The likeable hipster bar
Kerbside – Constance St
7/10
[You’ll notice that the images in this review are waaaay above my usual standard. This is because I’m not the one shooting: instead, we had Tracy from Itty Bitty Bites join us and apply her prodigious photographic talents to the task.]
Brisbane’s swift transition from cultural dungeon to Fairly Cool Place has lead to a great flourishing of hipsters. Beyond the city limits the ‘short-shorts-n-mullet’ look remains a steady favourite, but the legions of Instagram fill our inner suburbs – especially the craft beer places. I contend that The End may be the hipster mothership, given that it’s the only place I’ve seen a dude wear a cape without any sense of irony.
Kerbside comes a close second in the Brisbane hipster stakes. On Friday nights, it’s like cape guy laid eggs and started a new hive. Even Brew isn’t this hip, or crowded. The entire warehouse that is Kerbside swarms with vintage-clothed dudes with pioneer beards sitting on scavenged garden furniture, ironically enjoying gangsta rap. The bar is made of doors, and the bathrooms are full of cutesy street art.
“Man, that synth hook is so danceable”
You’d think that the picture I’m painting is of an Indisputably Bad Place, but this isn’t a negative review. I stay the hell away from Kerbside on the busiest nights, but anyone who is prepared to use their elbows and ignore the occasional smug glance will get by just fine. Behind the bar are the two reasons that I highly recommend you brave the locals and visit Kerbside: the beer selection, and the bar staff.
Kerbside’s owner really understands beer, and so do his staff. The selection is excellent, and makes quite an eyeful in the tall cabinet fridges. It’s fun to pick beer visually. If your tastes are more mainstream, they also do commercial lagers which get cheaper during the generous weekend happy hour. Finally, if you’re into tap beers, you can choose from three local ales from our local craft beer superhero, Bacchus Breweries. The brewer, Ross, is beer’s own version of Batman, sans hoarse voice and butler. Do bring a fat wallet to this place if you’re visiting outside happy hour and like craft beer – stubbies seem to all sit in the region of $10-$14. That said, many of these rather expensive beers are over 7% alcohol, so you don’t need to drink many before you utterly lose your dignity and make some bad internet purchases.
Case in point. (via latfh)
The second big drawcard is the people behind the bar. No, not like that – just, they’re really good at what they do. Kerbside’s big on cocktails, but it doesn’t have a cocktail list. You just kinda tell them what you like, and they make it. You can be as specific (‘vodka martini with two strawberries’) or vague (‘uh, clear spirit, fruity’) as you like, and they generally come out really well. The Mistress is a devourer of cocktails and reckons they got five in a row right one time (although a marmalade-flavoured thing eventually broke the streak). Here are some of Tracy’s shots of the cocktails in construction…
Don’t go for the food. It’s pub grub, and pretty expensive and bland even by pub standards. I never imagined I could be disappointed by deep-fried camembert, but even while hungry and drunk the dish let me down by being a bit flavourless. I’d suggest grabbing a meal at Guzman y Gomez or Mecca Bah before checking out Kerbside if you’re hungry.
Wednesday was the right time for us to come through, as we got plenty of tasty beer and cocktails without the queues or social annoyances. Kerbside is a great place for a delicious midweek drink, particularly because it’s set apart from most of the filth and horror of Fortitude Valley. Arrive cashed up and full-bellied. Once the weekend arrives, arrive early and be prepared for drunkenness, crowds and DJs – but if that’s your thing, this is exactly where you want to be.
EHRMAGERD KEHRBSURRRRD (via lafth)
“It only looks like drugs mate”
Does ‘purple drank’ or ‘sizzurp’ mean anything to you? It means something to this guy.
Mixing cough syrup with mountain dew results in a purple fluid, and a very weird way of gettin’ high. Apparently it’s big if you’re into hip hop, live near Texas and like drooling on yourself as you slip into a waking coma. If you’re not keen on any of those things, don’t fret: we have our own version of purple drank now. Behold, Mother: Frosty Berry flavour.
The resemblance of the logo to some kind of Crusty Demons poster is significant. Unlike purple drank Texan-style, this purple shit has enough caffeine in it to make you want to get naked and chew on somebody’s face, while doing burnouts and fishtails. In a space shuttle.
If that sounds like fun, you must be wondering: does it actually taste good? I think so, but what would a true beer (or wine) snob say?
“It pours lurid purple with a lilac, frothy head that fades quickly. The nose presents strong, flat notes of warm grape jelly. On the palate the mouthfeel is surprisingly soft and buttery, but resolves quickly to fresh factory fruits and food acid. The finish is dry, with a full and lingering jelly aroma and hints of aluminium, typical of this varietal’s North Parramatta terroir”
Essentially, this is the Fanta Grape of the energy drink market. Sweeter than normal Mother, Red Bull or V, but with a weird fruitiness that reminds me of the cheapest lollies at the school tuckshop. I really appreciate the lower acidity of this drink, and if the local kwik-e-mart is out of Rock Star and Boca Lupo, this is a safe plan C for you energy junkies out there.
No comment on whether it’s good with cough syrup…
Café Auchenflower
97 Haig rd
7/10
Walking down a leafy street to get a breakfast made by people that love their work is infinitely preferable to driving in traffic to Westfield to eat some hideous slurry from a culinary graveyard like Shingle Inn or Coffee Club.
This is why I love the way that hip little breakfast spots are cropping up in the ‘burbs – they may all be kinda playing from the same songbook of ‘cute and wholesome and vintagey’ but they do it pretty well, and it’s a much-needed change. Today I checked out the shiny-new Café Auchenflower, and concluded that every few blocks in suburbia needs a place like this.
After a long hard look at the rather sparse menu, I went out on a limb and risked my first ‘bolognaise on toast’ lunch item for brekkie. I’ve seen a few menus offer this and always thought it a bit daggy. Mince on toast from yesterday’s spag bol is classic bachelor chow in my books. Maybe it was the tag of ‘gran’s secret recipe’ helped me shed my prejudices, and I’m glad I did. The addition of a basil leaf and quality sourdough helped decouple this dish from my memories of single living, instead reminding me of how comforting this dish can be. Although filling and tasty, I found nana’s recipe a bit on the sweet side and lacking in onion, but I recognise that tastes can really differ on bolognaise recipes.
The mistress opted for something a bit more erudite: prosciutto, basil and fontina cheese with fig, in a toasted sandwich. It tasted awesome – the flavours were wildly complimentary, and the textures worked together too. The Auchenflower certainly knows how to toast stuff to perfection. The mistress found that a bit of tomato or greenery might’ve helped balance the saltiness of the dish, though I thought the fig did a lot of that. A bit of rocket or even a touch more basil would’ve taken this one from ‘good’ to ‘exceptional’ for me.
I dig this place, and it’s not even for the food. They impressed me, but I wasn’t blown away; the ingredients were good quality and well-composed, but lacked the ‘wow factor’ that Brisbane’s best can offer. The coffee (supplied by West End roasters, BlackStar) was satisfying, but not memorable. In spite of this, I left smiling, and realised that decent food and coffee are not the only drawcard here. As Dennis Denuto said, ‘it’s the vibe of the thing’. Pleasant décor, happy owner-managers and the novel experience of finding something to do in backstreet suburbia make this an ideal spot for catching up with mates on the west side, or a lazy late breakfast on hungover weekends.
Guest review: cocktails at Alfred and Constance
[Last weekend, an upcoming bar/restaurant place called Alfred and Constance fed my awesome friend Nhi a whole lot of delicious cocktails and she wrote a fantastic review for us. I loved it, hope you do too. Enjoy!]
‘Tiki Bar’ – the very words don’t conjure good thoughts. Not once have I woken up and thought, “Today’s the day I’m going to sit under a cheap straw hut and drink cocktails with tiny umbrellas that are more wasteful than decorative, surrounded by fake wood mask carvings and furniture from Bali at Home.”
Putting aside the fact that there are probably few people who do have these thoughts, it was with these not very positive impressions that I headed to a preview cocktail tasting for Alfred and Constance, a new bar from the team behind Limes set to open in August. Currently under construction next to Limes (aptly on the corner of Alfred and Constance streets), the bar promises to be a one-stop-shop for food and drink. There’ll be a gastro bar with a wood fired oven (to roast whole animals, no less), milk bar, beer garden with more than 30 beers on tap, dessert café, underground wine cellar and yes, a tiki bar. The tiki bar is where the fun, dancing and grass-skirt shaking will happen.
