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you wander down to the cafe right by the very last stop on the 96 tramline. there is only one table left, on the footpath, separated from the saturday arvo hoonsters by nothing more than a flap of plastic sheeting. the table may be almost disastrously wobbly, and that guy with the hotted up engine snarling up nicholson street threatens to send the salt and pepper shakers vibrating onto the floor… and then the tea service arrives, and it’s all good.

here at milkwood, the pot of house-blended chai comes with all the trimmings: a strainer to catch the tea leaves and spices, and a little pot of pale runny honey. there is enough tea in the pot for three large gold-rimmed cupfuls. which gives you something to fill your mouth with as you wait (and wait) for your food to show up. but when it does…

well! i was quite unprepared for the mountain of mushrooms on my plate. they were plump and succulent, blushing with the faintest kiss of lemon thyme. the crunchy toast was buttered and then generously slathered in ricotta. it all made for a big plate of rude good health.

the kid, having embraced the wonder of googie eggs, ordered poached eggs on toast with a side of avocado, which came drizzled in lemon oil and whole peppercorns its own little dish. niiice! the eggs were pretty much perfect — pristine white globules that we broke open to release their molten golden yolks. the kid was polite enough to share.

mmm…

we sat and watched the trams roll in and out; we would not be moving for a while. but when we did finally make it to the counter to pay, i discovered a display cabinet filled with house-made treats. lamingtons, for example, covered in big chips of coconut… fat rounds of wholesome cakes, cut into generous slices… a tidy pile of very homely monte carlos, quite unlike the uniform incarnations out of an arnott’s packet. there was no room in my belly, but i bought one anyway.

later in the afternoon, i tossed it to the kid and her dad, and let them fight it out amongst themselves. (i did get a large enough crumb to let you know that the biscuits were cakey, and the jam seedy and tart. if i’d had a cup of tea handy, i might have kept the cookie for myself.)

i don’t know why it’s taken us this long to get to milkwood. ok, well, i do know: we’ve been past every saturday in the last couple of months, but we’re always coming from chinese class and jumping on the tram to the city, or the beach, or the museum or wherever. now we know better. there is no reason why we should not linger, and the lamington behind glass (the tea and mushrooms, the eggs, the love heart cinnamon toast, the grilled ham off the bone…) is clearly reason why we should.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 21 June 2011 at 11:32 am

permalink | filed under around town, breakfast, lunch

there was talk of a mamak roti breakfast, but by the time we got round to it, it was lunch with another kind of flatbread: pizza at D.O.C.! i’d been wanting to come here for aaages — a couple of months, anyway — and beloved interstate friends with errands in carlton and a penchant for pizza were the perfect excuse. arriving at the tail end of conventional lunchtime, we were lucky to get the end of the long table by the big window, and i was lucky to have the winter sun streaming through said window, warming my back.

a compact, handsome italian man presented us with menus, typed up in a 90s typewriter font: it felt like coming home. we saw the antipasti at the next table, and smelt the truffle oil wafting from passing pizze. we took too long to decide; we wanted one of everything. what we ended up with was a fat plait of mozzarella with a small salad of shaved fennel and sweet, meaty mouthfuls of whole white anchovies…

a pizza of salsicce and pureed broccoli — which caused me to gasp in amazement when it was placed in front of us. it was like a platter of spring meadow, with the delicate green crema di broccoli and the rosy blossoms of sausage meat. i believe i may have clapped, and then when i actually did bite into it, the applause rang loud in my head. i find myself thinking about it a day later, and plotting my return.

and the pizza abruzzese — topped with paper thin slices of porchetta, mustard fruit and radicchio. how festive! if it is the intriguing premise of mustard fruit that compels you to order this pizza, be warned that an uneven distribution of the tiny cubes of candied fruit means that your slice might only be pork belly fatty crunchy. even though it will be delicious, you may be disappointed. fortunately, my slice had two bits of mustard fruit on it, and i can tell you that it made my experience a little bit like christmas. the combination of pork belly fatty crunchy and candy sweet fruity softness made my brain wobble with glee. (of course, the stern radicchio kept deliriousness in check.)

