Is your mouth watering? Can you taste it? This is the maguro steak nigirizushi at Shira Nui. Put simply, it absolutely rocks.

Seared on the grill and left beautifully rare, the quick flash of the heat made the long thin tuna steak crack and fissure into barely held together flakes of reddish brown flesh. Sprinkled with a salts and spices, it sat sliced on an oblong mound of warm seasoned rice. A strip of thin nori hugged the two together, and a fresh garnish of sliced green onion added colour and bite. OMfG.

Shira Nui is a place that has long held the reputation for providing some of the best (if not THE best) sushi in Melbourne. EG had been a number of times, but I was a Shira Nui virgin. Since we met he had regaled me (incessantly) with tales of exquisite sushi and of entrusting oneself to the mastery of chef Hiro Nishikura’s omakase. And now it was my turn to find out what all the fuss was about.

The restaurant is located in the very suburban Glen Waverley, which I think is fast becoming a hotbed of a culinary interest. The exterior is rather non-descript, as is the interior. But I feel comfortable - the angalise coloured walls, the long blondwood sushi counter, Japanese glass ball fishing floats and ceramic fish hanging from the walls, a hunger-inducing cabinet full of chunks of raw fish, rustic Japanese ceramic ware, bottles of sake lined up in a row, and the friendly welcome of “irasshaimase” when we walk in.

Chef Hiro-san is the man responsible for Shira Nui. Now I cringe as I am about to write this, and heck, it’s probably been written a hundred times before. But there is a certain warrior quality about Hiro-san - whether it be in the samurai-like swish of his forearm long sushi knife, the single minded focus on the task at hand, the gruffness when he barks “soy” or “no soy” at you, or the way he eyes you up, checking to see whether you are worthy and appreciative of his sushi making skills. I pity the fool who dips the non-soy sushi into soy. They are liable to have their hand chopped clean off!

But despite the gruffness, there is a very likeable cheekiness to him as well. He is quick to laughter and quip, but only when it appears you have achieved that venerable stage of respect between appreciative sushi eater and masterful sushi chef. It is a balance and a relationship. That is what I really love about eating at a sushi counter (or a tempura counter for that matter) - the direct relationship with the person who creates your food. At the end of the day, it is not just about the food. It is about the food AND the experience.

On a side note, I often get asked by readers whether the chef minds when I take a photograph. Does this explain it?!?

Seriously (or not seriously for that matter), we were actually having a good ol’ chuckle with Hiro-san and his very able sidekick (pictured above, name unknown). It started with the ol’ V sign popularised as the sign to make when posing for photos. This then went on to paparazzi like protestations, which was when I snapped this photo. Apparently many people take photos in his restaurant - and Hiro-san seemed quite perplexed as to why people would want to do such a thing. I shrugged my shoulders and told him because his food was too beautiful not too. That got a smile.

Anyway, the tuna mentioned above wasn’t the first sushi we had during the omakase (it was the sixth). So to start from the beginning…

Our first pair of nigirizushi was shiromi. The slices of delicate white fish were so translucent you could see the daub of bright green wasabi beneath. It was seasoned simply with freshly squeezed lemon juice and salt, and draped wide around the rice. Obviously, this was a “no soy” sushi - the subtly of the fish would have been destroyed otherwise. And lesson number two, this sushi should always be eaten in one mouthful. Otherwise you will not get a perfectly seasoned “bite”, which is how Hiro-san designs his sushi.

This is what good sushi is all about; magnificently fresh produce, superb slicing technique which allows one to enjoy the texture of the fish, hand pressed rice and perfect seasoning. True respect for the ingredient and an absolute pleasure to devour.

To accompany our sushi we shared a magnificent bottle of sake that was both dry and sweet. Damn if I could remember the name, but it was served hot to counteract the very chilly weather outside.

The pan salmon with shichimi togarashi, a Japanese 7-spice blend that is both peppery and citrusy, hit me smack bang in the cortex. I could have melted off my chair it was THAT good. It had the taste of the flame on it, being somewhat caramelised in places, and was insanely balanced in spice and sweetness, yet overwhelmingly salmony. I can hardly describe what an absolute joy it was to eat.

Saba, or Mackerel with white seaweed was so wonderful to look at, I didn’t want to eat it. I kept snapping away with my camera, listening as EG moaned with delight beside me. The mackerel itself was firm and unctuously oily, sprinkled with ground sesame seeds, pepper and sliced spring onion. But instead of nori, a translucent sheet of sweet white seaweed wrapped around the fish and rice. The seaweed is a type of rare and expensive kombu which is sliced thinly and steeped in a sugar syrup/mirin reduction. Wow - what a perfect accompaniment to the oily mackerel.

