Giuseppe, Arnaldo & Sons

A weekend late (very late) birthday treat with Lee saw us cruising Crown on a Sunday lunchtime looking for fish. We'd just spent a couple of hours in Melbourne Aquarium to see the baby hammerhead sharks, and seafood was the order of the day. You know your fate is sealed when you stand at an aquarium window staring at a large octopus, and the only three words that come to mind are: Lemon. Oregano. Chargrilled.

Sadly, Waterfront is gone forever, replaced by the shell of a new restaurant called Atlantic Bar & Grill. So we wandered into Giuseppe, Arnaldo's no later than noon to see what they could do for us.

It's a funky place with a serious pedigree, and I have heard nothing but good stuff about the place. On a 40C day in the city, we sat alongside the strange folding windows, opened out to show a sleepy riverfront, and the coolness of the interior still won out. The wait staff in their butcher's coats, jeans and Converse were attentive but not overpowering, and it didn't take us long to order two plates of the spaghetti with crab.

The wine list didn't really attract for wines by the glass, so I went with the house red, a tempranillo blend straight from the tap behind the bar. It worked. Beside us, a man about my own age entertained a gorgeous young four- or five-year-old to lunch. She sat imperiously at table, knowing how good she looked in that hairband with the huge pink flower, and looked like she was pretty good company.

Behind me the big salami showcase glistened, and we are not sure how we succeeded in not ordering a plate of everything, with a hunk of the fresh artisan bread lining the walls beyond. But we stuck to our guns, and awaited our pasta.

Not sure why the pasta was served wrapped in a baking sheet parcel. It was a lovely, garlicky, tomatoey pasta sauce with plenty of fresh crab meat, and I just know it was only in that oven for a few minutes. It didn't need to be oven-baked. But the visual impact was pretty good on arrival, even if the baking parchment then got in the way for the rest of the meal.

The pasta was too saucey for Lee. I didn't know what she meant. There is no such thing as too much sauce for me.

At the next table, a couple chose the chicken cacciatore which looked and smelled amazing. Nearby, somebody else chose the Sunday roast - suckling pig. Now, that looks like a dish to come back for.

I can't comment on the value for money, as lunch was Lee's treat, but the menu looked tempting enough for a second, more leisurely, visit another time.

loading dock

Riverfront, 70 Lorimer Street, South Wharf, Melbourne
(03) 9681 8289

A casual afternoon lunch with friends on a sunny Melbourne Sunday. Where to go? Initially I balked at the idea of Docklands, even on such a perfect day. Everybody knows that despite the developers' and Melbourne City Council's best efforts, Docklands is a wasteland, and only barely acceptable for about three weeks of the year when the wind is at its lowest and the mercury at its highest.

But no, this little gem of a place is on South Wharf, over the curly pedestrian bridge from Docklands proper, or a pleasant 10-minute stroll west along the river from the Polly Woodside. If you are a shopper, it's less than five minutes walk from the South Wharf DFO complex. The tables outside face north, so they are a bit of a sun-trap, with a small marina spread out in front, and city views all around. Perfect.

Over the course of four hours we grazed on perfectly-cooked thin-crust margherita pizza, fresh and flavoursome thai beef and black-seared tuna salads, generous panini, a pretty stunning Aussie burger, and a couple of excellent Jamaican dishes - curried goat and Jamaican-style snapper with pumpkin rice and okra.

One of the co-owners here is Jamaican, and on the third Sunday evening of the month they host a West Indian evening. We missed the last one being out of town, but February's is firmly in the diary.

The wait staff were lovely. Well, I admit one of them was the daughter of the friends with whom we were eating, but the other waiter didn't know who we were initially, and was most welcoming and accommodating. On paying our bill, one of the owners looked after us, and his civility gave us every reason to give him our custom again.

I have to say the pizzas alone are worth the wander down to this little-known corner of Melbourne city, and I know it is going to become a bit of a regular haunt for us.

So if you're looking for a new corner of Melbourne with some pretty good food and a laid-back riverside vibe, head down to Loading Dock. It's worth the detour.

sassy's jamaican kitchen

376 St Georges Road, Fitzroy North
www.sassyskitchen.com.au

A pre-birthday dinner on a Saturday night, and a (relatively) new Caribbean restaurant to try out. We head out to Sassy's Jamaican Kitchen in Fitzroy.

