Denn Restaurant

113 High Street, Northcote

http://www.denn.com.au/

A bon voyage lunch for Karina brought us to Denn restaurant in Northcote, a part of the city Orlando and I rarely frequent. A strip of cafes, bars, boutiques, coffee grinders and funky independent movie rental stores looked like it was worth a longer look on another Saturday afternoon. Bar Nancy, in particular, caught my attention, and will be the subject of another post in the future.

Denn sits next door to its sister bar, Ember (where you get 10% discount on showing your Denn receipt). The place is a little tardis-like, stretching far back to a bright airy extension with a tiny courtyard - a good place for a blast of sheltered sunshine on a wintry day perhaps.

The wine list looked fairly acceptable and reasonably-priced, however the selection of wines by the glass was a little disappointing. In terms of red, there was little more than one choice per grape variety.

The menu is modern Mediterranean, with a slight focus on wood-fired pizza and pasta. A short lunch menu caught the attention of most of our table of nine, with a dozen or so choices all for less than $15.

My choice was the "lunch pizza", the name and $10 price tag suggesting a more modest size than usual, with chorizo, Spanish onion, feta cheese and black olives. The vegetarian pizza was also a popular choice, with goat's cheese, spinach, zucchini and green peas. When served, they were standard sized pizzas, generously topped and cooked to perfection in the wood oven.

The fish and chips looked good but the chips were nothing to write home about. The pasta version of my chorizo pizza looked a little disappointing, with the half-moons of chorizo a little under-cooked for my liking. The Mexican breakfast of eggs, chorizo, avocado and home-baked beans again could have done with bit more cooking on the chorizo, but was a fine brunch choice. Karina's seafood linguine looked divine with plenty of shellfish in evidence including a couple of juicy-looking Moreton Bay bugs.

Service was average: it took a while to get our first and subsequent drinks, and at times we felt as if we were a bit of an irritation, with waiters trying to walk off in the middle of a large drinks order. My English breakfast tea had to be sent back as I'd asked for a weak tea, and what came out was unusually strong: the cafetiere had about three times the normal amount of tea leaves in. When I asked for it to be replaced, the waiter came back with a jog of hot water and I had to explain that the tea was not drinkable at all. She happily replaced my cafetiere, assuring me it was weak this time, but the same amount of tea leaves were used and it was still undrinkable. I gave up.

Nonetheless, Denn was an excellent choice for a leisurely lunch. I would have to be convinced that their service could put up with a busier evening crowd, but it's worth a try at those price. Lunch with plenty of wine and beer for nine people was $229, only $25 a head.

Saganaki

62 NewQuay Promenade, Docklands, VIC
http://www.saganaki.com.au/

A night out with some colleagues, two of whom don't eat glutens and one of whom doesn't eat seafood, meant that the Melbourne defaults of Italian or seafood were out. Greek it was.

It started well. Very well. Friendly staff, prompt wine service, lovely dips and bread. The conversation flowed, we perused the menu. The blokes went for large plates of meat of the souvlaki-sans-bread kind, and the girls shared mezze. Meatballs: gorgeous, done in a sundried tomato saucey thing. Cabbage salad: so good we ordered it twice. Lemonade potatoes: ditto. Grilled calamari: came in a complete grilled body, amazingly tender, perfectly grilled. Apparently the secret is to marinate in kiwi fruit beforehand. It went on and on.

Then we asked for the bill. Seven people, $50 each. No problem. Two of us remarked on the difference between the UK and Australia, in that you had to carry more cash than usual in Australia because of weird restaurants rules and the non-global acceptance of cards. It turned out, it was true of this restaurant. Three of us had cards, four had cash. The waitress did not know how to put through more than one card, and insisted that the only option we had was for at least two of the card-holders to take a ten-minute return trip to the nearest ATM in a howling gale on a windy horrible night (and one of them didn't have a coat). Luckily I had cash myself (but only because I had found $25 in my coat pocket). The others. the ones with only cards, were ropable.