Uh huh…I know this one will do it for you as well. Yakiniku or grilled wagyu beef was like a kiss from B
BQ heaven. I’m sure the beef, being very thinly sliced, only got the quickest of flashes on the grill. But the taste of smoke, the beefiness, the sweetness from a plum/onion type jam on top. Yeah baby.

Akagi or Ark Shell was a very interesting sushi. It didn’t have a strong flavour, tasting mainly of the sea in a very pure way. Visually, the bright red-orange flesh was very impressive. But what got me was the texture. It felt “snappy” in the mouth, like you were biting down on a really strong jelly. It was denser than calamari, but probably of a similar vein.

Ama Ebi or sweet red shrimp freaked me out just a little, as I had never seen these type of shrimp before. Their tails seemed completely alien to me. But damn, they tasted bloody good! It was sliced in half and splayed lengthways across the rice and layered with salty fish roe. I absolutely adore biting down on the little sacs of salty brine, feeling them explode in your mouth.

Hamachi zuke, which I will confess to not knowing whether it was king fish or yellowtail, was magnificent. Even though EG had been to Shira Nui a number of times, this was a new one for him. The fish had been criss-crossed ever so slightly on the face, and then given the blow torch treatment. The fish was cooked on the surface, but still raw underneath and on the tail. Another “no soy” moment to truly marvel in the texture and delicacy of this beautiful sublime piece of fish.

The kaki sushi was done gunkan or battleship style. The rice is wrapped cylindrically upright with a wide sheet of nori, making for a cup to hold fillings. In this case the oyster, which had been cooked under the grill, was placed, with juices into the cup. A squirt of Japanese mayonnaise and a bit of blowtorch action, and voila, an incredibly creamy, delicious, briny sushi that will just about knock you over with its richness. In fact, I think only one of these would be sufficient. Two is almost too much.

And it was at this point that Hiro-san raised an eyebrow and queried, “More?”. Oooh…okay, twist my arm… “Bring it on”.

Round two in our battleship sushi was hotate, or scallop. The scallops had been glazed with a sticky red miso-sesame paste, which tasted earthy yet salty at the same time. I have a particular soft spot for these bivalve molluscs, and Hiro-san didn’t disappoint.

“More?”

EG and I look at one another. We doth protest, although obviously not enough.

“I have a special one for you. Very light. Spicy.”

“Ohh.” We exchange a look and grin. “Ok. One more.”

Asparagus with spicy cod roe (mentaiko) was the perfect way to end our sushi journey. The asparagus was cooked to a perfect crispness, and topped with cod roe that had been pickled with garlic and cayenne. Oh yeah…there was a lil’ heat here, which was rather pleasant against the sweetness of the rice.

We couldn’t say no to dessert (we have an extra stomach for times like these). EG went the cappuccino mousse, which really was a well-executed pannacotta. It sat in a pool of pouring cream, and a dice of fruits. It tasted very mild in the coffee department - perhaps more a latte than a caffe.

I couldn’t go past the black sesame creme brulee. Served in a small espresso cup, the black sesame custard was only accessible by cracking through the burnt toffee topping. Oh yeah…this was fantastic. It too was served with a fruit salad and ice cream dice. It was a little on the small side, but seriously, I couldn’t have done any bigger after such a feast.

I really like Shira Nui - I love the passion of Hiro-san, the slightly daggy interior, the hospitable nature of the staff, the kick-arse sushi. And apparently, so does everyone else. There wasn’t a spare seat in the house that night.

I can’t wait to go back.

We had real trouble writing this entry for Vue de monde. How does one write about an experience that could possibly be rated the best restaurant dining experience we’ve ever had? The answer is, with great difficulty. We wanted the review to perfectly convey the orgiastic night of feasting we experienced at Vue’s Chefs’ Table. We wanted the words and pictures to describe precisely the hedonistic pleasure that Shannon Bennett wrought on our grateful palates. However, this meant that we continually put off completing it, attempting to make sure the flavour was perfect, just like the flavours of the food we indulged in. The entry was in danger of never being published and read. Therefore, we just decided to get it out there, so here it is! Nothing is perfect, and we took solace in the fact that even Vue is fallible (more on this later), although such fallibilities did not detract one bit from our experience.