The reviews online are consistent and favourable: be prepared to wait, but the food is fantastic. We arrive not long after eight to a less-than-half-full restaurant: maybe eight or nine other diners scattered around a spacious room, sparsely decorated with Jamaica posters and yukka plants, and with a gentle reggae vibe in the background.

Our waiter - the only waiter - offers us chilled water and promises to return with glasses for our bottle of Chandon. In the end, we pour our bubbly into our water glasses. The menu is sparse but enticing. Apart from a few vegetarian starters and mains, there is a choice of fish or chicken, both jerked. Curried goat is on special. In order to try everything, we choose jerk chicken to share as a starter, then one jerk fish and one curried goat.

An hour passes. Happily, I am in good company, and the conversation flows. Most of the other diners leave. Others arrive and leave with takeaway boxes of food, which is fascinating as we have not heard a phone ring once. Sassy himself comes out and starts to clear tables. I wonder why he is not cooking our food, or perhaps whether our order has been lost.

Finally, after almost an hour and a half, our starter arrives. Two pieces of barbecued jerk chicken, a generous dollop of yellow vegetable curry and an upside-down bowl of rice and peas, with a couple of piping-hot sideplates to eat from. To be honest, it is not the best start. The chicken is not heavily seasoned at all, not with chilli, not with anything much. It has either been well over-cooked, or cooked earlier and carelessly re-heated. The vegetable curry is actually quite tasty, and without it the rest of the dish would have been far too dry.

Moments after taking our plates away, the main courses arrive. The same upside-down bowl of rice and peas accompany each dish. The curried goat is not off the bone as confirmed, but it is pretty delicious. Not at all spicy-hot, but very well seasoned and very slowly cooked. Pity there is not more of it. The two smallish pieces of jerk fish are delicious too, one more spicy than the other to my taste. Again, without the vegetable curry this dish would have been far too dry, but overall it was enjoyable.

The rice and peas are a disappointment. The rice is far too dry, and the peas are kidney beans. Would have been good to see proper gunga or pigeon or even azuki peas used. And despite the diners being in single digits all night, we still have to list for our waiter what we'd eaten so he could make up our bill. He tells us this is his third night working here, and it's the busiest night so far.

Nonetheless, it was a pleasant evening. Not sure that I would hold Sassy's up as a perfect example of good Caribbean food: it needs a bit more chilli heat and a bit more care in both food preparation and service to get better marks. Maybe even a bottle of pepper sauce on each table so customers can adjust the heat of their food to taste.

That said, I get the best Caribbean food at home all the time so I know I am fortunate.

Will it be a regular haunt? Not sure if we would ever hop in the car and take a twenty-minute drive across town for any of the dishes we ate. But at $46 for two (not including $5 corkage which we think they just forgot) it wasn't a bad night's value.

fill up on wine

I just spent three weeks in Ireland, enjoying the availability of lots of wine I don't normally see: Argentinian, Chilean, Spanish, Italian, French. We can of course get non-Australian wines here, but the range in your average off-licence can be limited, a bit like the range of Australian wines you can get in Europe. So back in Ireland I loved quaffing lots of Chilean merlots, French Côtes du Rhônes, and excellent Spanish riojas, tempranillos and valdepeñas.

Back in Dan Murphy's yesterday, I was re-stocking my woefully empty shelves. This picture was taken of Dan's fine wines section. The rest of the warehouse is full of cheaper wines, beers and spirits stacked high.

You can see from the signs that the wines are displayed in order of state of origin. Along the walls are foreign wines, mostly French and Italian, fortifieds (both domestic and foreign) and rarer, more expensive bottles.

The wines lying flat on floor display are then stored below on the square shelves for selection. Each of those display bottles is a different wine from a different producer. It took me over two years to venture outside the three or four aisles of local Victorian wines: why would I? There are literally dozens of wineries within an hour's drive of my house.

I am fortunate to know the owner or chief winemaker of a handful of wineries personally. I am always tempted to return to their familiar wines but I make a concerted effort to try new bottles, especially after the Melbourne Food and Wine Show when we have the chance to try lots of new producers.