Disclaimer: I have never actually been to a tiki bar – but for good (maybe ill-informed) reason. I know they’re inspired by Polynesian culture and the more kitsch and fun, the better. I’m a big fan of kitsch. But to me, like tribal tattoos on a white guy, they offend rather than romanticise Polynesian culture. At the preview (held at Limes) we were offered to taste six cocktails set to be on the tiki bar menu – I wondered if a tipple would help change my mind.
First up was the classic (trite?) pina colada. Served in a half-pineapple, it was quite frothy and not as sweet and ‘coconut-y’ as pina coladas I’ve tried before. My Plus One agreed and we were both disappointed when our second pina colada came out much the same, in addition to being unpleasantly lukewarm. The head bartender used fresh pineapple juice rather than (usually very sweet) bottled juice – always a plus in my books, but perhaps this crop wasn’t as sweet as it should have been.
My Plus One told me that a popular tiki bar in London called Mahiki serves their pina coladas in whole pineapples. Alfred and Constance need to lift their kitsch-game if they want to play with the best! And it may be this monstrosity that’ll get them there:
Behold the kava bowl cocktail, a drink to be shared between four or five people. I say monstrosity in a good way – who doesn’t love absurdly over-sized things? Served in a ‘volcano bowl’, the cocktail includes rum, house made almond syrup, grenadine and citrus juices (the absence of actual kava didn’t go unnoticed). An extra shot of rum in a half-lime balanced on the volcano bowl’s crater and, when set alight and sprinkled with fresh cinnamon, delightfully replicated a lava explosion. [Ed- be glad it doesn’t have kava in it. Kava tastes like detergent mixed through ditch-water].
The cocktail itself was refreshing, cordial-like and scarily easy to drink thanks to the sweetness from the grenadine and juices. I was starting to understand why those Full Moon Party buckets in Thailand are so popular – drinking from communal bowls is fun.
Heck, even the whole concept of tiki bars was beginning to grow on me. The bartenders and staff at Alfred and Constance showed a genuine passion for all things tiki and cocktails, and this definitely rubbed off – the remaining cocktails we tasted were excellent. They had done their research, seeking out tiki bars around the world, and demonstrated a thorough knowledge of its history. Sure, a white guy invented them and they’re super tacky – but maybe tiki bars are not meant to offend, but rather pay homage, to the culture of our Polynesian neighbours.
Alex Lotersztain, Queensland’s current darling of the design industry, will be doing the interiors of Alfred and Constance. Given that he designed Limes Hotel and a bunch of cool things around Brisbane you never knew you knew, I’m certain he’ll bring a level of taste and maybe even elegance to Brisbane’s first tiki bar.
Alfred and Constance is sure to get everyone excited about at least one of their diverse offerings. With such an eclectic mix, they do run the risk of being a confused jumble of everything, rather than targeting a niche group of patrons. But I’m not too worried – Alfred and Constance’s great reputation precedes them and with a bunch of big restaurant heavyweights behind them (including E’cco Bistro’s chef and Jocelyn Hancock of Jocelyn’s Provisions) they’re sure to add an interesting dimension to Brisbane’s bar and restaurant scene.
Alfred and Constance opens mid-July.
The Chelsea: Brisbane’s best brekkie?
The Chelsea (at the Barracks, Roma st)
9/10
Muesli, I love you but you’re fired. Cold weather demands hot, calorific goodness, especially at breakfast. Relatedly, Sunday was fucking cold.
The result:
Roasted tomato, basil, feta, haloumi
Coriander scrambled eggs, cornbread, chorizo, cumin sauce
This was even more awesome than it looks. In fact, it was borderline erotic. The addition of a side of haloumi to the most perfectly herbed roast tomatoes was a masterstroke that you should totally emulate. It had that charcoal-grilled taste, very rare but amazingly well-done (pun not intended). The feta also now haunts my dreams with its soft creaminess. The coriander scrambled eggs with chorizo were a bit more psychedelic, but in a good way – the mix of cumin, coriander and chorizo had me tasting the rainbow and smelling the universe. Although, maybe part of the wonder of the experience was, well, relief…
The slight downside of our visit was how that adjectival cold weather really nailed us. The Barracks is a bit of a wind tunnel and while dining on the street is usually good times, it’s just hit that point where waiting an hour for breakfast is painful unless you’ve brought a good jacket. The wind is strong enough that it made the heaters useless. I think they were short-staffed too, so things took quite a while to come out. In between my epic breakfast chats and shivering, I failed to notice this:
Yep, a pile of fuzzy warm blankets for diners to use. Keep an eye out for these.
My recommendation is simple: DO go to this place and receive your sensual breakfast reward, but remember to grab a jacket, and your most interesting friend(s). The wait pays off bigtime; this is quite possibly Brisbane’s best breakfast this side of a Smokey Breakfast Lager.
Cocktail showdown: Laneway vs Super Whatnot
I keep a list at the back of my mind of things that I won’t even TRY cooking at home. ‘Sashimi (fugu)’ tops the list, followed by ‘sashimi (normal)’ and ‘croissants’. I recently added ‘cocktails’ to the list, after an enraging series of failures to get even a basic mojito right – much to the detriment of my duty-free stash of oversized bottles of spirits. I don’t try making cocktails because they’re very hard to do well. Thing is, I can’t make ’em, but nor can half the supposed cocktail barmen I’ve ordered from here in Brisvegas. Getting a cocktail just right requires a lot of skill in balancing complementary flavours, and I only know a couple of places in town (like Bowery) that you can reliably get a good cocktail irrespective of what and when you order.
Thus, I was interested – and a bit apprehensive – when I heard that both Super Whatnot and Laneway had released new winter cocktail menus recently. I love good bars like a one-eyed cat loves its kittens, and I so wanted these two to get it right. Winter’s a great reason to come up with new ways to get drunk, and I’ve already seen mixed results in the beer scene, with Stone and Wood pushing their very hyped, very average ‘Jasper Ale’, and Two Birds releasing a vastly superior ‘Sunset Ale’ just in time for the chilly weather. Those two releases had a clear winner, but I wondered: which of the new menus would be better in the cocktail scene?
In these situations, the only sensible thing to do is put as much of each menu in your belly as you can handle, and let them fight it out. So I did.
I started with Super Whatnot, ordering what looked to be their most interesting menu item – the ‘Cobianchi Treacle’. $20 gets you a mix of rum and two kinds of bitters, mixed through a spiced pineapple reduction. I really should’ve taken a hint from the name…
Cobianchi treacle is served in a glass like the kind that your parents got as a wedding present, which is still around thirty years later both because of its sheer battleship-like construction and your mum’s propensity to actively hide it when guests come around. This also describes the vibe of the cocktail – formidable and about three generations back in flavour. It’s a dad-tastic mix that leads with rich, treacly sugariness but offers no acidity or lightness to ease things up a bit. Instead it continues into a mix of spice and marmalade, and finishes thus, leaving the drinker feeling like they have had had, in our dear departed Kevin07’s words, a fair suck of the syrup bottle. Or something.
I finished the drink slowly, feeling like SW had brought a rusty shiv to a culinary shotgun fight. This saddened me: not only is this an awesome bar, their bathrooms are, like, the best thing in at least Queensland. LOOK AT THIS CRAZY SINK.
I left, wallet hurting, vowing to return and cough up for the next best thing on the list.
I scurried onward to Laneway (linked to culinary heavyweights Urbane and the pleasant Euro bar), which was kind enough to treat me to a sampling of their new menu. Mysteriously, they decided to theme their range around train stations in Brisbane. I’m baffled. Trains are awesome, and they let me get around and drink far more delicious things every night than cars ever did, but they are the LEAST SEXY THING. Here is an actual train station; note the quality art and sensual signage.
Fortuately they do make rail travel feel cooler than it actually is in their smartly-designed menu. The cocktails are quite memorable, albeit definitely not designed to please the daquiri crowd. I sampled three and was happy with two, and respectfully fearful of the other, mainly because of its maritime sparseness and potent abundance of Plymouth Gin. The ‘Eagle Junction’ is a Gimlet-style cocktail, which means it’s essentially a mix of gin and cordial. I’m told this relatively old style of cocktail was traditionally taken by naval officers to ward off scurvy. The use of in-house pineapple and sage cordial certainly makes things interesting, but with the only other ingredient being (abundant) gin, this drop is a rough lover that will kiss you with walrus-like captain’s bristles before handing you the edible flower that nestles at the bottom of each glass. Not quite my thing, but its companions ‘Windsor’ and ‘Ferny Grove’ had far more depth and subtlety.