Vue de monde has enough wow factor to impress even the most discerning of diners. It is located in the historic and grand Normandy Chambers; the entrance is opulent and reminiscent of a 5-star hotel, the elegant table settings and ambience befitting the Age’s reigning Restaurant of the Year, and the marble pass is magnificent. However, Vue de monde’s beauty lies in the details. Fabulous Laguoile cutlery sitting on nifty Tom Samek designed ceramic rests (see picture above), the Chef’s Table made from timber that was formerly seating at the now demolished Ponsford stand at the MCG, gorgeous bathrooms with L’Occitane handwash and complimentary Vetiver cologne. These small details completed the experience for us.

To make it even more special, we decided to give ourselves wholly to the experience; Gastronomes menu at $250 a pop, which is the top level menu incorporating several premium ingredients, matched wine degustation at approx $120 per person, and dining at the Chef’s table, a special little alcove to the side of the kitchen seating only six people. All of this contributed towards an unadulterated and unobstructed experience of the restaurant and kitchen - the tastes, the sights, the smells, the sounds and the heat (and yes, it did get hot in there!). One also gets to interact directly with the Chefs, which I think gives one an even greater appreciation of the artistry, skill and passion that goes into each and every dish. For the gourmand, this is like being at the altar of a church.

The man responsible for all that is VDM is Shannon Bennett, the wild haired culinary-wunderkind pictured above. You can sense he is absolutely passionate and driven, probably to the point of being obsessed, by food and his restaurant. But he was absolutely lovely, even somewhat modest, when we arrived, welcoming us with a genuine smile and the hope that we enjoy our experience (and yes, thank-you very much, we certainly did!). From our secluded and exclusive vantage point, we watched as he impressively orchestrated the management of the kitchen. He was the calm in the storm - directing, organising, advising, overseeing, and even jumping in and cooking where required.

Further to his excellence in the kitchen (which you will see the product of shortly) was the excellence in service. This is a fine dining establishment, so whilst some may think it a little pretentious or pompous, I just love it. The formality, the tradition and the etiquette is something rare indeed in this town - so I applaud Shannon for upholding the virtue. If you want a casual dining experience with disgustingly chirpy staff, go to TGIF’s. That being said, I found the front of house and the Sommelier to be absolutely charming. They were professional and refined, yet easily engaged in some wickedly intelligent banter.

Now to the food…

To whet the appetite a choice of breads was offered. Most of us couldn’t resist the gruyere raisin, a thick baton of sweet crusty brioche-like bread studded with plump raisins with a whiff of nutty gruyere.

The amuse bouche arrived amidst oohs and aahs and “Oh no’s”. It was escargot.

We had some gastropod mollusc virgins on the table, though they needn’t have worried as the snail meat had been extracted earlier (…and from an uglier specimen no doubt), blitzed up with parmesan, breadcrumbs and seasoning, stuffed back into the shell with a parmesan parsley crust and grilled. A bright green pea and aloe vera jus puddled languidly beneath. They were extraordinarily flavoursome and not at all like the slippery little suckers we had presumed them to be. They provided the proper tastebud awakening for the coming degustation.

Our first course was SAUMON AUX EPICES, a sweet smoky chewy salmon jerky that dipped seductively into a pool of salted fish emulsion. On top of that balanced a mother-of-pearl spoon heaped with Sterling caviar, a farmed sturgeon caviar which is considered more humane than regular harvested caviar. A little sprinkle of spice (memory doesn’t serve) sat to the left of what the maitre’d referred to as the “belly button” of the plate. Seriously, this was gooood. The individual elements - the salmon, the emulsion and the caviar - were divine. But together, they just sang. We all tackled it differently. Some chose to create perfect mouthfuls by layering the three tastes together, using shards of salmon to scoop up the emulsion and dip into the caviar. Others choose to eat the elements separately, leaving the caviar right to the very end to consume along with a sip of Pol Roger. It was absolutely wonderful either way.

Second course was SALADE DE PIGEON - a tender crescent of rare poached pigeon breast drizzled with beetroot foam and dark brown chocolate oil. Long fettuccini-like strips of apple and parsnip had been dressed in a tart remoulade of mustard, capers, gherkins, anchovies and herbs, and this stood tall and cylindrical topped by a sunny-side-up quail egg. Under the egg was a hidden surprise - a small farce of gamey pigeon meat.

To accompany was a 2005 Domaine Mas des Bressades, Roussane Costieres de Nimes Rhone Valley, France, a rounded and fruity blend of Grenache and Syrah.

The five minute BOUILLABAISSE was the show-stopper of the night. If food were theatre, then this was it.