This time I chose half a dozen durifs from Rutherglen - three Campbells and three of The Bruiser. I threw in three bottles of my weekday favourite, Tar and Roses, a Heathcote shiraz (well, it's Mount Macedon next week and their over-the-counter selection isn't fantastic). Then I went completely mad, ended up in the South Australia aisles and selected three Torbreck Woodcutters shiraz from 2008, which has superstar written all over it. Can't wait.

chez olivier

121 Greville Street, Prahran
www.chezolivier.com

Winter Solstice is upon us again. Well: officially tomorrow is the shortest day, but my trip to Sydney tomorrow put the kibosh on our usual 21st June celebration of winter. So a Solstice Eve Sunday luncheon was in order.

Eileen suggested Chez Olivier in Prahran, a tiny slice of France in Greville Street surrounded by chi-chi boutiques and jewellery shops. We found Mena sipping a Baileys at a window seat by the bar, surrounded by pastis bottles, fifties French posters, urns full of wine corks, and French waiters wearing black waistcoats with the tricolour on their breasts.

We gathered at an upstairs table, by a huge picture window - great for natural light. We had the whole floor to ourselves. Mena, in her element, ordered escargots for a starter. Each snail came served in a tiny steel jug, drowning in butter and laced with garlic. My warm goat's cheese salad had a centrepiece of crusty bread smothered in beautiful chevre. Onion soup, a seafood millefeuille, seafood bisque and a caramelised onion, anchovy and olive tart completed the traditional French fare for first course, all washed down with a good pinot chosen by Kelvin (of course).

After a decent interval, the mains arrived, all accompanied by a 2006 bottle of Sanguine Estate's Heathcote shiraz. Duck ruled, with Mena choosing the magret of the day served on creamy mash and wilted greens, Robyn choosing the "Frozzie duck", double-roasted and served with lemon and pepper mash, bok choi and pickled ginger, and a few more opting for the cassoulet a la "Jacky", with duck confit and pulses.

My bouillabaisse was full of fresh salmon, prawns, mussels and scallops, but could have been a lot more tomatoey and a lot more garlickey. Orlando's baked salmon was served with creamy mash, and looked good but Orlando thought it ordinary. A second bottle of the Heathcote was ordered, but like a lot of the wine list they were out of stock so we upgraded to a 2006 Sanguine Estate d"Orsa shiraz which did very nicely.

Desserts looked and tasted good for the most part. The mousse au chocolat (Orlando's choice, naturally) was a huge helping served with fresh strawberries. A few chose the "self-saucing, self-indulging chocolate fondant" which lived up to its legend. My tarte tatin was a little disappointing: none of the bite of a good cooking apple in there. And Mena completed her classic French lunch with crepes Suzette complete with flaming Grand Marnier, which she pronounced divine.

Interestingly, from Sunday to Thursday the restaurant charges $11 a head for whatever wine you have chosen, so despite the wine list suggesting a total bill of about $200 for the wine alone, that is all we were charged - $11 a head. This certainly made up for the limited availability of some wines on the list. Total bill for seven came to $598, which was about $85 a head.

By then, we were alone in the restaurant, the wait staff had mostly gone home and those remaining were preparing for the evening's sitting. The light was fading as we wrapped ourselves in coats and scarves against the chilly evening air. Quite a civilised solstice lunch to mark the passage of time in winter. Tomorrow, the days will get longer by a cock's stride, and we can look forward to spring.

As for Chez Olivier, despite one or two pedestrian meals, our overall experience was lovely, and fantastic value too. I can imagine this will become a favourite winter haunt.

the noodle house

1 Southbank Boulevard, Southbank
www.thenoodlehouse.com.au

A drunken start to the evening saw Eileen and Kelvin escorting me down Southbank away from the Melbourne Good Food & Wine Show, to fill me up with food before sending me home. The Noodle House is a newish addition to the restaurants along Southbank, near World and Il Primo Posto. It's a franchise operation, most of its sister restaurants being in the Middle East: Dubai, Muscat, Kuwait and the like.