we also had a salad of rocket and pear dressed in pecorino and the tiniest hint of honey, and then we sat, sated, and considered the dessert menu: a tiramisu made with sweet goat cheese; a nutella calzoncino, before taking ourselves, after a detour at the spice shop round the corner, across the road to brunetti.

here is how you cap off a meal of gold standard pizza: behold the piemontese with its jaunty golden hazelnut crown, a crunchy profiterole filled with an almost unnecessarily tall column of hazelnut cream — that’s cream, flecked with ground-up hazelnuts — all the better to hide its central artery of sweet-savoury hazelnut praline. there will be waddling after, waddling to the corner to bid your farewells, and then waddling the three blocks to the homeward-bound tram… but absolutely no regrets.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 13 June 2011 at 11:06 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, lunch

apparently it is 19° today, and sunny. i should pop outside.

we did pop outside last sunday, when it was cloudy and grey, and some 4° cooler. no matter. a good section down by the yarra was festooned with big orange balloons (and all manner of installation and artwork) to celebrate the 150th birthday of the art gallery. lured by the promise of a dancing rhinoceros (and for some of us, a taco) we sauntered across the river, impressed in varying degrees by: an ancient indian carpet recreated in coloured rice and lentils; a staircase covered in ornamental stenciled mud and ash; the goddess guanyin sculpted in sand; a painting of a digger rendered in real life by a street performer; a bronzed and smiling buddha walking serenely down the avenue… and then, finally, across the road: the rhinoceros. the kid was surprisingly disappointed to find that it was only a puppet, albeit a life-sized puppet operated by two concealed humans.

nevermind. life’s great disappointments can be soothed with a cupcake. outside the arts centre, at the very edge of the sunday craft market, sophisticakes had a stall with some very compelling specimens. billowy buttercream, sugar butterflies… that sort of thing. a sea of pinks and pastels which the kid eschewed for a brown on brown cookies ‘n’ cream cupcake topped with a miniature oreo. i was sucked in by the gold-glittery new york, new york — chocolate cake with tahitian vanilla buttercream. the frosting was not great; it had a rich vanilla flavour, but it was more sugary than buttery, a little too crunchy and harsh. the cake, on the other hand, was quite amazing: all dark chocolate moistness. when it was gone, i was immediately wistful.

in lieu of more cake, we tracked down the taco truck, tucked away amid a grove of orange balloons, and ordered lunch. from a modest menu of three tacos — fish, chicken or potato, i got us a taco plate: two tacos and corn chips for $12. and then we waited, and waited, and reminded ourselves that it was fresh food, cooked to order, and then after a few more minutes of admiring the lovingly handpainted truck (sweet video on the painting of here)…

…

…a waxed paper box traversed the pass.

mmm… my fish taco had a freshly fried bit of fish — succulent in its crunchy batter. the red cabbage slaw was a perfect purple foil, cabaggy juices mingling with the poppyseed mayo to leave trails of vibrant violet as i made my way through it.

the kid was similarly impressed with her grilled, marinated chicken taco, and especially with its sublimely sweet and juicy corn relish.

we sat in the shadow of the truck and ate, and just a couple of bites in, a tableau of the sydney nolan footballer painting sprang to life around us. the kid ran off to play pretend footy, leaving me with a cluster of corn chips. i’m pleased to say they were all limey tang and salty crunch.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 1 June 2011 at 2:44 pm

permalink | filed under around town, art, cake, lunch

why, hello!

it’s been a lovely afternoon… and — at the time of the photograph — it isn’t yet noon.

some minutes before, i polished off the most delicious mushroom sandwich that ever crossed my plate. it was a handful of fat field mushrooms, roasted until plump and moist, tucked into a tidy ciabatta, nestled in pillows of mild goats’ curd. there was pesto, and a few sweet chestnuts, and a good thatch of rocket. i ate it slowly, relishing the luxury of the pre-lunch crush at earl canteen (yes, it is possible, if you get there at 11.30am). there was no line forming at the counter, and nobody hungrily eyeing my spot along the polished concrete slab.

so i sipped at my hot chocolate — crowned with a smattering of solid chocolate chunklets, turned another page in my magazine, and asked for a rose macaron from the tidy rows in the glass case. it arrived swiftly on an adorable little metal dish, and when i thanked the waiter, he replied like he really meant it, “my pleasure”.

but the pleasure was mine. though small, the macaron was perfectly formed, and heavy with its delicately scented buttercream filling. it doesn’t look like a lot of filling in the picture, but once i bit into it i found it had pushed its buttery, creamy way into the surface of the biscuits, oh yeshh. from my stool i eyed off the salted caramel chocolate tart, and contemplated a takeaway black sesame macaron, but i figured i should leave a reason for a revisit sooner rather than later.