The waiter arrived at our table with a very bizarre looking contraption, describing it as a vintage vacuum coffee brewer. Now of course he wasn’t going to brew coffee (we were only two courses in), but he was going to infuse some stock with bouillabaissey goodness. The idea was to heat the liquid stock in the lower chamber until expansion forced the contents through the tube and into the upper chamber. Once the lower chamber was empty and sufficient time had elapsed for the stock to infuse with the bouillabaisse bits (celery leaves, shallots, carrot, other herbage, fishy and shellfishy bits), the heat was removed and the resulting vacuum would draw the infused brew back through a strainer and into the lower chamber. But that was not all…

The other component of the dish was a tartare of crayfish draped with a sheet of buffalo milk skin (in other words, mozzarella). A delicate selection of aromatic herbs added a necessary visual contrast. Then…

The now decanted bouillabaisse was poured into the bowl, submerging the pillow of crayfish and buffalo milk skin in a delicate flavoursome stock. The milk skin instantly melted over the tartare, becoming a silky covering for the tender cray meat. We were not only delighted by the theatre of the preparation, but with the fragrant delicacy of the dish.

But this is where the fallibility, mentioned in the first part of this review, comes in. Unfortunately a member of our party found a small piece of plastic in their soup. We bought it to the attention of our waiter, “Yes, there really is something in my soup.” Apologies were received.

To partner this was a 2004 Domaine Marc Bredif, Vouvray Loire Valley, France, a rather fantastic honey-ish, fragrant drop.

Here comes the dish that pretty much is the culinary equivalent of having a hard-on. I won’t mince words or hold back my thoughts - the PAIN PERDU ACCOMPAGNE DE SON FOIE GRAS was fucking awesome. I will dream of this dish for many years to come.

Firstly, squares of exquisitely eggy French toast had been individually fried in butter and skewered four deep. They were lusciously sweet and creamy on the inside, and crunchy and slightly charred on the outside. A thick pencil-long squeeze of foie gras mousse lay to the front, insanely buttery and rich, and a sprinkle of eight spice allowed one to add a few of granules of heady flavour to each mouthful. On the other side a rolled mound of Jamon iberico, the wonderful fatty melt in the mouth kind, tempted with salty goodness. And next to that a vibrant daub of sweet green apple puree. Mmmmm. In all parts the dish was sweet, salty, buttery, fatty, fruity, luscious, decadent and absolutely orgasmic.

2005 Robert Weil Kiedrich Grafenberg Spatlese Riesling Rheingau, Germany was a perfect concentrated wine match.

The MORUE DE MURRAY was an architectural stunner - Murray cod gentled cooked en sous-vide, or under vacuum at very low temperature. Mr.Bennett presented this dish himself, describing the unusual cooking technique which allowed the fish to literally poach in its own juices, maintaining a silky almost sashimi like quality. And he was not wrong - the fish was tender yet to the tooth, and entirely of its own flavour. It arrived with a ginger and spring onion sauce, and was flavoured by spring onion and crispy chicken skin. A cylindrical potato chip garnish added the sculptural element.

2005 Bindi Composition Chardonnay Macedon, Australia

A little amuse bouche to clear the palate - a shot glass of sweet tart red peach puree. Nuggets of dry ice had been dropped in the liquid to create a lovely smoke-machine effect.

This LIEVRE POCHE reminded me somewhat of Alice in Wonderland, which I guess was influenced by the hare (rabbit) and the checkerboard.

A poached loin of hare, cooked to utter perfection, stood tall and proud above a scattering of Brussels sprouts (more on this in a tick). Next to this, a checkerboard of dark minced leg meat and a light polenta opposed one another. A bay leaf foam dressed the plate, along with a reduced bread sauce.

But back to those Brussels. The particular chef who presented the dish confessed that one of his daily tasks was to ever so carefully peel two hundred baby brassicas and pipe them full of chicken mousse. The Brussels were then reformed to their original state and steamed to doneness. They were absolutely charming and delicious, and I just want to let that particular chef know, not done in vain.

2002 Chateau de Chambert La Causse Malbec Cahors, France

The FONDUE DE BOEUF WAGYU was a saucy little dish - a deconstruction (I guess) of the ultimate steak with sides. The waiter deposited a wooden board sporting an oh so cute bronze pot filled with a heady dark beef consommé topped with a beer air. The next waiter appeared with a plate and a set of tongs, and deftly deposited thin slices of rare grade 12 wagyu, which instantly sank unde
r the foam to cook in the ambient heat. We delved in with our spoons to rescue the slices from overcooking, and were surprised to bring up puy lentils that added further meat to our…er…meat. Then to the spectacular sides - from the top a beignet of bone marrow (OMfG), buttery pomme (potato) mille feuille, creamy spinach mousse and “onion” shallot rings in a roasted half shallot.