Wagamama-like benches and tables lined up inside a warm, weloming space; mad diners sat outside in the freezing cold under gas heaters. We used the tick-box order form to get some dumplings and pork buns going. Later, a platter of Peking Duck with pancakes didn't have enough hoi sin sauce or shredded vegetables to accompany it, but they went down well nonetheless. Out char kway teow didn't look like the classic recipe, but it was piping hot and tasty as hell.

Service was pretty good until we wanted the bill, then there was nobody to be found. I can't comment on value for money as my dining companions very nicely picked up the tab.

The Noodle House is definitely worth another look when slightly more compos mentis, and likely to be a good back-up option when stuck for choices on Southbank.

Good Food Show 2010 - before and after

I started blogging about the Melbourne Good Food Show before this blog existed, so I've kept those posts with their older sisters on my other blog.



Follow these links to get the before story and the after story!

mammy dinner

A routine trip to the hospital and a dose of anaesthetic yesterday meant I needed chaperoning overnight. Lee and Mena came to visit, the former to stay over and play nursemaid, and the latter to cook dinner for us.

I was feeling perfectly fine and totally compos mentis, except Lee said I wasn't really: apparently my intelligence level seemed to have decreased somewhat. Now and again I made a declaration which elicited a puzzled response from her, because apparently I was making no sense whatsoever and even getting simple sums wrong. Horrifying.

Meanwhile Mena arrived and set to work cooking the exact menu that was served in our family home for decades on a Tuesday (and still is). Eggs, beans and chips. Perfect comfort food. I added sausages to the menu, having been to Paddy's the Irish butcher last week and so having a plethora of pork products to hand.

Nothing fancy: real Heinz beans, two eggs dry-fried sunny side up, and potatoes chipped by hand and oven-cooked with a little spray oil. Irish-recipe pork sausages fried in the pan (they are really low fat and dry-frying them gives a much better browning effect than grilling). The only thing was that I only had regular malt vinegar. A nice onion vinegar would have gone down well with the chips. A good dollop of tomato sauce for dipping (sorry, Andy, it was shop-bought) and it was just the perfect Mammy Food.

I probably shouldn't have, but instead of washing it down with a nice strong cup of tea, I indulged in a cheeky glass of two of a nice Langhorne Creek shiraz cabernet. Not strictly Irish kosher, but on the eve of St. Patrick's Day I reckon that was forgivable.

Labour Weekend Foodie Style - Sunday

Labour Day Sunday was time for brunch in Babble On Babylon, the venue for the boys' cycling lunch most Sundays. Marty runs the only West Indian cafe in town, and his Jamaican breakfasts, stamp'n'go salad and curried goat are excellent.

We crammed into the back room while the kids played in alley. Nina's rice and peas and chicken looked excellent - well-seasoned and well-cooked chicken which Orlando manfully helped her polish off.

My Jamaican breakfast was just perfect: chilli eggs on toasted sourdough, plaintain, ackee and saltfish, with a side of roasted tomatoes. I never have the johnny cakes because I find them too heavy.

Eric's big bowl of curried goat (no bones, plenty of spice) went down a treat too.

Station Hotel Footscray

59 Napier Street Footscray
http://www.thestationhotel.com.au/

A table at the Station Hotel is a hard thing to come by on a Saturday night. A few years ago Sean Donovan, he of the Botanical and various Michelin-starred establishments in France and London, headed way out west to craft the sort of gastro-pub he always dreamed of. Nobody thought it would fly, but they were wrong.

Located off the beaten track, near the police station and town hall on the outskirts of Footscray, you would drive past it a hundred times without glancing. The bar is still a regular old bar, although a lot more gentrified than the last time I visited over a year ago. The pool table is still there but no longer in pride of place, and the diners have spilled over into the bar on more casually-set tables. The only people sitting at the bar were also eating, and this time I believe Adam would have been quite happy waiting for me on a barstool, cheeky glass of red in hand.

It was a quiet Saturday night, our waiter said. A big bear of a man, he hit a perfect balance between friendly service, formality and knowledge of the menu. This place is famous for its steaks and we both gravitated to the listing. Our waiter patiently explained the difference between wagyu and Angus, grain-fed and grass-fed, Bavette and rostbiff, and the varying degrees of ageing.