‘Windsor’ sparkles like sherbet on the lips before blossoming into elderflower on the palate, and finishes like a good home-made lemonade. Complex stuff, and very drinkable. I don’t recall similar experiences at Windsor station though. Ferny Grove was perhaps the most interesting – a ‘Terra Rossa’ cocktail that is apparently bottled. It smells like peaches but is only very subtly fruity and sparkling; the finish is extremely dry and earthy, almost like the smell of raw cinnamon. Must be the Quandong liquer.
I left Laneway feeling happy that most punters would find something on the list to enjoy, at least after a couple of hits and misses. It was time to hit up Super Whatnot again, and hope that round two would be a bit less of a grandpa experience. The ‘Smokin’ Paloma’ jumped out at me, promising a very creative twist on the traditional paloma – they use smoked salt, as well as orange liquer and grapefruit juice in addition to the usual lime and tequila.
This was just the ending to my night that I needed – it had bite, the salt worked well and the addition of complex citrus didn’t disappoint. It’s quite likely that this will beat any margarita you’ve ever sampled, but not because it’s flashy – the salt’s smokiness is very subtle and while the citrus goes down a treat, it doesn’t blow you away with novelty. Instead it’s just a solid, well-balanced cocktail that you won’t regret purchasing.
If you like new and clever things, go for Laneway’s menu – you might struggle through some of the drinks, but you won’t be bored. For me, they were the night’s winner, and definitely worth the trek down Mary street.
With that said, if you like safe and delicious things, go for Super Whatnot, but give serious thought to the (awesome) beer taps unless you’re a hardcore cocktail fundi, and remember: if a drink says ‘treacle’, know that they mean it.
Charity can be delicious
Did you see this?
The Kony 2012 campaign got me thinking about the small and sometimes ridiculous things we do in order to try and solve rather earnest global problems. Generally, eating delicious meals as an attempt at saving the world is about as effective as retweeting Stephen Fry when he heckles a homophobe, or petitioning Gina Rinehart to stop messing with our media.
Fortunately, I found an exception: eating delicious food when raising money for a charity. Eight of Brissie’s best chefs are giving up their time on June 16 to put on a 4-course dinner where the profits go to Variety, a charity that helps families take care of desparately sick kids with unusual maladies. When I say top chefs, I do mean it too – a number of these guys won awards in the recent Good Food Guide Awards. As a bonus, Peter Marchant will be selecting wines and generally truffling around in his charismatic way.
I got a chance to preview this dinner today; whether you’re feeling like eating charitably with all eight of these gurus or just checking out individual chefs down the track, this article will help give a sense of what you can expect from each of these elites.
Entrees
Hajime Horiguchi – Wasabi Noosa – Sugi smoked ocean trout, micro herbs, umeboshi dressing and Tasmanian Wasabi
Jeremy Clark – Hilton Brisbane – Sous vide spanner crab, fennel and citrus salad
Surprisingly the generous array of entrees were a bit more Delta Goodrem than Jimi Hendrix – not the standard you’d expect from the rockstar lineup. Admittedly, they were pretty hungover and cooking for a pack of media hacks for free, so I’m prepared to give the benefit of the doubt on these dishes. I do things badly while hungover all the time, and these dishes weren’t even bad, just a few steps short of elite.
Paul McGivern – The Jetty South Bank – Ballotine of Rannoch farm quail, poached grapes, parsnip puree
Kym Machin – Spring – Chawanmushi (Noosa spanner crab, kingfish, flying fish roe and quinoa)
Mains
The mains stepped up the game nicely. Tony Kelly provided a memorable take on roast pork – that there is a crispy pig’s tail.
Tony Kelly – Stokehouse Brisbane – Twice cooked pork, crispy pig’s tail, smoked potato puree, apple jam, sauce charcuterie
The beef main was a beautiful cut and perfectly tender; you can see why Adrian is an advocate of sustainable beef from healthy, happy cattle. My philistine palate didn’t need the salsa but it did give a bit of texture and depth to the dish.
Adrian Richardson – La Luna Bistro, Melbourne – Grassfeed rib of beef, braised, corn, avocado, tomato salsa
Dessert
These dishes were as delectable as they look. This was a highlight, although that might reflect the timing of the tasting (roughly noon, and on scant breakfast for me). In addition to tasting good, the chef himself (Alistair Mcleod) is quite a character, injecting all kinds of loudness and mirth to the experience. It excites me to think that the kitchen will have microphones in it… if there’s going to be fireworks in the kitchen, it’ll be this guy that delivers.
Alastair McLeod – Tank Restaurant and Brett’s Wharf – Bundaberg strawberry Cranachan, yoghurt Chantilly, bushmills
The brownie was a nice finisher; David Pugh is as earnest about chocolate as he is about charity. The use of citrus to balance the rich brownies was superb.
David Pugh – Restaurant Two – Chocolate and beetroot brownie, pear sorbet, licorice cocoa crumb, ganache
Having sampled the range and felt the ‘vibe’ of the chefs and their meals, I get the feeling this would be a very enjoyable night out, and a fun way of giving to the needy. Of course, if you can’t stump up the $225 by June 16th, you could always, well, ‘like’ this blog instead.
Mikkeller 1000IBU: Strong Medicine
Mikeller 1000IBU (beer)
Unrated: novelty value only
Mikkeller – Denmark’s ‘gypsy brewer’ – is famed for a number of things, but his achievement of making what is supposedly the world’s hoppiest beer is now seared into my memory. And palate.
With a theoretical rating of 1000 International Bitterness Units (IBUs), Mikkeller 1000 IBU has a reputation that makes it irresistable, in the same way that a dangerous mountain or really spicy food is alluring because of the challenge it promises. I like hops, even very strong double IPAs, so I scurried down to The Scratch in excitement, like a moth attracted to a fiery green hop-lamp. Needless to say, I got burnt.
I’ll let the photos describe the experience for you.
It looked like this:
And I was like:
Because it tasted like:
I guess sometimes memorable accomplishments aren’t always pleasant. Having guzzled almost half a litre of this stuff, I feel like I have more hops in me than the average brewery.
Much like Rex Attitude, this an a beer for extremophiles. Try it once, at the end of a session, and savour the craziness even as your palate dries and your eyes start to water. Don’t even think about trying to enjoy anything afterwards.
BONUS FACT: This was the 4.9% ‘lite’ version. Apparently they do a 9% one which is inexplicably named ‘ultramate’.
Maaaaate.
First look: Underbelly (the bar)
** Editor’s note – Underbelly has sadly, er, gone under since the publication of this post.
Underbelly –371 Queen st, Brisbane (under the Tank Hotel)
It’s probably a bit early to pass final judgement on Brisbane’s newest craft beer joint – the paint is literally still drying on the walls – but here are some first images if you didn’t make it opening night.
How was it, you ask? My first impression of this place is that it’s got a superb selection and friendly service, but falls down a bit on the ambience side. The name ‘Underbelly’ seems to be a reference the pub’s location in a basement rather than any gangster themes (mercifully).
Drinking in a basement doesn’t offer much in the way of sensory pleasure – it’s rather dark and noisy – but for many, the vast selection of beer and cider will make up for it. There are a few bars in Brisbane where you can get a selection this good and a nice ambience, but these are all suburban spots like The Scratch and Bitter Suite; Underbelly is surely the best place to get rare cider and beer in the city. Within the CBD, Super Whatnot and Brew offer vastly better vibes and a few tasty beers, but their selection has nothing on Underbelly’s giant black menus. With the demand for novel beer rising steadily in this city, I won’t be surprised if the punters are prepared to overlook the racket and lame pop art to access offerings from distant brewers like Mikeller and BrewDog.
At this stage, Underbelly is only open Monday to Friday – I suggest you nip in and have a cheeky midweek brew, and see what you think.
EDIT – chatted to a lass last night who was pretty sure that Underbelly’s art is from IKEA…
Research adventure: beer in Africa
Right, so Australia’s last beer giant (Fosters) got taken over by a South African company recently. Philistine went to Africa to research the invading army, and their beer habits. First, I tried the brews that most the world’s 50-million saffas generally chug on the average weekend, while charring meat on open fires and guturally discussing rugby or soccer (indeed, they are more like us than we imagine).
In spite of the burgeoning craft beer market, these three are still the main contenders. The battle between Castle and Black Label plays out with all the passion of hobos fighting in a parking lot – and about as much skill. Both are typical bulk-brewed domestic lagers designed for heavy drinking rather than flavour; it’d be tricky to discern these from XXXX or Toohey’s New in a blindfolded taste test. Amstel is slightly better, mainly because it tastes entirely different to the Corona-esque dross that is served in clear, Amstel-branded bottles on our shores.