2004 Domaine Pierre Amadieu La Paillousse, Grenache Blend, Châteauneuf du Pape Burgundy, France

Our FROMAGE course was a matchbox-sized block of Comte, a cheese made in the Franche-Comte region in France from unpasturised cow’s milk. The cheese is similar in style to a Gruyere - hardish, slightly sweet and nutty. It was served with slices of fresh fig, baby cress and walnut crumbs. The slight bitterness of the walnuts worked really well with the nutty cheese and the sweetness of the fruit. A lovely combination.

2005 Vue de monde by T’Gallant Pinot Gris Mornington Peninsula, VIC

A sucette (lollipop) of frozen kiwifruit dipped in a gorgeous mint jelly was a real mouth freshener.

I’ve had some rather disappointing desserts of late, but the “CHEESECAKE” AUX FRUITS DE LA PASSION just knocked my socks off. Team Pastry presented the dish looking a little different to what you see above. The “cheesecake” was held captive in a tall cylindrical glass tube - the creamy bit at the bottom, a layer of fresh passionfruit pulp on top, and the crunchy biscuit on top of that. With a grin and an inaudible “voila”, Team Pastry lifted the glass tubing off and it elegantly splodged into the lovely little cloud of sweet passionfruit cream with the frangipan sand you see above. To the side a half shell of passionfruit filled with it’s namesake in souffle form was both kitschy and yum. An awesomely good dessert.

2001 Chateau La Tour Blanche Premier Cru Classe, Sauternes, France

Now this was a tres sophisticated way of ending a meal - the CIGARE AU CHOCOLAT was, as the name implied, a chocolate cigar. The Valrohona chocolate roll was filled with smoked chocolate and rolled in puff pastry “cigar” leaves. A touch of gold leaf was the “cigar” label.

It arrived at the table literally smoking, with edible ash and charcoal made from coconut. The bitterness of the dark chocolate was an awesome match with the smoke, making the dish very masculine and very adult indeed. It paired perfectly with a Henriques & Henriques 10 year old Malmsey Madeira from Portugal. I can still taste the richness of both.

This is Carlos from South America, a member of Team Pastry at VDM. He was responsible for telling us about the impressive plate of petits fours. The lilt of his latino inflected accent was almost as good as the petit fours. Almost.

From the front, deep red beetroot macaroons that would impress even Pierre Herme, followed by a mini pavola with a pipette of lemon curd, then a banana ice-cream dipped in chocolate and a dark chocolate cocoa pot. I can’t remember what the last one was - by this stage both the food and the wine was making me dizzy

Unfortunately this was the end of our experience at the able hands of Mr.Bennett and his team. We had been eating and chatting and drinking for a little over four glorious hours. There is so much more that I could write, but I fear this entry is already getting too verbose. Though there was one more surprise…

We were absolutely delighted with the CHOCOLATS POUR SAVOURER A LA MAISON - chocolates to take home to enjoy. Four lovely samples of chocolate work - a mini block of dark chocolate squares, a coconut cherry truffle, a chocolate truffle and a dark mint chocolate. They were exquisitely made; snapping at the tooth with a lovely sheen on the exterior.

I just loved that I could carry over our VDM experience to the next day.

I’m not going to write too much about the Queen Victoria Market (you can read a rather good article here). This is more just a photo montage and some random thoughts, which came about after doing the Foodie Tour recently. EG and I had a great time, and even though we are local and regular shoppers at the market, we still found out some interesting things. The tours depart on Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday at 10am (for two hours), and costs $28. You’ll learn a little history, find out who sells and specialises in a particular item, sample extensively from the dairy/deli hall, get a free coffee and a free shopping bag.

The fish/meat hall is a rather interesting spot. Outside of trading hours the corridor is actually used as a boning/preparation area, and they literally chill the whole building down like a big refrigerator. You’ll notice out the front of each shop an overhead rail system, which is how they transport the carcusses from outside. The butchers then literally butcher in the aisles.

Some beautiful coral trout, vibrant and extremely fearsome looking, available for $27.50 a kilo.

The fishmongers putting on a show for us with a big-arse octopus.

