowing this, when we ordered dinner I ordered bread, olives, and their very more-ish homemade pate ($3.5pp for bread, $5.5 for pate) so we didn’t starve to death. It took 45 minutes to get out to us, and only arrived after one of the staff asked why a bread plate was still sitting on the pass after half an hour (we were close enough to hear). During this wait, the rest of the restaurant had their orders taken, and were served their entrée courses, and ours was the only table that missed out - I must have accidentally worn my Invisibility Cloak (I normally keep it for when my Mum drops around). Despite the arduous and frustrating wait, I very rarely complain in a restaurant, and it was Mr K’s birthday, so we waited it out until I finally cracked and asked a passing staff member whether we might be having dinner…

An hour and a half after we arrived at the restaurant, after everyone else was finished their main course, our entrees of a Fried Parmesan Polenta ‘Egg’, with a ‘Molten Gorgonzola Core’ and Spanish Salt Cod & Potato Croquettes (both $23.5) were delivered to our table. My polenta egg was tasty, but I found no gorgonzola ‘core’ in it, molten or otherwise. I ended up trading with Mr. K, because he was bitterly disappointed with his Salt Cod croquettes (if you want excellent specimens of this genre, may I suggest Duende?). As you can imagine, after the wait, these were very speedily disposed of, and only 15 minutes after our entrees made their grand entrance, our main courses of Marinated Lamb Fillet and Braised Baby Beef ($36.5 and $35.5 respectively) were served.

Mr K lucked out there – the baby beef was absolutely superb, melt in your mouth gorgeousness accompanied by potatoes, green beans and a beautiful jus. The marinated lamb was tender and flavourful, but no comparison, and although I adore garlic, the sweet potato mash tasted of it to the point of bitterness. We had ordered a bottle of Te Whare Ra (pronounced: Teh Ferry Rah) Pinot Noir ($75) to go with our mains, and after its 90 minute breather on the table, it was fabulous. We stumbled across this winery on our NZ holiday, and it was so lovely to see it on a menu, even if the waiter did keep looking at me as though I was pronouncing the name wrong (helpful hint: they tell you how on the back of the bottle if you’ve not had the good fortune to pay a visit to the vineyard).

Due to the speediness of the main course, the bottle was only half drunk by the time the last morsel of beef had been eaten, but we waited in vain to be given a cheese or dessert menu. It eventually appeared, but wasn’t followed with anyone to take an order until well after our patience was exhausted. Finally a lovely waitperson appeared who apologised profusely for the service and blamed it on a ‘function’ of twelve. I gently (honestly!) explained that as everyone else in the restaurant was served and satisfied prior to us even receiving entrees, I had difficulty accepting that as a suitable excuse, particularly as the table of two behind us had service and food all evening. She was unable to fault our logic and credited the cost of our entrees off the bill without us asking for recompense but as you know, this rarely reconciles one to the loss of what should be a fabulous dining experience. The feeling of loss is all the more bitter when you have had wonderful experiences in the past, and it’ll be awhile before I am brave enough to try again, if at all.

Verdict? Have a snack before you go, or borrow a high visibility vest (with a whistle and a light for attracting attention).

RIP...La Bruschetta

Once upon a time, two adventurers headed off into the Perth suburban blackness, in search of a decent meal close to home. They stumbled across La Bruschetta in Tuart Hill, and they saw that it was good. As a replacement for mid-week dinner cooking (and associated washing-up), it was frequented with embarrassing regularity – so much so that said adventurers had a standing discount, and when the owners changed prawn providers for their Linguine Gamberi, they were asked to provide feedback (and their opinion listened to!). After many months of happiness, the establishment changed hands….

The first time we went back to La Bruschetta after the change in ownership, the only thing missing was the owner and the chef – the menu and décor were exactly the same. Hesitantly ordering our old favourites (Linguini Gamberi and the Lamb Salad), everything seemed to be fine, and Mr K and I heaved a great sigh of relief. And that, unfortunately, is the last time this establishment was blameless (in our eyes at least). In the months since the sale, we have seen the food quality and service plummet, and the prices remain the same. We have tried on a number of occasions to recapture the magic, and I recount for you our most recent, and final dining experience.

On a Wednesday night, Mr K and I needed a quick dinner before another engagement, and decided to give La Bruschetta a go. Neither of us was starving, and the last time one of us had ordered Linguine Gamberi, it was truly awful, so we each went with a pizza. I should make very clear to you, Dear Reader, that neither Mr K nor myself are of Italian origin, far from it. To further disclaim, neither of us is a professional chef, and we are not possessed of a commercial kitchen or a pizza oven. That said, we could easily (and regularly do) produce better quality pizzas with far better ingredients than these two offerings, anyone could…even the spotty employees of Eagle Boys. The crusts were dry and tasteless on both, and for some reason known only to the cook (I hesitate to pronounce him chef) laden with pepper. The BBQ Chicken pizza ($19) was smeared with a commercial BBQ sauce, which I am certain can be found in a brown bottle with a yellow cap on your supermarket shelf. The La Bruschetta Special (tomato, bocconcini and prosciutto, $23.00) was bland and tasteless (apart from the pepper); liberally spotted with a very poor quality cheese and with ‘Italian prosciutto’ that was most definitely not prosciutto as we know it, Jim. The best thing about the entire meal was the bottle of Evans and Tate Classic we purchased to wash it down with. The owner gave us a 10% discount without us complaining, whether as an enticement to future dining or a standard apology, I am not sure. It wasn’t enough - mid-week dinner or not, it is simply not worth the frustration or the indigestion.