Also popular but a bit more remarkable is Castle Milk Stout – the only other stouts using lactose I’ve ever seen are niche products rather than mass-produced, so it’s quite exciting that this stuff is so popular in townships in South Africa. It tastes pretty damn good, with a pleasant balance of sweet, complex malts and ashiness on the finish.
Milk stout is usually the limit of the interesting stuff you’ll get in most bottle stores; the booming craft beer scene is yet to penetrate the mainstream. However, with only a little hunting, it’s possible to snag all kinds of new material. Most still taste a bit like lager in some way or another, but there are some very interesting contenders emerging. Here’s four that I managed to round up in an afternoon:
This was quite the bro-tastic start to the tasting session: a beer made by the Van Hunks. Their initial club for vintage VW combi vans and bodybuilding eventually hit a rut, until one of them took up homebrewing. This is the result:
OK, not really. ‘Van Hunks’ is actually a Cape Town legend about a farmer that out-smoked the devil. With a name like that you might expect a smoked beer; instead the local Boston Brewery has opted for a truly spicy brew that shows very little pumpkin flavour but plenty of nutmeg and cinnamon. Strange stuff, but it’s very well made and quite drinkable.
‘Bone Crusher’ by Darling Brewery is inspired by the hyena, but unlike a hyena it doesn’t gobble rotting carcasses or leave weird greenish shits all over the bush (seriously, they do this).
Instead, it is one of the most flavourful, balanced white ales (witbiers) that I’ve ever laid lips on. Coriander and orange peel go into this beer, and it’s bottle conditioned. On the nose it’s richly floral, then mildly sour on the palate and finishes with a delicious spiciness. Darling is a tiny, dry country town that is home to South Africa’s own version of Dame Edna. I’m hoping the local brewer has the means to get a few of these to Brisvegas, as I expect they’d sell well among beer snobs and heavy metal fans alike.
Distinctly less refined but also memorable is Robson’s wheat beer, made in Durban. This stuff is the cloudiest, sourest beer I’ve tried in ages, and I’m still not sure if that was the intended result.
It also froths with unholy vigour; I stumbled while holding this beer and the slight bump was enough to turn it into a spouting foam-rocket. The last few mouthfuls of this went into the sink, mainly because they were grey and full of sharp-tasting yeasty gunk. Whether this stuff is the result of brewery infection or a very acquired taste, I was surprised to find something like it in a conservative seaside bottle store.
By contrast, Berne is very pretty – and very sessionable. This is an ‘amber’ lager so it has a bit of malt and toffee on the palate, as well as hints of yeastiness and a lot more carbonation than your average lager. Not a huge jump from the mainstream in flavour here, but it’s carried off well and might get people a bit more interested in craft ales. However, at the princely sum of 24 Rand ($3) for 500ml it’s over twice the price of Castle, commonly served in 750ml ‘quarts’ (don’t say ‘tallie’ in South Africa; it’s a euphemism for ‘penis’). Unlike the Australian market, there really is no price comparison between craft ales and factory stuff for Saffas. Still, the diversity of options is growing rapidly, with cool breweries operating all over the country.
One last thing: craft beer in Malawi is hilariously behind the Saffa scene – or way ahead, depending on how you look at it. Beer fanatics will be fascinated to read about the soupy millet weirdness that is ‘Chibuku Shake Shake’, but I’ll leave that tale to Canadian bloggess, Nina Lex.
Philistine is back in Oz next week, possibly to write some abuse about the increasing prevalence of mounted deer heads in bars.
Also – a very special St Patrick’s Day beer…
How many of you are likely to drink some green beer this weekend? This one only features at The Scratch and the secret ingredient is pretty damn interesting. Also, it involves no colourant – it’s pale green, naturally. Tweet me if you think you’ve got this one figured out.
A fate better than death. Much better, really.
The Hideaway – 7.5/10
When you die, supposedly you see a long dark tunnel with a light at the end of it. That theory is probably bogus, but you need not miss out. Fortitude Valley now can offer a similar experience in real life.
Walking down the seedy end of Brunswick Street is a bit like dying. The numerous $1 peep show joints and urine-stained sleepouts are really grim places – but as of late last year there is a light at the end of this rather dark walkway. That light is The Hideaway.
Go towards the light.
The rewards of venturing into the valley’s grubby end are huge. The Hideaway is a café by day, bar by night and it has a pretty unique look; imagine a funk musician decided to renovate your granny’s lounge but kept the furniture, and you’re getting close. You’ll quickly forget Brunswick’s harsher realities in this setting, with a combination of friendly service, good music and very decent beer to carry you through the night.
Tap beers tend to be local craft brews but the selection in the fridges goes well beyond Queensland – the highlight of my visit was a ‘Torpedo’ IPA from Sierra Nevada brewery in California. The ferocious ‘Red Belly Black’ (Imperial Red Ale, 10%) from Bacchus was almost as good, although it put me firmly in hangover territory by my fourth beer.
I didn’t get to sample the coffee or food on my visit (these are daytime things, I think) but the music is certainly taken pretty seriously here. I visited on the opening night of the ‘resonate’ series, currently hosted by country-goth gurus The Westerlies and featuring a series of skilled musicians over the course of the month. The venue works well for music – the acoustics are decent, and the space is deep enough that those close to the stage can be really absorbed in the music but conversations can continue at the other end of the bar.
A glance at the ‘what’s on’ page reveals that all kinds of entertainment goes on in this place, ranging from blues to ska to soul and even a burlesque show this Friday. For those more interested in food and drink, there are occasional tastings earlier in the week, featuring brewers and home-made snacks. Boredom is apparently not on the menu, whatever day you step into this place; I wouldn’t be surprised to find it really quite busy on standard drinking nights.
The Hideaway may be aptly named but it is really is worthwhile to weave your way past the homeless alcoholics and pregnant strippers to give it a look. If you’re a train commuter, it’s even easier – just hop off at Fortitude Valley station, turn right and avoid eye contact for thirty seconds and you’ve arrived.
(Now, go towards the light.)
Super Whatnot
Super Whatnot – 48 Burnett Lane, Brisbane
8/10
Two of my favourite things in this city are, surprisingly, related to bits of government legislation. No, really. The emergence of the Small Bars license and the council’s Vibrant Laneways Program are doing all kinds of great things right now. Critics sneer and whinge that this amounts to some kind of Melbournisation of our city. I suspect Melbourne didn’t invent laneways or small bars, and even if they did, they’re a great invention and their growth in Brisbane is fantastic – and I have proof.
Super Whatnot is the beautiful progeny of two juicy bits of burueacratic goodness; an excellent small bar, hidden in a laneway. Also, it serves the majestic beers of Ross Kenrick (Bacchus Brewing co.) on tap, and is run by a dude who, if he did have a superpower, would choose to be able to shoot clouds out of his hands. Needless to say, Super Whatnot is an interesting place. The decor is a funky mix of high-quality fittings and exposed masonry, and the range of cocktails and wines seems decent. Here’s an interior shots from the bar’s facebook page.
Food is also pretty special here; the newly-released menu riffs on a roughly mexican theme but pulls in clever ingredients to deliver novelty that makes it quite unlike the stuff you’d expect from Guzman y Gomez or Mad Mex. Portions are small but beautifully presented, and prices are modest so if you’re hungry I recommend getting two meals. That said, there are some relatively rich snacks that could be enough to resolve serious peckishness. The cuban sandwich and fried chicken are particularly incredible dishes; flavours are an exciting mix of crispy saltiness, rich manchego cheese and delicious acidity to balance it out. Some at my table found the cheese a bit too, er, ripe but this wasn’t an issue personally.
Now for the negative. My main grumbles with this spot are the product of its own fame, and will probably pass with time. Like Harajuku Gyoza, it is a bit cursed by its own excellence – crowding becomes an issue here from Thursdays onwards, and the clientele are currently heavily characterised by shrill yuppies in suits. I think the heavy customer load wears on the staff a bit – they’re polite, but also rather haggard and laconic. Definitely no joyous clouds will be shot out of hands until shit calms down in this place.
Last night’s visit really underlined how popular small bars can be, but also how much we need more of them – I stepped into SW at 6pm and couldn’t find a place to sit, and all the taps had already been emptied. With no bottled beers under $9 (and many rising well beyond that), we moved on without touching a drink. Missing out on Cunning Ninja (black IPA, delicious, 10%abv) is quite a painful thing; at least the staff seemed to be handling the situation better than I’ve seen in other establishments.
Minor quibbles aside, I have great faith that as this bar settles into the Brisbane bar scene and the swarms subside a bit, it’s going to endure as one of Brisbane’s best bars. If this is the way of the future, bring it on – I can’t wait ’til we have more bars like this in Brisbane’s burgeoning laneway scene. Judging by the punter response, we certainly need them.