Beautiful atlantic salmon fillets, which we ended up buying for dinner that night. We marinated them in a light sake/soy/mirin/ginger mix and pan seared before whacking in the oven for finishing. I made a quick reduction of sake, light soy and sugar, which I used to dress the salmon and steamed broccolini. Served with steamed rice, it was food for the mind, body and soul. Mmm. It was gooood.

Freshly shucked coffin bay oysters, still with their briney juices intact.

An assortment of crabs - some blue swimmers on the top, a couple of spanners to the right, and a big Darwin muddie to the bottom left.

The meat section is always abuzz, this gent hanging up large chunks on beef on hooks.

This is the offal and pet food section. Should one worry that they are stored together? Today I learnt what a pluck was/is. Apparently it is the lungs, heart, diaphragm, wind pipe and other pieces as removed as one item from the chest cavity of a slaughtered animal (eww). It is used for haggis and other delights, such as for the offal soup traditionally eaten at Greek Easter.

Ahh…just got to love this sign. And I must say, it is probably true!

The deli hall is where I start to get all excited. Built in 1927, I just love walking these hallowed halls, the smell of cheeses, salami, sausages, borek, olives, breads, cakes etc thick in the air, every shop an absolutely delight to the eye. Above is the pasta shop, with a wonderful and colourful display of its yummy home made wares.

This is our foodie guide Geraldine plating up some rather delectable pumpkin ravioli with a napoli and pesto sauce. Oh yeah…yum.

Dianne’s is one of my favourites for dips (which are all home made). They also have great olives.

A typical range of the bread available. There are about three bread providores, who sell on behalf of many of the well known artisan bakers in Melbourne and surrounds.

Warrnambool butter from Curds and Whey, which you can buy in your desired weight. The salted butter is absolutely divine just spread on a fresh slice of bread.

This 20 year old bell of provolone cheese has obviously been hanging around for quite some time. I don’t know if it is still edible, but if it is, I’d like to give it a crack as provolone is one of my all tim
e favourites

The fruit and veg section is huge, especially on week days when it extends into A and B sheds, which run the length of a city block. The store above had a lovely range of medditerrenean veg, such as tuscan cabbage and eggplants. You’ll also be able to find many of your Asian favourites, though I still think Springvale or Footscray does this type of veg better.

Olives are in season at the moment and looking particularly perky.

And of course, you can’t beat the tomatoes from Tomato City. The doncaster variety are especially sweet at the moment, and cheap too. This is where you’ll find some of the better basilico at the market too.

And these were the absolutel finds of the day. Fresh field mushrooms, slippery jacks, king browns. I filled up a brown paper bag to take home and saute in some of that Warrnambool butter a few images back, with plump australian garlic, cracked black pepper, maldon salt and fresh thyme. I cooked up some ciabatta toasts and drizzled them with olive oil and rubbed them with a garlic clove. Then to eat - the buttery sauteed mushrooms on crunchy toasts. Ooooohh…it was such a treat!

Now if you didn’t notice, check out the HUGE, and I mean HUGE mushroom in the backround. It was seriously four times the size of that ladies head! And it was all yours for $130, though I’m not really sure what you could do with such a mushroom. Steaks?!

One of my absolute favourite seafoods is lobster, and one of the best ways to have this delectable crustacean is the method used by the Cantonese - lobster stir fried with copious amounts of ginger, spring onion and wispy strands of thin egg noodles. Known as Long Har Meen Tai, the dish is a signature of any self-respecting Chinese restaurant that keeps live lobsters on the premises. However, just because it is the signature doesn’t mean that the restaurant gets it right every time. I have had versions that were too sweet, too salty, too soggy or too gluggy due to an over-enthusiastic use of corn flour to thicken the sauce.

One of the more consistent versions of Long Har Meen Tai is at New Royal Garden, which is the local Chinese haunt I have been going to for years. But don’t just take my word for it - every time I visit I see diners happily tucking in to this dish, or the alternative mud crab version.

The lobster arrived on a very large plate, delectable pieces of stir fried crustacean resting on a bed of wispy thin egg noodles and swimming in a sauce of ginger and spring onion. Skilfully dished by the waiters, the dish was, as usual, very good. The flesh of the lobster was sweet and tender, and we all just tucked in with our fingers - no need for ceremony here!

We also tried the mongolian lamb, a sizzling plate of meltingly tender fillet slices sauted in sweet and savoury hoisin sauce. Crisp shards of raw cucumber and cooked sliced carrot, celery and onion added the vegetable component. The dish, though far from being authentically Chinese (or Mongolian for that matter) is one that sends a hush throughout the restaurant - the spectacle of the waiter hurridly carrying the sizzling platter of hot saucy meat makes most patrons hope they don’t bump into anyone on the way from kitchen to table.