It’s a pity really, under the old owners, the place was always packed, and the food of reassuringly decent quality. The specials were interesting, the staff pleasant, and I once had a banana pudding that was simply spectacular. That often seems to be the problem though; new owners come in and try to make more profit out of the same type of offering that made the establishment successful in the first place. It doesn’t work, and I really wish they’d stop trying. Most of us are not stupid, and I resent being treated as though I am. If you aren’t either, maybe give La Bruschetta a wide berth…

The Broken Hill Hotel..

Whilst on a search for a new vehicle, Mr K and I found ourselves far from our spiritual home of slightly North of the River, and in Victoria Park. The search not being successful, we were both hungry and thirsty (although not nearly as hungry and thirsty as the car salesmen...the GFC is obviously hitting them hard and the level of desperation is most discomfiting) - neither of us had been to the Broken Hill and it looked like a decent lunch choice. The facade of the hotel is gorgeous, the inside is contemporary re-done Perth hotel decor; nothing spectacular, but more than adequate, and the music was appropriately ambient. There wasn’t a server immediately to hand when we walked into the restaurant, and the chef popped out of the kitchen to attend to us (maybe we are not as sketchy looking as previously pondered). We decided to sit outside on the restaurant verandah, and were speedily attended to in the way of drink orders and menus.

We shared half a dozen tempura oysters to start ($3.50 each and a fave for both of us); they were hot and pleasantly crispy but served only with a wedge of lemon. A soy and ginger sauce or even some wasabi mayo would have been most welcome, they were a little boring without. As with anything I can knock up decently at home, I expect the product of a commercial kitchen and trained chefs to be better than my own – but if you don’t like to be splattered with the occasional bit of oil, these were a good substitute (maybe ask for a side of aioli?).

I decided on the Tandoori Lamb Pizza ($19.00) and Mr K had the Middle Eastern Spiced Lamb Burger ($17.50) (no conspiracy – they just sounded good). Servings were generous - I hadn’t a hope of finishing my pizza, despite the tenderness of the lamb, and even Mr K’s appetite was taxed by the size of the burger and chips. A slight kvetch noted was that the pizza would have been improved with a little chilli or slightly more Tandoori paste; it was a little (but only a little) on the bland side. On a positive note, Mr K’s chips were magnificent – it is almost impossible to get a serve of properly crispy chips lately (honestly people, a couple more minutes cooking is all it takes, it is counter intuitive to undercook them just to get the order on the pass a minute or so quicker, remember customer satisfaction? It’s that thing we look after so people come back, and we keep our jobs) and these were perfect.

On another very pleasant note, may I just mention that the service was excellent? We were the only couple seated outside, and we were not neglected. The server regularly popped out to top up water and wine (!) and to check that we were happy with everything. It is lovely to be unexpectedly impressed with service in Perth, and it happens so rarely that it deserves special mention. If it wasn’t for my disinclination to travel outside my 10km radius (I didn’t grow up in Perth, but somehow I seem to have assumed this characteristic in spite of my best efforts) I would probably return regularly, just for that.

Verdict? Decent pub grub, well cooked and well served. Give it a try if you can wrest yourselves from the grasp of the car salesmen...

Le Paris Brest....

After years of hearing about how fabulous it is, Mr K and I went to Le Paris Brest for lunch on Sunday…this was clearly the fatal error in our quest for a nice meal.

It was a lovely day, perfect for a drive, and on a Sunday it doesn’t take too long to get to Kalamunda from the city. We found it tucked away on Haynes St fairly easily, and it didn’t appear overly busy, but we stood there in the doorway like idiots for a minute or two while we tried to ascertain whether one seats oneself, or is seated. Eventually I grabbed a staff member who said, “sit anywhere” and we foraged for a menu on the front counter (it was not offered). The menu is small, and it was quite difficult to find something to eat. Eventually we decided we would get a gnocchi ($18.99) and a baby snapper ($24.99). No one came to take our order, so I went and stood in the massive line up at the counter (which would have been much smaller if it hadn’t been full of parties of retirees wanting to know the chemical composition of EVERY SINGLE PASTRY on offer). I tried to order, and apparently they were ‘out of snapper’, so we ended up with two gnocchi’s instead.

Mr K wanted a chocolate milkshake and I had heard their coffee was good so ordered a latte. Eventually (about 15 minutes, which considering their level of busyness did not fall into my ‘acceptable’ category),the milkshake came out. Mr K felt there was something missing, and after taste tests and discussion, he came to the conclusion it was the ‘chocolate’ part of ‘chocolate milkshake’ that was lacking, however, my coffee was good though scalding hot.

After waiting a bit more, the gnocchi arrived. A note about this; they obviously made them in the same pan at the same time, and I have no problem with that…but it was supposed to be with tomato, onions and olives - I got all of the olives, and Mr K got all of the tomato. The gnocchi itself was beautifully soft and very filling, even factoring in the absent sauce components.