Mundo Churrasco
Mundo Churrasco – 63 McGregor Terrace, Bardon
7/10
I have the meat sweats.
No, that isn’t some kind of dire STI. The meat sweats are a morning-after symptom of eating at Mundo Churrasco, unless you’re particularly restrained. When you have consumed as much flesh as I did last night, every exhalation and every hint of perspiration evokes smoky roasted meat. In the better moments, this is excellent and seems worthy of growing a ferocious beard and sourcing a house of concubines. More often, I shudder faintly and wonder if this is a bit like a meat hangover, or possibly the onset of colon cancer.
Consequences aside, eating at Mundo Churrasco is a excitingly carnivorous experience. The restaurant is styled on a Brazilian BBQ – you pay the flat rate of $38.50, sit at your table, and the waitstaff will start to bring huge hunks of sizzling, freshly barbequed meat over. These are colossal cuts of beef, lamb and pork – a few were bigger than my head. Smaller food items like chicken and spiced pineapple are brought out sometimes too, they help space things out. This goes on until you say stop, or until are literally waddling and small blood vessels are starting to burst in your eyes and nostrils. Guess which option I went with.
The Brazilian barbeque format is unusual. This is the first restaurant where tongs have been a standard item alongside knives and forks – they’re there so you can grab hunks of meat as they’re sliced off their skewer. You also get an ‘indicator’ to show if you want more meat, or are having a break. This eating format has a lot of novelty to it and really delighted a lot of people – there is something quite exciting about the arrival of each skewer, sizzling and bovine and immense. The meat is high quality, the service is friendly and the ‘banquet’ feel is conducive to large parties.
Mundo Churrasco does have a few downsides, mostly related to price and ambience, but these aren’t critical to the dining experience. Booze arrangements aren’t ideal if you’re on a budget; at a rate of nearly $40 just for food, BYO would be great but instead there is a bar which offers a range of pretty standard beers and a few Spanish lagers like Alhambra. These are priced fairly but it is a bit alarming how easy it is to spend over $60 on a meal that feels more like a buffet than haute-cuisine. The meat is quite heavily brine-marinated too, which is generally delicious but could bear a bit of innovation. The sides served with the meat are pretty bland and decor and lighting doesn’t add much to the experience at all, though with the general focus on gorging oneself, this is less of an issue than restaurants where you might take it easy and soak up the ambience.
My verdict is that this isn’t a ‘date’ venue unless your relationship is well-established and you both really, really like meat. I’d favour it more for group dining, particularly if you’ve had an afternoon of modest drinking or heavy exercise. Save your pennies, loosen your belt and check it out, but don’t go for the romance.
Yard trash
Yardbird Ale House – 6/24 Martin St, Fortitude Valley
4/10 – Avoid
At some point, every genuine innovation will be imitated poorly, by someone vastly less competent and sincere. For every Nirvana, a Short Stack must eventually follow. Yard Bird Ale House is surely the Short Stack of Brisbane’s bar scene: ugly, cheap and utterly lacking in any genuine conviction other than a desire to make money.
The craft beer emergence across Brisbane has spawned some exciting new bars in the last few months, but it’s also become a bandwagon. Yard Bird clings to it with transparent desparation that is immediately apparent, and had plenty of visitors annoyed when I came through. They spruik their craft beer credentials, yet offer only a few common brews from big breweries like Little Creatures and Monteiths. The decor is a confused mix of Ed Hardy trash, zombie art and low-budget woodland kitsch, including a tatty stuffed pheasant. A number of staff are rude and incompetent, often at the same time. There’s always a queue at the bar. They can’t even get seating right; when it rained, a number of seats under their haphazard temporary gazebos got soaked, and things got cramped quickly.
Worst of all, Yardbird heavily markets ‘specials’ that conveniently run out of stock just as the day gets going. At 1pm we were told ‘we’re not serving food yet’, even as other visitors were already tucking into meals. By 1:30 food might’ve been an option for our hungry group, but ‘oh, we’ve changed the time for the special, it starts at 3pm now’ and then by 2pm the line was ‘yeah, we’ve run out’, delivered with hostility and a total lack of shame or apology. As this was going on, the promised special continued to flow from the kitchen, even as they turned other guests down and ignored the growing queue at the bar. At best this is serious incompetence; at worst it’s a deliberate trick to get people buying more booze and their other (overpriced) menu items.
Avoid this shithole. People have already started drawing cocks on the walls, and I wish I’d brought some paint along to do the same. Yardbird’s best shot at any long-term custom is its cheap alcohol and competitive eating (classy, yeah), and they can be relied on to eventually mess these up too.
[EDIT – the special I referred to has now gone, having been acknowledged as a bit of a mistake by YB. I’m not game to visit again, but it may be improved by this change of policy.]
Hangover, meet rissole.
Brio – 36 Vernon Terrace
Food – 6.5/10
Coffee and Juice – 9/10
Celebrating the invasion of Australia requires some truly exhausting partying, and produces an even more exhausting clean-up job. When we’d finally cleaned up every puddle of cooking sherry and got the pig entrails out of the jacaranda trees, it was close to eleven and even my hangover headache had fled in the wake of the horrors I witnessed that morning. Replacing it came a dull dryness in the mouth, eyeballs like saltpans and a surging hunger that gushed over me like goon poured from atop a ‘straya day hill’s hoist.
Fortunately life outside house Philistine was largely fine, and life in Teneriffe was very fine, as it always seems to make such a point of being. Depending on where you stand, the heritage-lined streets in that area are either achingly picturesque or the truest embodiment of exclusive inner-city snottiness. I love it, though I’ve met people who find it really repressive. Right at the heart of this rather divisive stretch of town is Brio Espresso and Juice, just at the base of one of the big apartment blocks on Vernon Street.
It’s a spacious spot and even with quite a number of diners grabbing late breakfasts it was easy to find seats, and we were quickly brought excellent coffees made with their Genovese espresso, which is very strong and tasty. Food prices turned out to be pretty modest, with most of the breakfast standards present. Juice is less affordable, but really worth a look. They’re very serious about the juice aspect of things, with all kinds of interesting combinations on offer for a slightly hefty $7 a pop. I went with the ‘Summer Fruit Slush’, a combination of lime, orange and berries. Highly recommended.
Interestingly, you can get a shot of booze in your juice for an extra $5.50 – a nice option to help lunch transform into early-afternoon boozing, albeit on the expensive side at over $12 for a single 40ml shot of alcohol per drink. Cooking sherry it ain’t.
The Mistress opted for the generously-sized ‘vege-out’ breakfast, drawn by a list of roughly every good thing that a vegetarian could hope for in a breakfast: avo, beans, rosti, poached eggs, asparagus, haloumi, mushrooms and grilled tomato.
My stomach had at this point become a hangover-abyss, and screamed for something more stodgy. I went for a breakfast that is also served at the German Club as a dinner: rissoles with smashed potato. The rissoles at the German Club are greasy, glistening orbs, each massive enough to have its own gravitational field; Brio’s guys came out looking a bit more like burger patties and mercifully free of sauerkraut or any other cabbage-based food item. Very kindly, the staff offered an alternative to the accompanying eggs, so mine came with avocado instead. Nice touch.
Sadly both dishes only did the trick – they didn’t wow us. As with the Deli, they were generously sized and well made, but lacked that finesse that really sets good apart from great. Blandness was a particular frustration for a number of food items, including the mushy rosti, herb-barren rissoles and cool, floury smashed potato. For a dish that offers both avocado and haloumi, the omission of lemon from the veg-out breakfast was particularly egregious, especially in a shop that is consistently full of fruit. To their credit the eggs were perfectly poached and the asparagus deliciously crunchy, but these were the highpoints of an otherwise rather tame meal.
Is this the spot for a breakfast adventure? I’m not sure. It’s a safe bet given its large portions and solid quality, but certainly doesn’t offer anything approaching culinary excitement. However, breakfast was never Brio’s selling point – the full name is ‘Brio Espresso and Juice’ and they do a kick-arse job at both of these things. If I were to return for anything more than coffee, it’d be to try the lunchtime burgers, possibly with a vodka-laced juice or three. Maybe you should too.
The Scratch
The Scratch– 8/10
Milton – 8/1 Park Road
I had the pleasure last year of checking out The Scratch on its second day of business, and was charmed from the moment I first laid eyes on their chalkboard: “CRAFT BEER DIVE – OPEN NOW FOR CHEEKY LUNCHTIME BREWS”.