The longest-aged steak on offer is a 450-day Sher Wagyu rostbiff, which is what I chose, with a terrine de campagne to start. Nothing like the gourmet equivalent of good 1970s food on a wet autumn night. Orlando chose the provencal fish soup to start, followed by a Gippsland dry-aged grass fed lump of Black Angus rump. I started with a glass of Mitchell's Peppertree shiraz, which was served to me before I saw the Torbreck's GSM on the listing. Never mind.

The fish soup was sensational. Dark red and smooth like tomato ketchup, it had the very essence of the sea in there, along with obscene amounts of garlic and good after-kick. I really need that recipe. Mystarter was also divine, but huge: it was a pleasure to wade through this hunk of ham terrine aided by some toasted sourdough, but towards the end I was not sure where I was going to fit my main course. The Peppertree shiraz went down like a dream and before I knew it my glass was empty. On to the Torbreck's. Marvellous.

Our steaks were served simply with a handful of chunky hand-cut chips and a simple but delicious green salad which I devoured for once in my life. My rostbiff (which is a portion of the rump) was out of this world, like the last time I ate here. A good strong flavour and a texture that cut like butter. It was cooked medium-rare, perfectly seared outside and a deep pink inside. Orlando's Angus was similarly beautifully-cooked to medium, another lovely steak but with a gentler flavour. We ate slowly.

The restaurant was still quite loud like last time, and could do with a few more wall hangings or other upholstery to soak up some of the noise. The clientele was a mixed bunch: a Vietnamese family at the next table with a single white man amongst them (probably the daughter's boyfriend), two large tables of young people celebrating birthdays or some such, a couple of well-heeled foursomes of a certain age with Melbourne intelligentsia haircuts and avant-garde outfits, and a few local couples like ourselves out for a quiet dinner.

Overall a great evening's food, and the change of vibe in the bar would certainly entice me down for a counter meal or two mid-week now I know you can eat at the bar in reasonably pleasant surroundings.

Republica

St. Kilda Beach
www.republica.net.au

Dinner with workmates from across the country after a two-day planning session led us to St. Kilda beach on a beautiful late summer evening. We'd spent the previous couple of days staring out to sea ourselves from the local surf lifesaving club, and as the sun started dipping in the sky we found our way back to St. Kilda beach. The place was still buzzing, with every restaurant busy and the beach volleyball in full swing. The sailing boats flew by and a few brave ones went for their evening swim. A live DJ added to the buzz.

We had one coeliac with us but it wasn't a problem. There was a little "g" against almost half the items on the menu meaning those dishes were gluten-free. We shared a really good charcuterie board and some dips as a starter. Even in a pretty casual place like Republica it was good to hear they made everything including the bread and dips themselves from fresh ingredients. Even the prosciutto and thinly-sliced beef were aged and cured in-house. Impressive. The board was completed by an excellent ham-hock terrine, a handful of white anchovies, some good chorizo, a beautiful washed-rind soft cheese, the tiniest, sweetest Ligurian olives and a pig's ear salad.

Gluten-free Sally had butterflied whole king prawns, chargrilled with smoked pimiento butter, and shared a summer salad of tomatoes, shallots and Thai basil with Catherine, who opted for a baby arrowhead squid stuffed with mussels, spinach and piperade on squid-ink risotto. Both seafood options looked and tasted divine, although the risotto was incredibly rich and beat us all in the end.

Pieter and I both went for the 300g sirloin with confit kipfler potatoes and lardons. One was served rare and one medium-rare. Both were sensational: one of the best steaks I have had in a long time and I've been craving one for a few days now. They were perfectly cooked inside and chargrilled to perfection on the outside. I ate slowly and savoured every mouthful. Our lardons were stolen with impunity by our dining companions - who can resist deep-fried pork belly?

The seafood was all washed down with a lovely young chilled Marlborough sauvignon blanc from Angel Cove, whilst Pieter and I (partners in red wine as always) went local and enjoyed a Heathcote shiraz malbec from Wild Duck Creek Estate: a little older and just perfect with the steak.