Whilst we were eating, a couple seated behind us were brought menus and given table service, so I am not sure whether Mr K and I are sketchy looking specimens, or whether we were just so far under the median age of patrons it was felt we didn’t need to be served. Interestingly, the gentleman behind us tried to order the Pork Burger, and was told that it was being made with veal today, so I deduce the kitchen’s ordering procedures leave a little to be desired.

A note about the décor – fussy beyond belief..think Shabby Chic meets your Nana’s lounge room. There were a few nice bits and pieces – a set of vintage wall clocks, a couple of interesting block prints etc – but it was so cluttered with ceramics, plaques and other detritus littering the walls that we found it impossible to relax. It was clearly decorated (and I use that term in the loosest sense of the word) with a geriatric audience in mind. We didn’t sample the famed pastries – we would have had to line up again, and it was looking like another 10 to 15 minute wait in the queue from hell with Maude and Hazel and all of their friends from the home, oops I mean lifestyle village.

On the Ms Kvetch Annoyance Scale – this scored about a 7.5. Don’t bother unless a) your Nana wants a day out and b) you’ve dosed up on Valium or similar.

/end Kvetch

And we're back...

We apologise for the unscheduled outage, and can only explain that there have been limited dining experiences to discuss in recent weeks. We hope that full services will be resumed shortly...

Mr K and I had a day off in the middle of the week together recently (not a common occurrence), and decided to go for lunch. As far as I am concerned, if it’s a sunny day – Il Lido in Cottesloe is THE place to go. I love it - the place is warehouse-style funky, with long wooden tables, great ambience and decent music. More importantly, the food is brilliant, and the wine list long and involved.

We’ve been here a few times before and enjoyed items from the tapas menu – they are always fresh, imaginative and more-ish. Unfortunately we didn’t have time for a long, lingering lunch, so we just had some bread ($2 pp) to start. They have excellent sourdough, and they pour the EVOO and balsamic at the table. We had a white wine by the glass, I couldn’t tell you what it was, it was French, unpronounceable (despite my stunning high school French), and it was ok, but nothing special (Disclaimer: Both Mr K and I had been down with some sort of plague, our taste buds were probably not as discerning as they could be).

For main, Mr K had the potato gnocchi with tomato, very fresh tasting, if a tiny bit plain. I had the chestnut and pumpkin ravioli with sage and butter sauce. It was divine – the only slight kvetch was that the fried sage leaves were a bit twiggy. I cannot remember how much the pastas were exactly, and they have a website that has been “Under Construction” for as long as I have been going there (about 2 years?), but I think they are around the $22 mark. They also have that amazing characteristic I normally attribute to Indian food – the size of the serving looks small, but is in fact more than enough to sate your appetite (and if for some reason it doesn’t there is always dessert or cheese to lend a helping hand).

The service is great – the interior is quite large, and it could take you a while to get served, but it never does. The staff are friendly and knowledgeable and the whole place has a fabulous laid back feel without compromising on the important stuff. I have never been there when it is full, so I don’t know how well the communal dining setting works if you happen to get packed in like sardines, and this might be a concern. I have had many a dining experience that has been adversely affected by people who clearly have nothing left in their lives to discuss – not just in Perth either, one such experience in Melbourne at Mini is a standout…the couple listening to us not only shamelessly eavesdropped, but commented audibly on the results thereof… I would sincerely hope that at Il Lido you would avoid this dining abomination, everything else works so well.

Go and check it out – I really don’t think disappointment will be on the cards.

The Imp - Victoria Park

Ensemble:



Ms Kvetch: breakfast-eater catching up with friends



Lovely Very Pregnant Friend (P1): quite self explanatory really.



Lovely Slightly-less-pregnant Friend (P2): see above



Dumb Girl at till



Mute Wait-thing



Barista/Manager Type

To set the scene: Saturday morning in Victoria Park, The Imp Cafe. Walk into cafe and find friends squeezed in a table at the back. Impression of messiness and not very much care. Check out breakfast menu, realise you have to order and pay at the front counter.
Ms Kvetch and P2 walk to front counter to order.



Barista/Manager Type: Will you be paying separately?



Ms K: yes please



Barista/Manager Type: what coffees would you like, and I will get them started now



Ms K: a flat white and a latte please



P2: a cappuccino



Dumb Girl at till: What can I get you?



P2: scrambled eggs on toast with a side order of bacon and a cappuccino



Dumb Girl at till (to Ms K): What can I get you?



Ms K: the first order will be the Imp Big Breakfast with scrambled eggs and sourdough toast and a flat white.



Dumb Girl at till (looks at bench with coffee order on it): so a big breakfast with a latte



Ms Kvetch realises there is no point in arguing



Ms K: and the second order will be eggs Florentine on sourdough toast with a side of hash browns and a flat white.



Ms K pays and she and P2 return to seats.



A very short time later, Mute Wait-thing arrives at table with a cappuccino and a flat white, and stands at table, looking like brain has just shut down to conserve battery life.