(in the interest of full disclosure, i feel i must tell you that just over an hour later i was having second dessert — a well-executed eclair — at the shiny brunetti outlet at myer, to celebrate finding the almost perfect pair of boots for winter.)

all this gallivanting around the city: early lunches, second desserts, boot shopping… it reads like i’ve fashioned a life of leisure for myself in melbourne, no? the sad truth is that most days in the four months i’ve been here are spent at the computer pushing words and pictures around a page as the little oil heater by my side labours towards cultivating an electricity bill whose arrival in the mail i’m dreading. still, i’ve somehow managed to sample macarons from all corners of the city, and there were times in the last month, as i juggled projects for five different clients, where i felt useful, and alive, dammit!

all in all, it’s been pretty good. and how are you?

posted by ragingyoghurt on 20 May 2011 at 1:58 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, lunch

we find ourselves, quite regularly these days, at azuma patisserie in the belly of regent place in the city. a $2.50 takeaway cup of maccha froyo — light, milky and above all, surprisingly tangy — is just the antidote to being a little bit sticky and rumpled after walking about the muggy city. or the perfect dessert after any manner of chinatown dinner. it tastes so healthy! (although i’m sure, despite all its benefits handwritten on the chalkboard menu, it is only deceptively so.)

one evening we ate in, and put together a dessert degustation of our own. a twist of frozen yoghurt, a pair of macarons — blackcurrant and pistachio (somewhat sweeter and soggier than they needed to be), and a mini maccha ganache tart. within the sturdy tart shell, the rich and intensely green filling (in flavour as well as colour) had a pleasing — almost diabolical — bitter twinge, but i am sorry to say the kid was completely happy to eat her entire half-share.

midweek just past, we sought refuge from the summertime out on the streets, but it turned out the cafe was even more stifling. the ovens, you see, disgorging an array of chiffon cakes. the maccha latte will just have to wait, perhaps for a freakishly unseasonable cold snap come january.

instead, i picked the white peach mousse with white wine jelly from the counter display. how the jelly glistened like shards of broken glass! it was a very grown-up dessert, with a surprising depth of flavour to the delicate jelly (and quite an alcoholic punch for this non-drinker) contrasting with the considerably milder, somewhat overly aerated peach mousse. at its heart was a hidden pocket of peach gel. it was pleasing all round.

the kid was similarly pleased (perhaps more so) with her eat-in cup of yoghurt, this time a mixed swirl of plain and green tea, with a topping of milk and white chocolate flakes. it cost a dollar more for the pretty ceramic cup (slightly larger than the takeaway tub), and then a dollar on top of that for the sprinkles, but i begrudge it nothing. next time, i might have to order one for myself.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 27 November 2010 at 10:24 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake

i’m getting that feeling now, of having to cram the sydney experience into the short time left we have in this fair city. in the last four months, for example, we have been to the maltese cafe on crown street, thrice. that’s a lot of pastizzi.

i should perhaps have introduced the kid to this hallowed bastion of crunchy little pastries a little earlier. i used to come here back in the 90s, when i laid out pop magazines up the street, and the whole artroom would break out at lunchtime and split a plate of pastizzi. good times.

it’s nice sitting here, in this slightly shabby room, with an assortment of savoury (and sweet) pastries before you. it will please you to note that the china is heavy and, crucially, mismatched.