Overall a grand total of $275, so $70 a head. With the quality of food we enjoyed and the spectacular sunset, well worth it.

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?

bok choy tang

Federation Square, Melbourne
http://www.bokchoytang.com.au/

Dinner for thirteen is a challenge, so the group takes turns every six weeks choosing a restaurant. Orlando - unsurprisingly - chose a posh Chinese. We had been to Bok Choy Tang before, late last summer on a stormy night. Our memories of the food and the service were good.

I was last to arrive to a rowdy table. The waiter was busy trying to take our order, so I had about two minutes to choose. We had all decided to order individually so the waiter advised that all of our food would not come out together. Why not? If this was any other type of restaurant we would all be served more or less at the same time.

I chose the pork dumplings, given that this is a Northern Chinese restaurant, and Orlando chose the duck pancakes. The pancakes were strange: they came to the table in a woven basket, already made up and then deep fried. A bit pub-food-looking. They had a crisp coating reminiscent of those "southern-fried" oven chips you can buy. They tasted fine but you could not really taste the duck, or any of the complex flavours you expect from duck pancakes. My dumplings were perfectly cooked and of a decent size, although there were only three of them. No dipping sauce however - I had to steal some of Orlando's sweet chilli sauce which is not what you want for your dumplings.

I went with something nice and reliable for main course. I have great memories of delicious Szechuan chicken from our journey through China, and this was the taste I was looking for: perfectly fried chunks of chicken with plenty of dried chillies and onion. It came out exactly as I wanted, and a generous portion too.

About half of us got served at the same time, whilst the rest waited. Orlando, Nat and Craig had to chase their food a couple of times, and the waiter looked pretty perplexed. I reckon there had been a mix-up because they had ordered dishes that others had already been served. Finally Nat and Craig got their food but Orlando was still waiting. Most people had finished eating when his steamed chilli barramundi came out.

After all that waiting, his dish was a disappointment. There was no chilli at all on the fish, just a generous coating of diced red capsicum. Although steamed to perfection and filleted by the waiter at the table, it had little flavour.

The other small gripe was that the rice was served in very small individual bowls, so if you wanted more you had to order it again. Given the time it took to get served, this was not really an attractive proposition. I could have done with more myself.

Strangely, we were not given bowls to eat from, but small flat dishes with a vertical side much like a small flan dish. No good at all for eating with chopticks. I ended up eating from my tiny rice bowl which was difficult given the size.

Most people were happy with their orders, and the bill at $56 per head was excellent value given the amount of alcohol consumed. However I would not recommend Bok Choy Tang for a large table of diners again. Best to go in a smaller group so that you can be sure of better service.

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.

bistro vite

Southgate, Melbourne

I will admit the main criterion for choosing a place for dinner this night was location. We had tickets to see The Bar at Bueno Vista in Hamer Hall, and we needed to be close. Eliminating all the Italian places that would have been higher on my list to accommodate Orlando, this was what was left.

At least it was cosy. There were people dining outside, and whilst it had been a pleasant day, it was pretty chilly when the sun went down. The wait staff were nice enough but absentminded. The maitre d', I have to say, was aloof.

Starters were a mixed bag. Orlando's smoked salmon salad was decently-proportioned, and Kelvin's zucchini souffle looked good enough, but not much like a souffle. Our French onion soup was tasteless. We tried some salt, and then Eileen went searching for black pepper. Neither improved the taste of this blandness. A bowl of hot beef Oxo would have been nicer.

Two roast ducks and two steak frites came next. The duck was nice enough, Eileen and Kelvin said, but the skin - the best part of course - was limp and not at all well-cooked. Our steaks were generous but less than average. I left the last one-third of mine because I couldn't get through the gristle. The French fries were nice I have to say: a huge bed of them with the juices of the steak mingling with the tiny amount of garlic butter I had allowed to melt before I took it off the plate.

All in all, a pedestrian meal. I would not be lining up to dine in Bistro Vite again.

namaste indian

225 King Street Melbourne
www.namasteindian.com.au

A "last supper" with friends before their trip to London required traditional English food. A curry was in order. I'd eaten at Namaste Indian on King Street about a year ago, and remembered the food as being predictable but tasty. I booked to visit again.