We paid and left. Despite the good food, the old-fashioned approach to bill-paying will prevent me from going there again. Who carries that much cash around with them?

colmao flamenco

60 Johnston Street Fitzroy
www.colmaoflamenco.com

With one gluten-free dining companion and another that doesn't eat anything that swims, where does one go for dinner? Not Italian. Not seafood. Not Thai: we had that the week before. I know, I thought: tapas and a nice bottle of Spanish red. Perfect for an unseasonably cold April night.

Our original destination on Johnston Street was the bar next door. Kanela looked inviting enough until I realised that it was the very bar upon which I had danced - sober - on a birthday night out years ago. I am not sure if I thought somebody in there would recognise me, with more than ten years gone by and a good 10kg piled on. Anyway, it did not seem right so we headed to Colmao.

We were greeted by a friendly face, white starched tablecloths and a neighbouring table of Spanish people: a family celebrating a birthday. Promising. I was delighted to see one of my favourite Spanish wines on the list. The 2001 Pata Negra Valdepeñas was not as divine as the 1991 Gran Reserva, but it was still fabulous: a welcome change from an Australian wine.

We ate. A lot. It was all finger-licking delicious: well, except for the tortilla which should be the best bit but was a bit tired-looking and - dare I say - microwaved? The patatas bravas were crinkle-cut and perfectly cooked. The capsicum-laden spicy sauce was not for me but I bravely ate around it.

The garlic prawns were garlicky and full of chilli. The albondigas were firm in a lovey tomatoey sauce. The Champinoñes Maytip, sautéed in oregano, olive oil and white wine, were new to me but full of flavour. The chorizo was braised in tomato, onion, garlic and white wine. The baby octopus was delivered in a clay pot in a rich caramelised sauce full of green peas. To die for.

We ordered more albondigas, more garlic prawns. We knew we would be hell to sit beside next morning but to hell with it.

We ordered another bottle of Pata Negra. Silly not to.

In the end, full to pussy's bow and with Swine Flu seriously warded off with all that garlic, we gave up. Well, what I mean is that I ordered flan and we shared it. However, after all that red wine I am afraid I cannot really remember if it was good or not.

On some nights at Colmao they have a flamenco singer and guitarist. Must go back for that and some more of those garlic prawns.

Bis Cucina

Foster Street, Sale, Victoria

There are two restaurants in Sale listed int he Good Food Guide - no, make it one. Marlay's closed down recently.

We are left with Bis Cucina, in the modern Arts Centre building. From the outside it looks more like a casual cafe, but in the evening the ambience is inviting as you drive past the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I have eaten there twice, once alone and once with a colleague. On both occasions the service was outstanding: friendly, attentive, knowledgeable and discreet. Their home-made ravioli with a carrot, corn and parmesan sauce is to die for, but I bet you'll never finish a full portion. No matter: the maitre d' will happily package your leftovers for you to take home.

A lovely wine list full of local options too.

Almost worth a trip to Sale just to visit!

Cafe Barcelona

Another rainy night, another stupid decision. We were looking for somewhere cosy out of the chilly night air. Despite my previous assertion that I would not eat there again, we found ourselves back at Cafe Barcelona.

Sadly it was pretty empty (well it was a Monday night); despite this the waiter tried to place three of us at a table which was patently designed for two, and appeared a little put out when we asked to move. The front door would not close properly so we spent the evening shivering with our coats around us. They couldn't get the door to stay shut for more than a few minutes.

The food was mostly good, I'll grant you that. The tortilla was a bit ordinary, but the garlic mushrooms, meatballs, chilli prawns and everything else was lovely. Service (as before) was hit and miss. It took a few tries before we successfully scored more bread to mop up the delicious juices, and we had to defend the dishes stoutly in the meantime. I felt we were in the way to be honest.

The Spanish tempranillo (Vina Albali, one of my favourites) went down well, but we had to spike Shanna's sangria with a slug from the bottle. It was mostly fruit juice.

Again, a disappointing evening all told. This time I will tattoo it on my forehead: don't go back. The thing that annoys me is that Lola's Tapas is only down the road. Why can I never remember to go there?

The European

The European is a bit of a Melbourne institution, and I've loved it ever since I lived here for six months way back in 1998. The long, darkly-lit, wooden interior reminds me of all the best Spanish, Italian and French bars I've eaten in, and it is a great antithesis to the classic Melbourne eateries we are used to.