Mute Wait-thing: “ “



Ms K, P1, P2 look expectantly at MWT, and realise she could stand there vacantly all day



P2: the cappuccino is mine



MWT: “ “



MWT places coffees on table and backs away.
Dumb Girl from till arrives with latte a moment later. P1 asks for more sugar (What is it with Perth and only giving patrons one sugar with their coffee? NO ONE I KNOW TAKES ONE SUGAR AND YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO ASK FOR MORE AND THEN THE WAIT STAFF SIGH LIKE YOU ARE BEING PROBLEMATIC. GIVE US APPROPRIATE AMOUNTS OF SWEETENER IN THE FIRST PLACE! Goddammit but people are stupid).



Cue general chat and cafe noises





MWT returns to table with a Big Breakfast and Eggs on Toast and stands vacantly at table.



MWT: “ “





P1: the Big Breakfast is mine.



MWT: “ “



MWT places plates on tables and backs away silently. Returns a minute or so later with Eggs Florentine.



Ms K: could we please have some cutlery?



MWT: yes

The crowd goes wild, curtain closes. End Act.

Ok, down to the serious business of the food. The short answer? Pretty average. And here is why:

The Eggs on Toast ($9) was a very bare plate, eggs were a bit gluggy looking and the “side” of bacon ($3.50) was the smallest side I have ever seen...perhaps they were trying to reduce the chance of P2 contracting Swine Flu in her maternal state? The Big Breakfast ($19) by comparison was MASSIVE. Again, eggs didn’t look that great, but P1 said that whatever they did to the mushrooms was nice (I venture sautéed with butter and a little cream from the looks of them). The baked beans looked very rich and lovely, and I tried a mouthful, but I wouldn’t try a second – they were incredibly bland. There were also hash browns, which were a bit novel, they were round and deep-fried – more of a potato croquette. I had these as a side ($3.50) with my Eggs Florentine. They were good, but a bit undercooked and sloppy in the centres. I would turn the deep fryer down a little and give them some more time to cook.

My Eggs Florentine ($13.00) was two poached eggs on sourdough toast with raw spinach and something that looked like Hollandaise sauce, but didn’t have any flavour (“It’s Hollandaise, but not as we know it Jim”). And a personal bugbear of mine, the eggs, although poached properly in boiling water tasted like the white vinegar that had been used to keep them together. I hate that.

The Fiori coffee was not robust, certainly not as nice as expected, and P1’s flat white was cold.

This one was my fault, I picked the cafe, but in my defence I have absolutely no knowledge of Vic Park, and went off their website and the Eating WA review. More fool me. Sorry ladies!

(Has anyone else been here?)

Divido

As promised, here is a review of a 'proper' restaurant...



Divido in Mt Hawthorn used to be one of my favouritist restaurants – but a year or so ago, they stopped doing breakfasts and lunches on the weekends. THEN they got a good review in The West or Sunday Times or something, and then you had to start booking. Most annoying, especially when you are not organised diners, so we hadn’t been for awhile.

We went back mid-week recently, after a quite hideous day at the office. We could only get a table for 8pm, and the place was pretty full. They haven’t messed with the inside too much, the retro lighting, and tree scapes are still there, but they have included some banquettes down the middle of the dining room. What they HAVE changed is the menu. They used to have a number of tapas-style plates – Divido meaning ‘to share’, and these have disappeared unfortunately (many a long Saturday lunch have I enjoyed at Divido, and it seems a pity that aspect is gone). Wood-fired pizza is also off, and the menu has shrunk substantially. I don’t mind this generally, as it normally follows that more care is taken with what remains, but you do run the risk of not feeling like anything that is there. They are running a degustation menu concurrently, but it just appeared to be tastes of the regular offerings.

We decided on the Vitello Tonato ($22) and Marron ($27) to start. We advised our waitperson that we would be sharing, and the marron actually came out in the main size, much to the disgust of the nosy couple seated next to us. They had each had the marron to start, and She was not amused we got a larger size (and we were having another plate!). The Vitello was a clear winner here, the veal was meltingly tender, and reminded me of the carpaccio I used to get there regularly. This was a lovely balanced plate, the only thing I would have changed was the use of the caper berries. They used the large berries with stems, and I think the smaller capers in salt would have finished it more effectively. The marron, unfortunately (despite the size!) was not as special. For some reason known only to himself, on the day, Chef Jason Jujnovich was preparing these split in half, grilled, and covered in fresh red chili with a little garlic (I note the menu states wood roasted with garlic and dried oregano) . I adore spicy food – one day I shall give you a run down of my favourite Indian restaurants, but it just didn’t work with the marron. If you are showcasing a gorgeous little WA ingredient, why overwhelm that delicate taste with chili? The standout was the postage stamp sized portion of kipfler potato salad included on the plate – lovely fresh vinaigrette dressing.

We asked the waitperson for a suggestion on a white by the glass to have with entrée, and she came back with a suggestion of a Rose for the vitello and a Chardonnay for the marron, but as a Rose is the one varietal that neither Mr K or I will touch (I lie a little, I once in Queenstown tried a Rose from Amisfield Estate, and it was quite drinkable, but I would still never buy a glass of it, let alone a bottle), we went with the Innocent Bystander Chardonnay. It was not too bad – definitely better than the Sav Blanc by the same vineyard. Really though, a fruity and crisp Sav Blanc would have suited both entrees just fine. Veal is red meat, yes, but it’s not so meaty that it requires a red wine, and as tuna mayonnaise is served with the Vitello Tonato, I think the right white works nicely.