We also had a serve of water convolvulus, a type of water spinach that is also sometimes referred to as morning glory. It was stir fried with garlic and preserved beancurd, a kind of “chinese cheese” which adds both a zesty flavour and a creamy consistency.

Situated on an enviable corner in Syndal in Melbourne’s east, New Royal Garden offers consistently good Cantonese fare in warm and friendly surroundings. It also does an excellent daily yum cha. Particularly good are the seafood dishes, especially the aforementioned lobster. There is a perception that the live seafood is better value here than elsewhere, and it certainly is the case, especially when the seafood is in season.

A small car park is conveniently located next to the restaurant, offering free parking to diners. The large interior is surrounded by floor to ceiling glass but otherwise it is a little dowdy, with pink walls, some faded Chinese prints and screens, and an AM radio crackling in the background. Tableware is standard Chinese restaurant - tablecloths, lazy susan, starched napkins, chopstick, bowls, tea cups, small plates, saucers, and more. Some bowls, plates and tea cups are chipped but really, I don’t think that many of the patrons, who are predominantly large Asian family groups, are particularly mindful of quality tableware. Clearly, food is more the focus than the decor.

At the front waiting area are several fish tanks where the live seafood is kept - lobster, mud crab, snow crab, king crab, barramundi, coral trout, parrot fish, and more. There is also a small glass enclosed space where roast duck, suckling pig, roast pork and other barbequed and roast meats are prepared and sold as takeaway.

The large menu is available in English and Chinese. Prawn crackers will be brought out while you peruse the range of beef, chicken, seafood, hotpot and noodle options. If you are unsure of what to choose, the best thing is to consult one of the senior waiters or the friendly manager, who will be able to recommend dishes for you. I have found that the senior waiters are particularly helpful and they really try their best to ensure that you order foods that you would like. They will also stop you from over ordering, as can easily happen in Chinese restaurants. Other than providing recommendations, the service is friendly, warm but can become slow when the restaurant is very busy, which is often. The food is consistently good, the service is efficient and the surroundings are warm and friendly.

This photo just shoots an impulse straight into my brain that gets my tummy rumbling and my mouth salivating. This is a Latin Passions Alfajores, which is an Argentinian spiced sweet cake/biscuit filled with dulce de leche (caramel) and covered in either chocolate, or, as pictured above, in meringue. They are not available everywhere - this one found at a local take-away joint near the corner of Spring and Lonsdale.

I ate a number of these whilst travelling through South America, intrigued by the different variations/fillings/coatings which included peanuts, jam, coconut, icing sugar, manjar blanco and toffee etc. But the filling of dulce de leche does it for me each and every time. So my extensive research in this field of alfajores (lets face it, I do have a “thing” for biscuits) votes this particular version, which just happen to be made right here in my home town of Melbourne, as bloody fantastic.

This is the pizza dosai at Bismi Gold An Fork, a bastardised version of the South Indian rice crepe you may have read about in a previous post. In this case, the crepe batter is made into a dense dough which is baked in the oven with a smear of masala curry sauce, sliced veg, frozen peas, onion and lotsa cheese, served with sambar and chutney. The density of the dough makes it damn filling, and it might be just a little too much when you whack a big hunk of melted cheese on it. Two of us shared this dish. I couldn’t imagine tackling it on my own.

And I don’t know whether eating at BGAF could be termed a relaxing dining experience either. Bollywood movies are played at a particularly deafening pitch, and the decor, well let’s just say it is renovation-chic. But it is a popular place for students and other diners who err on the side of thriftiness.

Copper Chimney may not be the most atmospheric of venues, but what it does have is fabulously tasty food at damn cheap prices. The decor is functionally utilitarian - canteen style - with echo-y tiled floors, a long stainless steel bain marie, wood veneer tables and steel/ply chairs. Whilst it all sounds rather cold and serviceable, there is something inviting about the place; the smell of whole spices being tempered in hot oil and of curries simmering, and noodles and rices frying. Copper Chimney specialises in Indo-Asian food; that is, a mix of Chinese, Indian, Malaysian, Singaporean and Indonesian - Halal endorsed. It may seem an unusual mix for some, but it is not so unusual in many Asian countries where these cuisines tend to mesh in all manner of ways.