Milton is home to the XXXX brewery as well as a handful of shinily trashy bars; The Scratch is a brave poke in the eye to the well-established banality of Milton’s drinking and dining scene. To call it a dive is probably fair, but it’s the best thing to happen to Park Road in a long time. Indeed, despite its darkness, rather cosy size and unfortunate location on that traffic-addled road, it may be that this dive is in fact the first bar in Milton that is not an utter shithole.
Instead, the Scratch is a true labour of love – as is demonstrated every time one of the owners emerges from behind the bar with free beer samples for the punters to taste and stories of the brewery it came from. Chat to any of the three blokes that run this establishment and you will witness true passion for beer in all its forms, as well as for many things that only vaguely resemble beer (ever tried barley wine? or a stout milkshake? yummy).
You will probably also be exposed to brands and even beer types that are entirely new to you. Discovery of the day for me was certainly the exceedingly high quality beer that a place called Brew Boys in South Australia puts out, which is beautifully labelled and delicious.
The one seeming drawback of a session at The Scratch is that it will generally cost a bit more than a night on the average Carlton rotgut, but after about four beers from this place it dawned on me (hazily) that the extra dollars spent (around $8-$20 per stubbie) do tend to translate into more standard drinks. This is not a place to visit on an empty stomach, as many of the arcane brews on offer have high alcohol content and some are truly powerful. Fortunately the interior is pleasant, so there’s no drawback in taking things slowly.
The Scratch does have the ‘dented op-shop finds’ look that is becoming rapidly cliche, but they carry it off quite well and it’s still infinitely preferable to the gauche ‘chrome ‘n glass’ vibe that is favoured by bogan establishments. They’ve also made some quite decent finds – ‘Warne’s Pleasure Book For Girls’ joins the general adornment of dark wood, retro board games and widely-scattered toy soldiers. Onya, Shane.
The games are a nice touch. ‘Barrel O’ Monkeys’ is enragingly hard after a few hours in The Scratch, but definitely enriches the visit for a lot of people. For the peckish, a selection of very tempting artisan cheeses is on offer, though I was a bit too fixated on the liquid side of my adventures to sample the range. Another perk of this place is the ‘bring your own food’ policy, though the general culinary dross in this area might make it tricky to find a worthwhile snack.
At its best moments, The Scratch transcends its location and puts forward some really new beer experiences, in ways that I haven’t experienced even at worthy competitors like Kerbside and Bitter Suite. I’m glad it’s already getting the love it deserves; here’s hoping it sets a few much-needed precedents in the city’s inner-west. It’s an easy stagger from Milton train station so you really have no excuse but to go and have a look.
Sure ‘Bitter Suite’ is a pun, but then so is ‘The Beatles’
Bitter Suite – 9/10
75 Welsby Street, New Farm
Archive used to be cool.
There, I said it. I remember the days when it was incredibly cool, and in my heart of hearts I still love visiting it about half the time. It’s just the other 50% of the time that it’s either ridiculously full, or frothing with tragically ruffled 90s hobo-chic bicycle courier dickheads. Plus, the menu has utterly gone to the dogs, with a number of mates reporting food poisoning as an added insult to their generally average meals. This is doubly sad given how good their steak menu once was.
Fortunately, as with all cool things that eventually get co-opted by jerks, Archive had its moment of glory where it set some precedents. These precedents inspired further innovation, and we’re seeing that now as places like Kerbside, The Scratch and Bitter Suite crop up offering tasty craft beers in more virginal suburban spots, each with a pleasant twist. Bring on the new.
Of the new emergent tasty craft beer spots, Bitter Suite remains my favourite for summer afternoon drinks. Not far from the Powerhouse is a corner restaurant which has changed hands a few times in recent years; it’s a bit out of the way. Since Bitter Suite set up there late last year it’s finally got a bit of buzz and I’m really hoping this lasts for years to come, for two reasons. Firstly, it is probably the best place to drink good beer outdoors in Brisbane at the moment. Secondly, it seems to be attracting a pretty mellow crowd, and is often busy but never crowded. Other perks include decent live music that isn’t turned up too loud, plus regular ‘meet the brewer’ beer tastings and the awesomely friendly owners, who seem to have ditched professional life to live the dream.
And what a dream it is. Bitter Suite is in a pretty spot with plentiful outdoor seating and occasional table service. It hosts a solid selection of interesting beers, mostly from Australia and New Zealand but also some great offerings from as far afield as Denmark and the US. While it is possible to run into the occasional lousy beer amongst the gems, there are enough fun things on offer that you’ll definitely find something worthwhile, and the standard Stone & Wood Pacific Ale is a delicious mainstay for those feeling like a steady, sessionable beer. Price-wise the beer menu is moderate, ranging between about $7 and $11. I’m told the wine selection is also decent and the food menu, while not mindblowing, has become a lot more consistent and tasty over time (contrary to the Archive trend). They do bowls of onion rings which literally drip tastiness, especially after a couple of pints.
Also worth dabbling in is the range of beer-ish things that are not technically beer. Crabbie’s Ginger Ale was a discovery for the mistress, who generally spurns anything that has been brewed except Rogers and, well, tea. Also exciting is the upcoming release of a Hibiscus Ale from the local Bacchus Breweries in Capalaba, which neatly straddles the boundary between cider and beer.
If you live anywhere near the Valley/New Farm area or have any reason to be at the Powerhouse (there are many), I can’t recommend Bitter Suite enough as a spot for chilled social drinking, especially on warm afternoons. Get in while it lasts; I am eternally optimistic that this place will stick around but if it goes the way of past businesses, you’ll definitely regret missing it.
“Hurro, Gaijin!”
Harajuku Gyoza – 7/10
I won’t post images for this review, because, on reflection, I realise that eating at Harajuku Gyoza largely isn’t about the food. Indeed, the gyoza (dumplings) are quite forgettable, and the beer is on the pricy side. But the experience is what you should go for – it’s the sights and sounds of your first visit that make it exciting. Harajuku Gyoza is more of a slickly-marketed food theme park than a restaurant. 
From the cute little gyoza-pokemon to the engrish menu and excitable, over-the-top Japanese-sounding staff, Harajuku Gyoza is a smooth contrivance that meets a very neatly identified demand: giving white people what they think is a ‘Japan experience’.
Seriously, tune in next time you hear a group talking about Japan and inevitably some expert will chime in the view that the ‘Japanese are f%^&%^ crazy’. Large parts of Japanese society are very conservative and restrained, but the fun eccentric stuff that happens at the fringes tends to get good media attention here, and man does this place ham it up. Every cool, crazy thing that we identify with Japan is exaggerated hugely here. As one friend put it: “This is like being in Cowboy Bebop.” He assured me that on multiple trips to Japan he’d never seen anything like this place. But he was smiling; we all were.
Going to Harajuku Gyoza is fun. The hosts that welcome you do look a bit like the famous, crazily-dressed kids of Harajuku – you’ll be doing double-takes before you even get into the restaurant. And on that note, expect to spend some time waiting to get in, because the marketing gurus that run this place truly know their shit – I have seen queues outside Harajuku Gyoza on most nights, week and weekend, since the place opened. My hot tip to avoid the worst wait is to have a few pre-drinks and nibbles elsewhere, then turn up well after 8pm.
When you get through the door, something exciting will happen. I won’t spoil the surprise, but the way that these guys make you feel welcome will leave you grinning. The decor is the next excitement – a lot of trouble went into converting this place from a clothes clearance house into the ‘look how crazy japan is’ themepark that it is now. DO order some sake, even if you don’t love the stuff – not only is the Sake served here is pretty bearable (less ammonia than I’m used to), but the huge commotion and excitement that ordering sake creates is part of the fun. Also amusing is the bathroom – it’s a crazy, imported electronic bidet that has many mysterious buttons. I wasn’t game to try the functions but there are many kinds of spray hoses and hot air blowers within the toilet, most of which seem to exist solely to dampen nearby walls. Note the expressions of those emerging from the loo; some look surprised, some look a bit pallid and alarmed.
Amidst all this excitement, noise and visual stimulation, the most touted part of the experience (‘dumplings and beer’) is actually a bit of a tame footnote. The beers are pretty ordinary, at $9 a bottle for things that you can largely get here (Kirin, Sapporo, Asahi).To my great delight, duck gyoza can be bought here; sadly they’re pretty bland. The same goes for the other ones too – the pork and prawn, whether steamed or fried, just don’t create the ‘wow’ that you’re led to expect. They’re decent, but not amazing – and you have to eat a great many gyoza to feel full.