On a chilly Friday evening the restaurant was almost empty, although quite a few tables filled up whilst we were there. Sadly with so many empty tables to choose from the second group to arrive were sat right beside us. They turned out to be an exuberant and loud (but good-natured) bunch of blokes out for a curry after a few beers. It meant we could hardly hear ourselves speak for the duration of the meal, as we looked longingly at quieter tables on the other side of the restaurant.

We had an inauspicious start when the first bottle of wine I ordered was not available. With such little choice to start with, I ended up with a distinctly average bottle of Hunter Valley cabernet sauvignon, whilst Orlando made do with nothing as they had no sparkling wines whatsoever available. The menu also appeared much more limited than I imagined: the menu listed on the website is from their Bundoora restaurant and that is more like what I remembered. The menu we had to choose from was severely limited.

Our starters arrived piecemeal, with Chris waiting an age for some mashed potato patties stuffed with spiced mince. Orlando's tandoori mixed grill looked appetising and generous, whilst my fish tikka was a miserly three tiny pieces seasoned badly. Robyn's tandoori mushrooms looked miserable: they were undercooked with a dark-coloured seasoning on them which did not look at all tandoori-like. Hmm.

The main courses fared a little better. The naan bread was fine and the beef and lamb vindaloos were perfectly edible but not amazing. Robyn and Chris' twin Namaste chicken curries were tasty enough, but again left me a little cold. I could have prepared better myself at home.

Afterwards, at least two of us felt a little ill and continued to do so for at least a day. Not sure if we ate something that didn't agree with us, but I won't be recommending Namaste in a hurry.

st. jude's cellars

389-391 Brusnwick Street Fitzroy
http://www.stjudescellars.com.au/

A frantic dash across the Tasman Sea from Hobart saw me arriving late on Brunswick Street for a major catch-up and gossip session with my best friend Eileen.

St. Jude's Cellars is a canteen-like funky space with a cage full of wine that you can choose from and drink at your table or take away. We sat at a cosy table for two and the maitre d' hid my luggage away in the manager's office out of the way.

A glass of The Story shiraz soothed my frequent flyer worries away. After an epic month of flying to every corner of Australia, this had been the final trip and I could feel myself winding down as I sipped at my generous glassful.

The ham hock terrine we both ordered to start was lovely - it almost tasted like "proper" Irish ham (which is cured in brine rather than smoked as is the Aussie way), although there was a little too much aspic for my liking.

My rabbit pie was perfect for a late summer evening - full of flavour and goodness. Eileen's lamb special was three different cuts of lamb on the one plate - a huge serving and all delicious.

Service was attentive and friendly, the food obviously well-chosen from the best ingredients. The menu advised that the jams and chutneys were sourced from the local primary school - now that's fresh and local taken to the extreme!

I sense this place will become a well-worn favourite especially over the winter months with such hearty food and such a warm welcome.

fiddling while Rome burns

The Strand, Williamstown
www.thestrandrestaurant.com.au/

It turns out I have a day off on Friday, a day with an extreme fire danger. Needing to go out into the fresh air rather than sit inside, despite the high temperatures, I head to Williamstown.

The Strand restaurant overlooks the marina and the city. On a Friday lunchtime it is quiet enough, with only two of the terrace tables occupied. I sit at the table with the best view and the further position from the crying baby, and settle in with my new copy of Vanity Fair.

The menu is short but appetising. An array of seafood, fresh pasta and steak proves difficult to choose from. I struggle to choose between a tiger prawn and rocket risotto and a seafood curry. The seafood curry wins out.

My starter, a Greek salad, is chunky and delicious, with just the right amount of olive oil and oregano but sadly missing the red onion promised on the menu. There could be a lot more feta cheese - two chunks is miserly even without considering the price.

The seafood curry, strangely, is served with risoni instead of rice, a bit like a bouillabaisse. I am put off momentarily but the dish wins out in the end. I scoop up tiger prawns, lumps of white fish, freshly steamed mussels and the odd scallop all swimming in a hot coconutty red curry gravy. It lasts an age.