For a bottle of red with dinner, I couldn’t decide between the Mt Difficulty Pinot Noir ($71) or the Chateau de Campuget Shiraz/Grenache/Mourvedre ($69), and I asked the same waitperson for an opinion. She suggested the French wine, and since we often don’t bother with the French (apart from cheese), we went ahead with it. With a Shiraz blend, you expect some pepper, and while this gave you a little hint of it in the bouquet, it didn’t follow through in taste, and there was NO finish. If Jesus was turning the water into wine, this would be the result of him getting bored part way through. I think just on the face of it, the Mt Difficulty would have suited better – you know what you are getting with a Pinot from Central Otago, nice big berry/cherry flavours and a bit of spice. That said, I asked for her opinion - if it wasn’t the same as my own, that isn’t her fault (how balanced and fair am I?).

For main, Mr K had the quail ($36) and I had the duck (also $36). Both of these had perfectly brown crispy skin, and beautiful flavour, but I think mine was the winner. The meat was incredibly tender, and the jus worked perfectly with the organic buckwheat polenta. We also got truffle mash and a red cabbage, walnut and gorgonzola salad ($8 each). The mash was a good texture and tasty, but as usual, if there was a hint of truffle taste in there I missed it. Perhaps they waft a truffle past the field? It really is a case of the Emperor’s New Potatoes, and it is not just a Divido phenomenon - I struggle to think of a restaurant where I have actually tasted said truffle in the mash. If you are not going to use it, or your contribution is a drop of infused oil per pot of potatoes, please don’t bother. Put something else in it, put nothing else in it, but don’t advertise something that isn’t there/end Kvetch. The salad, on the other hand, was an absolute delight. Crispy cabbage, lovely dressing, toasted walnuts, blue cheese and the occasional sultana. With the duck, it was bliss.

We end up sharing a dessert – there was a persimmon and apple crumble that looked interesting, but somehow I prefer to make my own with these things, so we went with the Chocolate Nemesis tart ($15), and a bottle of the Two Hands Moscato ($36). The chocolate tart was good, not over-sweet, but could have used more crème fraiche and strawberry compote as accompaniment. The Moscato was most drinkable, light and not cloying – you may buy me some for my next birthday if you are so inclined.

We didn’t have coffee – it was a school night, and I couldn’t afford the staring-at-the-ceiling time it would have entailed, but from memory, their coffee is good, and I have never had a burnt one.

One more slight kvetch: the middle aged couple sitting next to us unashamedly listened to our conversation all night. From this I deduce that a) they have been married too long and b) they have no pets or children – both of whom make excellent dinner conversation when you have nothing left to say to each other (Mr K and I are clearly not at this point in our relationship). As I was relating the next exciting instalment of a staff member’s family drama (honestly, it puts Neighbours to shame), I am sure they had plenty to keep them amused. I only wish they had the decency to pretend they were NOT listening…to listen is understandable, but to gawk is gauche.

Overall? The service is excellent and prompt, even when the restaurant is busy. The food is mostly excellent, apart from my quibbles, and I will be trying the cauliflower tagliatelle next time I am in there. I just wish they still had their sharing menu – I miss it. Oh, and the marron? They didn’t charge us for the upgrade, wasn’t that nice of them? The Nosies would have been MOST put out if they’d known.

Cost $244 (incl use of Entertainment Card).

The Inglewood hotel

My apologies for yet another hotel review…I do actually eat at restaurants, honest. Just lately however, due to no fault of my own, my dining experiences have mostly been confined to Perth hostelry. I have a couple of other reviews up my sleeve, but metaphors desert me in trying to adequately describe them currently. They will have to wait until, sated with a large glass of Peregrine Pinot Noir I can convey my impressions without chewing my lip or pulling out my hair.

Hence…

As you know, we were kindly allowed a long weekend for Anzac Day, thank you creepy Colin Barnett (is it just me, or does anyone else think he bears a striking resemblance to a dead fish ie. slimy and wet?). After a weekend, in the house, hard at work hunched over my laptop, Monday was the one day Mr Kvetch and I got to relax and enjoy ourselves. So we decided on lunch, and after tossing around many a name, decided to stick close-ish to home and casual and went to the Inglewood. Now, I have been to the Inglewood a few times before, and always thought that it was overpriced for the quality of what you get. That said, they have a nice outdoor area, and the temperature and shade out there was PERFECT. It couldn’t have been better if I had rung ahead to define my specifications.

We arrived about 12:30, and it was reasonably quiet - we got served a drink at the bar with no waiting, and grabbed a table outside. We decided to order the Share plate ($29) and the Spicy chicken skewers with Nasi Goreng and fried egg, coconut and peanut sauce ($12), with a view to ordering more if we were still hungry. The bar was getting pretty busy at this point, but we were happy enough sitting outside and having a chat. Eventually two wait-staff walked by with what was definitely our meal, but they were looking for Table 130, and ours was 129. They went past us, and Mr K and I are pretty sure they wandered around the entire hotel, possibly stopping for a brief kip, before they checked the table numbers and presented us with our food. It was cold, not quite Antarctic in nature, but getting there pretty quickly. It had been on such an epic adventure before eventually reaching us, I am surprised it wasn't wearing Harrison Ford's hat.