If you truly love dumplings, go to the Brunswick Social, one block away, and feast in their tasteful (albeit less flashy) underground establishment. Eating at Brunswick Social is much more of a food-oriented experience, whereas Harajuku gyoza is all sound and lights and novelty. This is why I suspect that the Social will eventually win the dumpling game. Still, I hope that Harajuku Gyoza does stick around after its first wave of novelty fades – while it’s probably only good once or twice, I think it’s doing a bit of important pioneering in Brisbane. I like the idea that dining can be primarily about entertainment rather than just food; I just wish they’d nailed down both ends of that package a bit better.
VB’s new marketing tactic: pretend not to be VB.
Somewhere, someone is still drinking VB.
Yes, in spite of the wide proliferation of tasty microbrewery beer, there are enough stalwart punters still choosing VB’s industrial tang and fermenty, sour finish that the brand survives. And yet, surely the moment will come where even the most snaggle-toothed and alcoholic of greyhound racers will have had a go at something nicer than VB. Will this be the beginning of the end for this brand?
Probably not. I think the end has already begun for those guys, and they know it (although, being just one of the of beers in the Fosters/SAB-Miller paddock, the end isn’t really an end as much as the loss of one sheep from a flock of hundreds). Like the toppling of obscure dictators in sandy places, I am sure the end will be a drawn-out and ultimately pretty embarrassing affair. Perhaps, on some distant night, an angry mob will fire kalashnikovs into a secluded foxhole outside Geelong to destroy the final carton of VB; there will be riotous partying in the streets for days afterwards.
The first signs that VB suspected impending doom came a couple of years back, when they trotted out ‘VB RAW’, which tasted a bit like Becks or Stella Artois but liked to spruik its purity. The marketing (which had a seemingly bottomless budget) gave me a sense they were going for a kinda macho, aspirational vibe – as if to say, ‘this is healthy and tasty yet VERY manly; drinking this doesn’t make you a poof’. RAW wasn’t bad, just a bit forgettable, and it disappeared off the shelves without fanfare within a few months of release. Here’s a shot of this extinct beast, in all its maxtreme glory.
The quiet failure of RAW left CUB with the problem of those rather tasty non-VB beers threatening the ol’ ‘Bitter market share. Presumably the guys who came up with RAW went back to the drawing board, and after much hard work have come up with a second shot at propping up the brand. I think they must’ve learnt a few lessons: the lycra crowd drinks San Pellegrino and protein shakes, and Corona in a pinch, so they’ve wisely opted not to go for another shot at that market.
Instead they’ve made a beer that tastes a bit like VB again, but made it mildly better with some crisp hop flavours and a lot less of the sour hobo-breath aroma that makes the original so infamous. It does go down pretty easily – Victoria Pale isn’t complex but it also isn’t offensive. This slight uppng of the ante won’t shatter the VB stigma, but then, the bottle doesn’t even say VB on it. Not only has it dodged that particular albatross, it also looks pretty fantastic – dumpy and retro, ditching the front label in favour of clever embossed text right on the glass.
It’s a bit sad that this is the only thing that will help this beer stand out. Going on flavour alone, I would bet that this beer fades into the annals of history much like the RAW before it. But hey, people have to see beer before they buy it – and this pretty midrange offering has the old-school visual appeal that James Squire tries so desparately to achieve (but doesn’t). Perhaps that’ll keep it in the game – after all, when your baseline is VB, everything is an improvement.
Next up: the dumpling craze.
Brisbane’s best tacos?
Vinyl – 125 Boundary street, West End
8.5/10
I am so excited about all the cool new bars and restaurants cropping up in Brisbane – the opening of places like The Brunswick Social, Bitter Suite, Shabu House and Harajuku Gyoza promises many nights of culinary indulgence. My eyes roll back in my head a little when I concentrate on these delicious prospects.
With these front-of-mind topics so dominant, Vinyl really blindsided me. I must’ve walked past it hundreds of times on my adventures through West End, yet something about the frontage has always kept it off my ‘food-radar’ – possibly because I associate it with the upstairs music venue, the Hi-Fi Bar. After all, you don’t go to places like the Zoo or the Tivoli to find good food.
Thus, I found myself pretty amazed when I pushed through a throng of teenage metalheads to sit down for my first meal at Vinyl. The clever retro decor and very good music kept our table happy as we perused the menu. It seemed wildly ambitious; the meals were cheap, yet very creative. Ingredients like salsa verde or truffle mayonnaise aren’t what I’d expected to find under a venue that hosts everything from The Misfits to The Venga Boys.
The drinking options were pretty impressive too. Sure, there was a giant punk dude at the bar asking ‘what’s your cheapest beer?’, but the selection of brews was almost a page long and included some pleasing rarities like Cascade Stout. The cocktail selection was creative and affordable too, though The Mistress didn’t seem too amazed by her gin ‘n juice thing. Perhaps her mind was on her money.
The real ‘wow’ started when the food came out, and had me grinning from ear to ear for the rest of the night. The food at Vinyl borders on spectacular, and when paired with the venue’s other charms (like the pile of ancient retro plates which our food was served on), it makes for a truly awesome meal-sharing experience.
First up was a salvo of the house tacos. In the spirit of adventure I ordered one of each kind – and wished I’d ordered two. Here are the options:
Tacos
grilled chorizo taco, coriander salsa verde $3.50
crispy pork belly taco, charred corn salsa, hot sauce $3.50
fried fish taco, chipotle sour cream, coriander salsa verde $3.50
grilled haloumi taco, fresh tomato salsa v $3.50
seven spice chicken taco, kim chi coleslaw $3.50
Each of these is brilliant – the pork belly was a highpoint for me but each offering was very intensely flavoured but well-balanced. The salsa verde worked beautifully on the chorizo as well as the fish, and had even my most staunchly coriander-hating mate licking his lips. Spicing was just right – the kim chi and chilli options had quite a bit of zing but not not enough to leave anyone suffering. I liked that they were all softshell tacos, too. The harder ones seem to have a penchant for shattering as I bite them, spilling their tasty innards onto nearby clothing and pets.
Round two (and three, and four) was from the remaining menu of delicious snack-sized meals.
guacamole, house made queso fresco, cornchips v | gf $5.50
miso tofu v+ | gf $7.50
twice cooked chicken wings, hoi sin sauce $5.50
salad of baby cos, ranch dressing, celery, walnuts v | gf $7.50
chip butty, house made tomato sauce, aioli v $6
steamed greens, preserved lemon, sumac yoghurt v | gf $10
mexican panzanella, mixed tomatoes, queso fresco, fried tortilla, chipotle, coriander salsa verde v $11
pulled pork roll, kim chi apple sauce $10.50
middle eastern lamb brik pie, harissa yoghurt, preserved lemon gremolata $13
wagyu cheeseburger, aged cheddar, truffle dijonaise, house made tomato sauce, cornichons $14
+ bacon $16
half baby roast chicken, minted peas, white bean puree gf $17
thrice cooked smashed chat potatoes with…
chipotle sour cream/ house made tomato sauce/ aioli/ malt vinegar/ hot sauce OR sumac spiced yoghurt v | gf $6
Most of our party went for the ‘middle eastern lamb brik pie’, which I think may have been the pastry highpoint of my year. My inner fat man jiggled with delight as this dish came out – turns out that these pies are deep fried, not baked. The combination of crunchy, fried pastry and spicy harissa yoghurt wrapped around rich, hot, spicy lamb still makes me groan a little when I think about it.
This was a moment of (slightly greasy) ecstasy more than made up for the other dishes I tried: the mexican panzanella (a salady thing) was a bit bland, and the wagyu cheeseburger was too rich even for the fat guy that lives so happily in my skinny frame.
There is a certain funkiness in the combination of aged cheddar, home made tomato sauce and truffle dijonnaise that just was too much for me – much like the offerings at Burger Urge, the flavours were fundamentally nice but the utter excess of sauce made for tricky eating and minor sensory overload. Still, I cannot emphasise how impressed I was by the range of meals we experienced. The chef (Nicholas Stapleton) even threw us a few free tacos to resolve a slight mix-up in our order. If this seems like nice service, that’s because it was – all the staff were warm and friendly and seemed pretty excited about the food and drinks they were serving.
The one thing that will probably trick you about Vinyl is portion size. Each offering on the menu seems pretty affordable, but really you need to have about 3-5 tacos and another menu item to fill yourself up properly if you’re hungry. This adds up. The tacos may have blown my mind, but they went down all too rapidly because each was hardly bigger than the palm of my hand – two to three bites and I was left ruefully licking sauce off my fingertips. The pie I describe with such loving affection was a bit more generous, but would still fit neatly on top of a postcard. I’d suggest you budget at least $25 for your meal and then that much again to enable you to sample some of the beers on offer.