15 years ago, the pastizzi were 30 or 40c a piece, and you could feed three hungry flying monkeys for just over $5. now, one pastizz will set you back $1.50. no matter. the decor is still mostly 15-years-ago, and besides what can you get for a dollar-fiddy these days?

on her first visit, the kid was surprised to find that the mushrooms in the chicken and mushroom pastizzi were distinctly inoffensive. by her third visit, it was her standard order.

i do like the cheese and spinach pastizzi, with its light and slightly tangy filling, and i’ve also been reacquainting myself with the stodgy delight of the pea pastizzi, stuffed with the best murky-green tinned mushy peas. all the more delicious dipped into the intense tomato sauce (remember? you used to be able to order “a bit” of sauce, or “a bowl”.)

the apple pastizzi, filled with sweet stewed apples and sprinkled in sugar, is a treat in itself, but on our outings the kid understands it is to be eaten for dessert, only after she is finished with the meaty one.

we ordered a couple of ricotta and blueberry ones the first time round, but it was rather heavier on ricotta than it need to be (and consequently, somewhat lighter on the berries).

the pastries are always hot, and if you are lucky enough to have it straight out of the oven, the friendly man behind the counter will caution you that it is especially hot. oh, delicious crunchy flaky pastry.

the last time we were there, this saturday past, the kid said, “i LOVE this place. i think that we cannot move to melbourne anymore.” i know exactly what she means. round the corner, some well-stenciled graffiti reminds me why coming to surry hills feels a little bit like home.

and the sydney experience continues. the maltese cafe is just far enough away from gelato messina that the stroll down oxford street then victoria street will make it possible to have a delightful second dessert (or y’know just dessert if you were sensible enough not to have apple pastizzi at lunchtime).

last saturday there were so many new flavours that i had to have a three-scoop cup just to feel like i wasn’t missing out. in case this ended up being the last time i got to come to messina (probably not though), i finally indulged my fond memory of the coconut-lychee gelato. it was just as wonderful as i remembered.

i had a small taste of the sprightly and refreshing pink grapefruit and aperol sorbet — “hello sailor!”, it was called — but decided that i’d have to have the peach and amaretti. oh! it was peachy, and studded with crunchy chunks of crumbled biscuits.

a scoop of rosewater and almond praline gelato in the most agreeable shade of pink rounded out the selection. the delicate hue echoed the very faint flavour of rose, which seemed overshadowed by the aggressively crunchy candied almonds.

the kid had her own yoghurt and berry cone, and nursed it by the plate glass window in the back, utterly fascinated by the freshly churned gelato coming out of the machine in the kitchen. we watched as they dispensed cherry, and then coconut, and then once the coconut was all done, the gelato man came out front to the counter and proferred a cone of it to the kid.

we ambled out then, back into the sun, towards more sydney experience (pumpkin sourdough at infinity, a modest selection of chocolatey treats at kakawa, and then a stroll through hyde park for a gander at the archibald fountain). the coconut gelato was impossibly smooth and lush.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 26 November 2010 at 11:28 am

permalink | filed under around town, ice cream, kid, lunch, snacks

more pink cake! we found ourselves in newtown on friday afternoon, quite famished, and stopped into black star on our way to an errand. being close to the end of trade, there wasn’t all that much left in the counter. on the counter, however, was a large jar of macarons. such pale, encrusted beauties. when i learnt they were rose and lilac, i was a little bit hesitant, because apart from rose, i am not a fan of floral flavours in food.

i should not have worried. the biscuit was crisp and then chewy, and then all heady rose perfume wrapped up in smooth ganache.

it was so good in fact, that post-errand, even with the sidewalk stools piled up high and the countergirl wiping down the counter for the day, we sweet-talked our way into buying another one.

on saturday, an impromptu and fun excursion with my cousin took a displeasing turn after lunch when we found no cake in the city.

no. cake.

to be precise: we did not want dried-out-from-sitting-in-the-display-case-all-week cake (city center); we did not quite want fancy french moussey gateaux (the rocks); we did not want spongy airline chinatown cake (chinatown). two of us wouldn’t have minded cupcakes, but one of us has an ideological issue with them. so we went our separate ways and in lieu of cake, the kid got her first pair of lace-up shoes: silver all stars.

zoom-zoom.

and we saved the cupcakes for sunday. this is what you get when you rock up to cupcakes on pitt and tell them you don’t need a box for your cupcakes because you are going to eat them right away: a little cardboard cupcake caddy. adorable, no? my zero-packaging plans were derailed, but if i remember to tuck it into my wallet, i will always be ready for a cupcake on the run.