I have been for lunch a number of times, partaking in the $6.90 deal of two dishes (meat or veg) and rice. You get to choose from the extensive bain marie range, though this has a definite bias towards Indian cuisine (which I am certainly not complaining about!). But we decided to sample from the a la carte menu on a cold Sunday night, where the options expand to other cuisines.

Photographed above is a Hyderabadi chicken biryani ($6.90), which is an Indian form of the spicy Middle-Eastern / South Asian rice dish. It was served in cute copper pot with a side of cooling carrot raita. There was just a little bite of heat, but nothing too in your face. And the spice was just right.

EG went the chicken masala dosai, which is a huge South Indian rice pancake served with sambar and chutney. Dosai is usually made from fermented rice and/or lentil batter and is cooked with ghee, so it has a slight sourness about it (in a good way that is!). The chicken masala filling was tandoori style, with fried potato and onion. I have seen dosai at other restaurants that remain quite rigidly cylindrical. This version though came out a lil’ flat, though it was still relatively crunchy. I’m not sure whether the rigidity of the dosai is indicative of its quality. Anyone?

We all shared in the mee goreng, a mamak version of the Malaysian favourite. The hokkien noodles were dry-fried with spices, chicken, egg, tofu and vegetables. It wasn’t too oily either, which is the approach Copper Chimney appears to take with most of its dishes.

Lastly (well almost) was the Murtahaba Kambing - roti stuffed with minced lamb, onion, tomato, chilli, fresh egg and spices. It is fried on a hot plate and served as is, though we asked for an extra bowl of curry sauce on the side. The murtahaba was bloody fantastic, though having to wait close to forty minutes for it meant it bloody well should be. The roti was goood - flaky and buttery, with a generous filling.

Teh Tarik is a Malaysian tea made with condensed milk. But what sets it apart from regular tea is the preparation - the tea is poured from a container held high to container held low (and repeated ad infinitum) until it forms a frothy top, somewhat like a cappuccino. It is deliciously sweet and utterly drinkable.

It may not be somewhere you’d want to take a first date, but I’d happily eat here for a cheap and cheerful any day.

The food at the Melbourne Italian Festival at Federation Square last weekend was a lil’ unimpressive. There were only a handful stalls - one selling gnocchi napoli for $10 a plate (expensive?!). Another stall sold rolls with salami and cheese or porchetta, and one was roasting fresh chestnuts.

I was perplexed. Where were all the food stalls? Were the places who attended previous festivals in Lygon Street boycotting for the change in venue?

The one other food stall that made an appearance was ChoriOz. Being more Argentinian than Italian, ChoriOz are a regular at farmers markets and festivals. The meat comes from their own stud called Monte Allegro in Nar Nar Goon.

I was impressed with their attempt to do an Italian style beef sausage, shaped in a spiral (or “snail” as they called it) and served with BBQ’d leeks and parsley chimichurri on a sour dough roll. It was damn tasty.

But where were all the big fat juicy pork continental salsiccia? And the cannoli?

Here’s another doughnut shop to add to the ever expanding (in more ways than one) doughtnut landscape in Melbourne.

Walker’s Doughnuts have been around for a lil’ while now, sharing corner space with the wonderfully named Lord of the Fries. The kitschy nostalgic U.S. themed signage is pretty much indicative of what you’re going to find in this shop - doughnuts, hotdogs, American candy bars and soda pop. The signage also indicates that their classic glaze jelly doughnut is both original and famous. A quick search on the internet reveals the term “original glazed” is used pretty much exclusively by our mates over at KK, and as for famous, well, I ain’t heard of them before.

But, to the donut. Surprisingly, the dough wasn’t overly sweet (nice change), and was super soft in a very fresh kind of way. The original glaze, which had been somewhat disurbed by the packaging above, was the main source of sweetness on the first bite. The second bite yielded the other source, a generous pool of liquid raspberry jelly/jam that almost exploded out and down my skivvy (caught just in time!). I don’t know if I would call the doughnut fantastic - as it just seemed just a little too processed. I much prefer the hand rolled sugar-coated jam-filled yeasty little beauties at Queen Vic. But if you’re after that oh-so-bad-for-you hit of carbs, this will certainly satisfy.

EG, who has a more savoury bent, tried the hot dog. Unfortunately the first choice of ‘dog, the New Yorker, was unavailable due to a lack of onion relish. So he settled for the Dodger Dog, a footlong steamed frankfurter slathered in tomato ketchup, mustard, onions and cheese. Thumbs up to the bun, the dog and the ketchup. Thumbs down to the mustard, onion and the cheap arse shredded cheese.