Being the fair minded and accurate individual that I am, I am going to review the food as though it were presented to me as I assume it was intended, ie. Hot. The tasting plate had plenty of Turkish bread on it for the size of it, which is unusual in these carbohydrate-phobic (or just making up margin on bread) times. There were plenty of olives and a decent supply of feta. The feta was a bit tasteless, but then it generally is when you just open a packet and scrape it into a ramekin. The chili squid was surprisingly flavourful and tender, especially considering it was cold. I was expecting it to be like chewing a slimy elastic band. The strangest thing on the plate was the ramekin of rust coloured fluid, with a squiggle of black fluid at the bottom. You might think this was olive oil and balsamic, and that is what I thought too…at first. The rust colour I attributed to perhaps chili infusing, but I was wrong. Upon first taste, and I cannot believe I am writing this, I honestly thought they must have been recycling the deep fryer oil. I neither exaggerate nor prevaricate, that is EXACTLY what it tasted like. Mr K, when asked his impression, unprompted, gave the same response. In pursuit of truth, justice, and decent olive oil for all, I persisted in my examination, and I think, just maybe they might have infused the oil with black tea. That would account for both the colour, and the bitterness. Someone please ask them not to bother next time. My god but it was awful.

We interrupt this tasting plate description to comment on the chicken. There were ‘Moroccan’ chicken skewers on the tasting plate. There were also chicken skewers with peanut sauce on the Indonesian thingo. At the time of ordering, we wondered whether they could possibly be the same thing, but they were defined separately as Moroccan and Indonesian, and my slapdash research indicates that the two are separated by the Indian Ocean and the width of nearly the entire African continent. We could be forgiven for thinking they would be different. When the plates arrived, we noticed they looked suspiciously similar in colour and visible spice. Blind taste-tests did in fact confirm these were exactly same item, branded differently. As a side note, they were a good size, and the chicken was both nicely cooked and tender. The Indonesian dish had also a fried egg, nicely runny yoke (too bad it had frosted over subsequently), and a small portion of Nasi Goreng which was quite tasty, although slightly too many peas per capita of rice.

A bottle of Shaw & Smith Sav Blanc ($44) completed our meal, it could have been that, or the bespoke weather, but I didn’t feel as irate as I might have about the oil recycling or the chicken pulling a double shift.

The Brisbane Hotel

I would just like to start today’s pronouncement on dining with a Public Service Announcement: I hate the Brisbane Hotel. Contrary to the reasons I normally hate restaurants, this one actually does not historically have anything to do with the food (decent, although the sausage rolls have been on the menu since the opening day), the fit-out (reasonably funky although dating pretty quickly) or the music (fairly cool in summer, unremarkable in winter). It’s the people, frankly. I detest walking into a room (see my opening post) and having the entire heaving mass of people stop, stare, evaluate you as lacking wank value, and return to their espresso martini (no offence meant to espresso martinis – I really like them).

DESPITE all of the above, I had occasion to go there the other night for dinner. I didn’t have much of a choice, someone else was paying…so I decided to be open minded, and I was prepared to forgive the Brisbane its vacuous, lollipop-esque patrons. There was hardly anyone there, so the patrons couldn’t be faulted this time. But it was boring frankly, and it wasn’t the company I was with. The food was ok, if not inspired. Clearly the GFC is having an effect on the chef’s budget - pork is cheap and it had insinuated its way through the menu like a mutating plague. Bacon, pork belly, pork fillet, more bacon – it had more exposure than Eddie McGuire did in the great Channel 9 epidemic of 2007. I hate pork, and though I defend every individual’s right to eat what they like (within reason – if you can adopt it through the WWF, perhaps we should re-think our dining patterns, no?), it shouldn’t come at the expense of me being able to find something appetising and suitable on the menu. As well as the swine issue, I couldn’t find anything on the wine list I wanted to drink, and no, I was not being difficult. It was…boring, blasé, innocuous, vanilla (no offence meant to vanilla either)…

You know what? I liked it better when I hated it because of what it was – at least then it had personality, even if you wouldn’t have introduced it to your friends.

/end Kvetch

The Subiaco Hotel....

A girlfriend and I recently met up for a mid week brekkie at the Subiaco Hotel. I was early (or rather, less late), and wandered into the restaurant. It wasn’t at all busy (a nice change) and they told me I could, "sit anywhere", so I grabbed a magazine and took a seat. It didn’t take them too long to take my coffee order, and it was followed by my coffee reasonably quickly. When D showed up (poor girl, parking in Subi can truly be traumatic), it took us awhile to get the waitperson’s attention - they were playing, "I don’t see you smiling meaningfully at me" (A game for 2 or more players), but we did manage to get in another coffee order. We sat and chatted for awhile, and made the fatal error of saying, "Can you please give us a moment" when they sauntered around to take an order. Turning our attention promptly to the menu, and making a choice quickly (it's limited at breakfast time), we then waited…and waited…

….