i expect i will always be ready for this raspberry cupcake: moist raspberry cake, and a fat swirl (and then some!) of raspberry buttercream. infinitely pleasing, and gone in four chomps.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 25 August 2010 at 12:24 am

permalink | filed under around town, cake, kid, snacks

so, golly, it was just about a month ago that we were in melbourne. warm-and-sunny-in-the wintertime melbourne, whoulda thunk it. we did such typical school holiday stuff as go the the circus (the amazing circus oz, with no horses or elephants, but wonderful and strong girl-acrobats, and funny and hot — h.o.t. — boy-acrobats, and a rocking live band) and hide out in the tim burton exhibition on the one day it did rain.

first off though, we braved the sunday crowds at the queen victoria markets. i don’t know how i never noticed this before, but in-between the boreks and bratwursts there is a stall — colour of earth — that offers a big range of ready-made pizze. what made the choice even more boggly of mind is the number of different bases available. there were regular bases in white and wholemeal, but then there were a number of gluten-free bases. now, my normal reaction to a gluten-free version of something which is not traditionally gluten-free is to grimace and turn away, however these bases were a rainbow of happy toy colours, corresponding to their flavours: black rice, corn, pumpkin…

i couldn’t go past the beet and meat: hot salami, fetta, capsicum, zucchini and olives on a bright pink beetroot base. they didn’t heat it up for quite long enough in the oven — the center of the bready round was stone cold. however the bits around the sides had developed a pleasing crust around the chewy, slightly mochi-textured interior, and the toppings were generous and fresh.

a couple of days later, we caught the tram to port melbourne, and then made the long trek along the beach to st kilda, just so that we (ok, i ) could get ourselves a kugelhopf from monarch cakes.

they sat in the window, like puppies in a petshop, waiting to be picked. all slightly misshapen in that lovingly handmade way. i picked my cake, and the countergirl weighed it.

“this one’s a bit heavier, because there’s more chocolate inside. is that ok?”

more of that thick, sludgy chocolate wrapped up in chewy, sugar-dusted yeasty cake? well, yes! she rang me up, and that was the week’s breakfast sorted.

one afternoon, we showed up at journal, by the door of the melbourne city library in flinders lane. it was packed to the point of throbbing, and the chatter and clatter of peak lunchtime was more than a little confronting. a harried waiter pointed us to two newly vacated seats at the corner of a large communal table, and then disappeared into the crowd for some 20 minutes before coming back to take our order.

which gave me plenty of time to consider the chalkboard menu. i picked the endive salad, expecting a few leaves on a plate with a dribble of dressing. so i was surprised and pleased when a great mound of shredded endive was delivered, barely concealing many strips of prosciutto, walnuts, and clumps of mildly musty blue cheese. a textural masterpiece! there was even bread, for mopping up the tart dressing.

it was delicious, but i must admit, there was so much of it that towards the end, it almost became boring. almost. nevermind, dessert would surely recalibrate up my palate.

because journal sits within that 10-metre city block of tasty treats, all we had to do was go round the corner, and buy ourselves a little cupcake each, from little cupcakes.

i had the bite-sized pistachio cupcake: moist, nutty cake with exquisitely piped frosting, and a gem of a pistachio placed just so. perhaps next time i’ll be having the large pistachio cupcake.

and then yes, the drizzle kicked in, and we hightailed it to the bowels of the australian centre for the moving image, where we admired the very large and very strange body of work that tim burton had created since even before he went to art school. drawings and models and costumes and statues, and clips of edward scissorhands and alice in wonderland, and a perplexing japanese-slash-new wave version of hansel and gretel that the kid quite enjoyed.

(though i suspect her favourite part was actually the back room with the low tables and pots of textas where ordinary folk like us could sit and draw their own monster outcasts.)

the exhibition goes until mid-october, and i’m recommending it if you like tim burton, or strangeness, and monsters, and drawing.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 12 August 2010 at 11:48 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, lunch, trip

it’s been quiet ’round here, i know. well, not so much literally: we’re currently a week into school holidays, so it’s round-the-clock chatter (and singing, and shrieking) from at least one of us. the other of us has been afflicted with the endless lurgy, and then somewhere in there, halfway through the course of yummy yellow-brown antibiotics, i started laying out a textbook on managing blood-thinning medication. 300-odd pages of text and tables and fun diagrams with lots of arrows. lots.