Across the road a young man lets his girlfriend have a try on his shiny new motorbike. She wobbles wildly and he stops her before she topples over. Undeterred, she tries again, swerving madly behind some grasses which obscure her inevitable downfall. I, and the people at the table beside me, stop eating to watch the spectacle. The young bloke runs towards the girl, alarmed. We can't see the motorbike but can just about see the sun glinting off the top of her helmet as she sits, no doubt despondent, in the shrubbery. Moments later, he has the motorbike back on its wheels. He caresses it fondly. No sign of giving the girl a hand up. Both tables wail as a stationery van parks in front of us momentarily, blocking our view. You couldn't pay for this quality of live entertainment over lunch.

I finish my glass of Wild Duck Creek shiraz malbec and gaze across the city. The haze is partially from the weather and partially from the fires still going across the state, many today quite close to the city. My colleagues are watching the Country Fire Association fire list grow and deploying volunteers to where the people are congregating. Like Nero I sit and do what I do to relax. Today is not my day.

At just over $70, my two course lunch with wine was worth it. Discreet and friendly service, perfect setting, excellent food (notwithstanding my lack of red onion - I like red onion). I will be back for dinner some evening.

The Station Hotel

Station Hotel
59 Napier Street Footscray
http://www.thestationhotel.com.au/

Adam and I ventured into the inner west for dinner tonight. A convenient fifteen minute walk from my house turned out to be more like half an hour, so I was late for our date and I found Adam outside on the pavement. The bar at the Station is still a bit of a standard suburban Melbourne hotel, and a little less fragrant than the boy is used to... I concurred when I wandered in, I have to say. I would not have been too relaxed sipping a nice glass of red at the bar by myself.

Undeterred, we presented ourselves at the dining room which upon first glance appeared a little crowded, a little noisy, a little lacking in atmosphere. We are usually more interested in the gossip and the wine than the food, but we both noticed it. A glass of 2004 McLaren Vale Brini shiraz grenache soothed us as we perused the menu: heavy on the steaks, and to my alarm very heavy on the seafood as starters. Adam does not do fish. Ever.

He reassured me that he would not starve, and we both chose soup for starter: mine a provencal fish soup and his a traditional French onion soup. Both were excellent.

Our charming Mancunian waiter took us through the complexities of a menu with no less than eight steaks on there. The provenance of each was listed along with where it was farmed, what it was fed, and the length of time it was aged. The only thing we were not privy to was the beast's name.

Eventually we both settled upon the same thing: a 250g Sher Wagyu (Victoria) 450 day grain fed wagyu rostbiff. This means it comes from a cow from a particular breed which has been fed on a special grain diet for at least 450 days. A rostbiff cut is part of the rump - the rump without the cap, if that means anything to you.

For the uninitiated, wagyu beef is from a breed of cattle that is genetically predisposed to intense marbling of the flesh, giving the steak an incredible tenderness and flavour. I had never eaten one until tonight.

Our steaks were served simply, with a generous green salad, some chunky chips and some bearnaise and pepper sauces on the side. They did not disappoint. Without exception I can say this this was simply the best steak I have ever eaten. Adam reckoned a steak he'd been served in Chicago some months earlier came pretty close, but he was deeply impressed too.

We ate slowly, carefully. I put my knife and fork down after every second mouthful. This was a meal not to be rushed.

After carefully enjoying every morsel, we were tempted by dessert. My bread and butter pudding was feted as one of the best desserts in Melbourne: it was very good, but not the best I've had. Adam's dessert special of pannacotta, berry compote and blood orange sorbet went down a treat. Again, he savoured every mouthful, and declared it the best dessert he had ever had. The strange tiny red berry-type things in his compote we could not identify until the waiter explained that it was sago.

Food aside, the decor of the restaurant area was fine, but the layout of the tables was a little institutional. It needs something to break up the monotony of three simple columns of tables, and maybe make things a bit more intimate at least in places. Some more comfortable seating would also be welcomed. Both us had numb backsides after the first hour.

Not bad for a simple straightforward suburban hotel, even if the new owner used to be the executive chef at the Botanical. If they could just make the bar more welcoming to diners before and after dinner, they will really be onto a winner.

Nevertheless, I am delighted such excellent steaks are being served so close to home. This will become a regular haunt, no doubt.