So Mena and I found ourselves having breakfast there last Friday morning. It was an auspicious date: twenty-six years to the day since she and Lee left Ireland to travel to Australia, and the spring equinox to boot. We were on a bookstore crawl to celebrate Mena's birthday the month before.

We sat in the back near the kitchen hatch, and settled in with two glasses of bone-dry champagne to get us in the mood. The staff are supremely professional, but started off a bit cold but perhaps it was just the time of day. They ended up being lovely.

My eggs benedict was divine, accompanied at my request with some grilled portobello mushrooms. Mena chanced the Croque Madame, worried that she might be disappointed, but she was also delighted. The champagne flowed, as did Mena's long macchiatos and my Earl Grey tea. Our waiter complimented Mena on her "double-beveraging" when she ordered fresh coffee.

Almost two hours and almost a bottle of champagne later, we finally prised ourselves from our table to get on with the bookstore-crawling. We could have stayed there all day, chatting and nibbling. Why can't we start the day with breakfast at the European every day?

Cafe Barcelona

It was the St. Kilda Festival this weekend. We popped in to BarCelona on Fitzroy Street early on Sunday evening to excape the crowds, the heat and the hurricane-force wind that had caught us in a dried-grass-storm... and got ripped off.

We should have known when we asked for a jug of water as soon as we sat down, and were told we couldn't have one. Large bottles of still or sparking water only today. We opted for the sangria, and were charged $28 compared to the standard menu price of $24.

Strangely, as soon as our two companions had ordered their food, the waitress disappeared so quickly that our calls for her to return went unnoticed. I wonder what she thought we two were going to eat?

Our companions ordered a platter of antipasto-type food for two at $20, and it was measly. The calamari, mussels, chicken wings, beef skewers and leak and parmesan croquetas were perfectly fine in fairness, but the food came out in dribs and drabs, and even our attempts to be given cutlery and napkins went unheard.

At $96 for four people, it was not value for money. And I'm sure it's illegal to refuse to serve tap water, regardless of whether you charge for it or not?

I've eaten at BarCelona before, and enjoyed it, but I won't be returning.

Abla's

Abla's is a bit of institution in Melbourne, reputed to be one of the oldest Lebanese restaurants in Australia. Able herself was born in Lebanon in 1935, and emigrated to Australia as a seventeen year old girl. During her young married life in Melbourne, she was taught to cook by the other women in the close-knit Lebanese community, as well as her uncle Joe. Abla's restaurant opened in 1979, in a terraced house in Carlton, and has been there ever since.

Inside, the restaurant still looks and feels like a house. Tables for two and four nestled downstairs near the kitchen, but they had put our rowdy table for thirteen upstairs in the open-plan area. It still felt like two bedrooms knocked into one.

We had ordered the banquet, so the food started coming as soon as the last person arrived. The white linen tablecloth was littered with wine (Abla's is BYO) as dishes of hummous, baba ganoush, and delicious think yoghurt came accompanied with flat Turkish bread. We tried not to fill up on bread but everything was so enticing.

Soon the starters arrived: bright green tabbouleh, falafels and silverbeet leaves wrapped around chickpeas and rice. the ladies' fingers were not okra, but sigar-shaped parcels of minced lamb, pine nuts and spices. Mena's favourite was the loubyeh, simple green beans tossed in a tangy tomato sauce.

The wine flowed and the conversation got louder. My wine bottle was emptying fast, and it was not my doing. The platters emptied one at a time, and we were wondering if we had space left when the main courses were served.

Chicken and rice was served beautifully, the chicken forming a crust around a mound of fragrant rice pilaff and almonds. The lamb skewers were perfectly grilled.

No dessert as such, just strong coffee served with the most divine Turkish delight and home-made baclawa.

As the evening drew to an end, Abla herself strolled from table to table, making sure to talk to each and every diner in her restaurant. Dressed in her utilitarian pinny she looked like a regular Melbournelady of a certain age, not the legend she is. She graciously stood for a photo with myself and Noela as we thanked her for a lovely evening.

It really did feel like you had gone to your aunty's for dinner: great food, wonderful service, engaging conversation with new people, and a chat with Abla at the end of the night. We shall be back.