i am less than halfway through, and it may turn out to be 400 pages after all.

i can’t work during the day, so instead we do school holiday things like wake up at 9.30, and eat brioche and apricot jam, and go to the art gallery, or see children’s theatre… this afternoon we walked through misty drizzle to see mr freezy down at the sydney theatre company, in which a high-octane tale of an ice cream scoop unfolds, as does a great mess of flour and sprinkles and jelly babies and drinking straws, and a chocolate-iced donut is thrown into the audience.

afterwards i had a hankering for an eton mess and tried in vain to find the fratelli fresh down by the pier so that we could go to sopra — does anyone know where exactly it is? but anyway, the rain kicked in a couple more notches and sent us scurrying back into the city, where, oh hey! central baking depot.

moments after we plonked our umbrellas in the bucket by the door, the skies broke open. but we didn’t care — i had just enough cashmoney for two hot chocolates and a slice of blueberry-cinnamon-apple butter cake. the large hot chocolate is only a dollar more than the regular, but twice the size, and fully chocolatey. and just look at that cup — so covetable with its heavy china and gold trim.

on monday, it was too wet to sit outdoors with a pie floater from across the road, but we armed ourselves with BBQ pork buns — the baked kind, with the sticky glaze — from furama cake shop in chinatown, and holed up inside the powerhouse museum for several hours. the fashion week exhibition was good fun, and the 80s exhibition was more sensory overload than trip down memory lane, but it was the interactive batik design simulator which held the kid’s interest for more than fifteen minutes. that and the wonderful school holiday activity inspired by sonya gee‘s historic matchbox project.

$2 bought us an empty matchbox, a seat at the big table, and a steady stream of crafty supplies. the kid set out to make a robot cat, but in the end, it was just a regular cat… with a hidden stash of jewels in her slide-out belly. (it’s on until 18 july, if yer interested.)

and in-between? there’ve been rides on the flying fox in victoria park, a mid-week dimsum feast with grandparents, two loads of laundry in the face of the rain, and a little bit of a thrill to finally read myself in print (PAN magazine, last seen at magnation in newtown). also, i’ve been trying to see how best to get any work done during school holidays, but my shortlived experiment involving working until 2am has proved to be unsustainable, with me stumbling somewhat dizzy and nauseated through the rocks today, after just three late nights.

saturday morning, we’re headed to melbourne for week 2 of the holidays. i wonder how many pages of book layout i can squeeze in before then.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 9 July 2010 at 1:33 am

permalink | filed under around town, art, chocolate, kid, werk

more infirmary pudding.

i was in surry hills yesterday, to say goodbye to an old friend. well, ok, to be exact i was in east redfern, to divest myself of the flat i used to live in. i have not been inside my old building for about five years, but it was scrubbed clean and filled with diffused morning light, and i missed it afresh. an oldish lady from cremorne bought it, with the slightest twitch of her paddle. she wore a hot pink cardigan with mother-of-pearl buttons; the topmost one was in the shape of a star.

after papers were signed, i had a celebratory rawa paneer dosai at maya on cleveland street, and a post-lunch stroll down memory lane, which in this case was quite literally bourke street, surry hills. we popped into christopher’s cake shop, where the kid picked lemon and strawberry shortbreads, and i picked a half dozen aniseed rusks and this majestic tub of caramel fresh cream.

we walked through the city and rode the bus home, and some time later i found myself afflicted with the most terrible headache — that kind of radiating pain that reaches from the top of your head back down to the base of your neck. my sinuses played along to the beat. was this miagraine or meningitis, i wondered, before taking two tabs of paracetemol and settling down to wait it out.

when the pain subsided, i sat up in bed with a copy of “the new yorker” and my little pudding. it consisted of caramel-tinged whipped cream, two layers of light-as-air sponge, and a crown akin to liquid amber — look how it glows! the scent of burnt sugar from this smooth and sticky caramel was strong, but the taste surprisingly tangy. it was a pleasing treat, much like the no-chewing-necessary airline desserts you used to get before they started serving commercial ice cream bars after lunch service.

of course, it would have been even more pleasing if there’d been a trifle more cream.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 27 June 2010 at 9:18 am

permalink | filed under around town, cake

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