After the remains of our coffees eventually fossilised and were ready to be dug up and examined by beardy archaeologist types, I ripped off all my clothes and ran screaming naked after the nearest Wait-thing…(ok, it wasn’t that bad, but it was getting close), and we managed to get an order in. I had not had French Toast in what seemed like aeons, so I ordered that ($15) and D had Scrambled Eggs with spinach and feta ($15). It arrived reasonably promptly. And so it bloody should. Aforementioned French Toast was ONE piece of brioche with berries and little bit of yogurt. The eggs came with ONE triangle of Turkish bread toast. Both were tasty, but if we hadn’t been eating slowly while chatting, we would have needed a second breakfast. I would hate to see a male try to survive more than an hour on that type of sustenance. We couldn’t attract the Wait-thing’s attention to get any more coffee, so we left.

Breakfast for 2, $40. Irritation level 3.5/5 (Don’t bother on a weekend, you’re likely to go postal)
/end Kvetch

Where do you think the best breakfast in Perth can be found? I plan to do some serious investigation of my own...

And for mains...

So, post-Core Luxury Retreat, we went for lunch at the Mundaring Weir Hotel. Neither of us had been there before, and we are rarely in the area,so we thought we'd check it out.

The first trap for young players is trying to find the cafe where you need to order your food. There are flights of stairs, vast unused dining rooms and chairs, more stairs,no signage and you feel like you are on a journey to the centre of the earth.

I like a period piece as much as the next Jane Austen fan, but this was no setting for Mr Darcy. The place feels really cluttered, and quite unclean. We eventually found the cafe/coffee shop and ordered wine and meals. They did not provide a bucket for the bottle of wine which was already warmish, and when we finally found a place to sit, we discovered one of the glasses was dirty.

Wanting to leave the building behind, we headed outside, and started the process of trying to find a table. Think of it a bit like an orienteering course, roped off sections everywhere, grass littered with the product of dozens of duck bottoms, bases for umbrellas haphazardly strewn about the place. They give you a vibrating buzzer thingo to let you know when your food is ready, and you have to re-navigate it all to get back to the kitchen.

Mr K had the Fisherman's Feast, which I had been considering myself (sunny Sunday, bottle of wine, how could you not contemplate fish and chips?), but I was grateful I didn't. At $23.50 for a pub meal, you would expect some fresh fish of some description, and the prawns/scallops/other seafood to be presentable. The prawns clearly came out of a box, but the scallop (yes,1) was intriguing. Obviously breaded, but with the most amazing shape. This was a diamond cut scallop, an absolutely perfect cross section of a cylinder. Unless nature has started producing scallops to some sort of QA specification I am not familiar with, I think we can assume it was artificial and processed. The crab stick was well, a crab stick. I can (almost) understand a suburban fish and chip shop selling this type of atrocity, after all, if you don't want it, you don't have to order it. But for a pub to include it comes under the heading of self-harm. To cap it all off the chips were limp and less than plentiful.

I, however, changed my mind at the last minute and ordered a Chicken Bruschetta wood fired pizza ($16.50). This turned out to be a wise choice, the sauce was tasty, the chicken appeared fresh, and the crust was appropriately crispy.

Despite all of above, the sun was shining, I had just had a massage, I wasn't at work (always a key ingredient to success), and I was quite prepared to be magnanimous, especially as my pizza exceeded my expectations. But I couldn't relax. It was akin to attempting to nap in the middle of the David Jones After-Xmas sales in Sydney or Melbourne. It isn't going to happen, and if it does, you should probably see your Dr.

The setting here is quite good, they have a niche with the location and the heritage value of the building, it could and SHOULD be so much better! They don't need to serve wanky over-priced meals, but good pub grub, served in clean vessels, would be a great start. And clean the place up - it’s a broken leg (or worse) waiting to happen.

What do you think? Have you been here? Was it a bad day, or this situation normal?

To start...

To properly inaugurate writing my experiences, rather than simply thinking up cutting remarks I could have made at the time, Ms Kvetch presents, "Dietary Disgruntlement and Other Tales: A Surprisingly Nice Weekend". Please note that all wining, dining, staying, and cheese-related experiences are un-sponsored by the providers of said experiences. This is a fact they will be grateful for in general...(but not today - this one is 'Surprisingly Nice').

We spent a recent Saturday night at Core Luxury Retreat in Mundaring. It was a happy accident, I found it on Mundaring Tourism website (I googled ‘accom + perth hills’, otherwise I wouldn’t have know there WAS a Mundaring Tourism website), and we booked and paid on a Thursday (no EFTPOS or credit card facilities, you have to pay by direct debit, which is a wee bit detracting for spontaneity factor). We just went off the website photos, which has been a source of some discomfiture in the past (how do they manage to make a kennel 2x3m look like a 5 star bedroom, even temporarily?), but for a pleasant change, we were not disappointed. We stayed in a ‘modern contemporary’ room in the Lodge proper, the cabins being booked out for the weekend. It was selectively but adequately furnished, LCD TV, robes and slippers, complimentary Verissima aromatherapy pack (awesome lip balm!), chocolates, and a modern shower ensuite. The only real drawback was the lack of bathroom door, which although providing a light and spacious feel to the room, also provided excellent wee acoustics. Personally I feel that there are some things about Mr Kvetch it is appropriate for me NOT to be familiar with, and that is one of them. Overfamiliarity is the death of romance. Any more than a night, and I may have needed to take a turn around the garden until it was deemed safe to return...

The Lodge and gardens are beautifully done, fantastic use of stone, wood, and the local surrounds, completely built by hosts Yvonne and Greg. All of the water is sourced from rainwater tanks, the energy used is solar, and all waste is recycled, so no need feel guilty about the level of your self-indulgence (you may not feel guilty about self-indulgence, for me, its genetic - I just 'feel the fear and do it anyway'). There is a lit infinity pool and deck looking out to the State forest, which is where we chose to have our complimentary welcome platter and bottle of sparkling, and ended up being where we spent our entire evening. Note to Self for next time though: do not leave bottle of tropical strength mozzie repellent at home. The mozzies were remarkably commando-like little bastards – I didn’t feel a thing at the time, but was on anti-histamines for a couple of days afterwards. How they managed to get through the crocodile-esque skin on the bottom of my feet is a mystery...Yvonne did warn us that they were likely to strike at dusk, and disappear upon full darkness, but I don’t think they could have wreaked that much havoc in the short space of a hills sundown.

Yvonne or Greg will drive you to and from the Loose Box if that is where you’d like to have dinner, but not being in the mood for a possibly hit-and-miss degustation ($150pp, not including vino) I opted to bring some platter-y type ingredients of my own. I went to Fig Jam in Mt Hawthorn, and picked up some Buche d’Affinois (the Queen, or King of cheeses, I am not sure which, but it is definitely one of them. The Emperor of cheeses maybe?), Fourme D’Ambert (heavenly) and some Aristos seeded mustard hot smoked salmon (was a bit dubious about this, but it turned out to be quite pleasant, far more appetising than the man himself). A bottle of Oyster Bay Chardonnay (boring but nice enough) and we were ready to go. A note about this; in many of the places we have stayed, the staff/proprietors tend to be a little precious about the consumption of one’s own vino. My answer is that if they provided something worth drinking, one wouldn’t need to bring one’s own vino...causality, lazy wine selection. Yvonne had no such issue, due to the nature of her accommodation, and was quite happy to offer the use of her fridges for our benefit.

When it got a little chillier we headed into the Cabana beside the pool, it’s well fitted with fridge, mini-kitchen, table and chairs, CD player and stacks of CDs, and is where breakfast is served in the morning.

Breakfast is continental – organic yogurt, cereals, approximately 4 million types of tea and coffee, fresh bread, muffins, danishes etc. The only real drawback is that it is communal, and my previous experience with this was again confirmed. You walk into the breakfast room/lounge etc, and everyone stops what they are doing, stares at you, ducks their head and continues on. The silence is so deafening that the clatter of your spoon in your coffee cup resembles a helicopter taking off, and you are not even (always) hungover. If you are going to have a conversation with your partner, its conducted in funeral toned whispers, and someone has always snaffled the New Homes section of the newspaper before you get there. Core was no different in this respect, except for the appalling couple who left before us, and left all of their plates, cutlery, serviettes etc on the table. As everyone who had breakfasted previously had tidied their breakfast detritus away next to the sink, I fail to understand why they could not follow this basic example of consideration for others, however He was the type to wear a jumper casually knotted over his shoulders and a pair of deck shoes even when not on a boat, so that explains a fair bit. So does the reading of the Fin Review on a Sunday morning (I feel sure he wasn’t enjoying it though, it was just part of his look. How he must suffer for his artifice!). Karma evened things up when we discovered an entire untouched bain marie of fresh croissants.

I had booked myself a massage, per options on the website – meditation classes and life coaching/discussions (?) are also offered, but I drink far too much coffee to meditate effectively, and life coaching – well, its very easy to tell people what's wrong with them when it isn’t you, no? I could make a fortune...however back to the subject at hand. Lisa, who does the massages, was very professional. She does an Indian style massage, which was both relaxing and invigorating. These occur down in the gym, which was thankfully free of anyone else, and the only sounds you hear are country type ones...birds, wind, the alpacas in the pasture next door. If I didn’t live 40 odd minutes away, I would certainly be looking to see Lisa more often. Getting a good relaxing massage in Perth is difficult I find. I see a fantastic no-nonsense crew for my dodgy back, shoulders, neck, left ear etc, but sometimes you don’t want to be fixed, you just want to lay there, oozing gently. Beauty salons, which tend to offer these things, are staffed by 18 and 19 year olds who often wouldn’t know professionalism if it smacked them across the back of their pointy little heads, and I am sure they discuss the state of your cellulitey legs on their cigarette breaks. Day Spas, of which I am a huge fan, quite often do better, but I had a rotten experience with one recently, unprofessional fuckers, so they are off my list too. But I digress, if you do spend a weekend at Core, consider Lisa, she may have winced at my cellulite, but I didn’t notice it...


All up? Core Luxury Retreat was a fabulous place for a night away, and more if you can manage it. We left feeling like we’d had a proper change of scenery, and we will be definitely be going back, hopefully soon...I need more lip balm...