I am confident that Vinyl’s tacos are the best I’ve had in Brissie – they may be small, but they are vastly more imaginative, fun and lovingly made than the offerings available at popular mexican takeaways like Tuckeria, Guzman y Gomez and Mad Mex. There are some pretty exciting acts hitting the Hi-Fi in coming months, and I highly recommend feasting on tacos downstairs as the perfect start to a big night out.
Not with a bang, but a Gruyère whimper
Anouk
6.5/10
I usually detest the word ‘meh’. It is the ultimate communicative cop-out; an expression of apathy, of being so disengaged that even explaining one’s indifference is like, so not worth it. So I find myself a bit baffled that right now, for the first time, it’s the perfect thing to say.
On the topic of having breakfast at Anouk: ‘meh’.
There, I said it. I even gave my hair a little swish, as if to push my nonexistent fringe away from my eyes.
Anouk has deserved this term not by being good, not by being bad, but by being so surprisingly unremarkable. In spite of a creative menu (which apparently changes constantly) and plenty of hype, the best thing about my meal by far was the interesting conversation in between bites. Anouk left me with nothing to remember it by, and I left with food still on my plate.
The food is clever, but lacks flair. The coffee is, well, okay. The interior is comfortable, but comes with nothing to recommend it, though the large furry things on the walls (huge sheepskins?) make for a decent talking point. Service is like the furtive mating of panda bears: loving and attentive but slow to get going. Prices are on the steep side, yet punters were out in droves (literally queueing out the door) to cough up for the meals on offer. Even the logo is a bit confused: a font like the one used in those ironic sailor tatts that hipsters get on their chests, but in the loopy cursive form that bogan females like to get on their wrists or lower backs.
Strange times. Here’s some specifics on the food. To its credit, it was excellently presented.
These are the ‘Beignets’ (basically savoury dougnuts) made out of sweet potato, sage and Gruyere (a kind of Swiss cheese). Surprisingly these were quite bland, lacking a strong flavour of herbs, cheese or even sweet potato. The Hollandaise was pretty acidic, and the overall impression was one of eating fried mash covered in lemony mayo. It’s clear a lot of inspiration goes into coming up with these meals which made the pretty mild taste quite surprising. The Mistress was pretty pleased, though.
Baklava french toast. This was a pretty awesome idea indeed, yet it didn’t have anyone crying out for more. Anouk avoided the cardinal sin of french toast, which is having it a bit too wet in the middle; they get kudos for this. Sadly, the toast was on the other end of the spectrum – almost dry bread except for a milimetre of batter on either side. Pistachio walnut crumble is exactly as good as it sounds though.
Our other guests had various egg dishes that had them pretty happy but didn’t quite seem to bring on the ‘wow’ moment – this is what I kept waiting for. It never came, until we came upon this ridiculous dog that we found outside the cafe, pissing (sweating?) blithely in the spring sunshine. Wow.
I’m starting to develop a theory that restaurants can reach a point of hype that even with un-amazing food, the sheer social momentum of word-of-mouth is enough to keep everyone in love with a place regardless. If that’s what’s happening here, it all makes sense.
Otherwise, well… meh.
Chouquette
New Farm
8.5/10
Man, I don’t know anything about eating in France. Maybe Brisbane’s handful of French-ish eateries are in fact a lot like the ones in Paris; perhaps the people of Lyon enjoy the same privilege of queuing for overpriced meals that local punters at Cirque do. Perhaps creaky suburban bookshops in Reims serve coffee in bowls just like in our own cafe Bouqiniste.
However, if French dining is anything like the experiences portrayed in Woody Allen’s rather flopworthy recent film, ‘Midnight in Paris’, then Brisbane remains resolutely Brisbane-ish in its provision of foreign experiences. Unlike the cobblestones and nostalgia and faint kitsch of Allen’s France, eating at Australian restaurants is mostly still a very Australian experience.
Case in point: Saturday morning. There are reasons Chouquette draws crowds, but instead of spacious café quaintness and bubbling French debate, the crowd occupies what feels like a large corridor, and the man sitting next to us is telling his daughters how he’s likely to ‘get shitfaced and spew his guts up’ tonight. Key entertainment is watching local millionaires try to parallel-park their luxury German sedans. Chouquette’s urban setting might best be described as ‘roadside’, with an ambiance that seems about as French as a box of Marlboro cigarettes.
Sometimes, a place has food so good that none of this matters, and this is absolutely the case with Chouquette. I have never before enjoyed a sandwich quite so much as I did yesterday. The Merlo-brand coffee is strong (if not the smoothest, still good quality potent stuff) and the baguettes are absolutely superb.
The goat cheese/roast tomato baguette in the background was my favourite, though some may find the cheese a bit strong. The smoked salmon baguette (foreground) was almost as good.
The croissants are also quite possibly the best in Brisbane, being fresh and rich and beautifully crunchy. Even the macarons, which usually repulse me, are quite irresistible. In spite of the way this spot seems to attract the wealthy, it is one of those rare places where you can get breakfast for two for less than $30 and still feel pretty spoilt.
If the standard breakfasts are not enough to leave you exhausted with culinary pleasure, the assorted pastries and desserts are also pretty incredible. We splurged $6.50 on the ‘Mont Blanc’, a soft yoghurt cheesecake on a rich berry-and-almond base, topped by beautifully fresh raspberries and coulis. Making cheesecake out of yoghurt means it’s much lighter than normal cheese-based versions. This enabled the flavour of raspberry to come through without being overpowered or diluted in the way that stodgier cakes might so. The Mont Blanc was a sublime end to an already impressive meal, and was so beautifully presented that we had neighbouring diners staring over at it longingly.
It seems that the common factor in Chouquette’s consistently brilliant food is quality. No corner appears to have been cut in making each dish. The ingredients are top-class, with immense skill and care going into each construction. Accessing this level of quality may require you to briefly cohabit with Gazza and overhear his weekend plans while he coddles his shih-tzu, but the first bite of your baguette will make it all worthwhile.
Jeremy’s
Jeremy’s Espresso Bistro (Restaurant)
Albert Street, Brisbane CBD
8/10
Exploring Brisbane’s vast culinary options can really loosen one’s grip on reality. Scallops topped with beetroot froth, heuvos rancheros and san choi bao coexist happily in adjacent restaurants, even as Brisbane’s ornery traffic rages and our politicians yap contrived hatred at each other. Brisbane life’s humdrum rhythm stutters ever onward, yet novelty is increasingly abundant and accessible in the city’s menus.
Visiting Jeremy’s turns the novelty trend on its head. Having battled a brutal flu this month, I know what it is like to occasionally crave what one might (rather uncomfortably) call ‘white people food’. Familiar, stodgy, rich, comforting white-people-food. Traditional cuisine. Meat ‘n two veg. In this regard, Jeremy’s delivers handsomely, and without the usual frumpiness and cultural cringe that accompanies normal notions of ‘white people food’ (viz greyish broccoli and semi-burnt snags).
Indeed, if meat ‘n two veg could be considered an art, Jeremy’s is the goddamn Rembrandt of traditional dining. Conservative cooking is something to be proud of when you do it this well. The design of the restaurant helps too – smart but slightly rustic, with just enough exposed brick and clever lighting to feel entirely unlike your mum’s dining room. It feels like a classy experience, but not in the stuffy way that some traditional establishments can feel. The quality of the food and wine (and even beer) is high – though you do pay for what you get. For around $120 you can enjoy two courses and a couple of good glasses of wine.
The first time I ate at Jeremy’s I was so surprised (and hungry, and boozed) that I almost entirely forgot to take photos – by the time I’d guzzled my cut of kingfish, I was satiated enough to remember the camera and snap some dazed shots of the decorative garnish. Alas, garnish is not the stuff of reviews. Like an admirer accidentally-on-purpose leaving things at your house to create a reason to visit again, I used this as an excuse to come back sober and non-ravenous to fully document the meal. My photographic eagerness thoroughly annoyed the maitre ‘d; he became stony-faced and laconic but the food made up for it. Check it out.
Six perfect oysters, served fresh on about a kilo of sea salt. Nice touch.
Each of these is a deliciously plump scallop sitting on a mini pancake, topped with salsa. Rich, buttery and comforting. Also conveniently share-able. The salsa was somewhat forgettable, and the lack of lemon lamentable, but a good mouthful all the same.
OK, so it’s probably trite to show images of wine, since it lacks the visual uniqueness that well-presented food can offer. Check out Langdon’s Shiraz anyway – this was an exceedingly rich, full red which bordered on merlot flavours but without excessive sweetness.
The first time I visited Jeremy’s there was a drunk guy in thongs and a baseball cap eating this dish (lamb cutlets) alone. His groans of carnal pleasure convinced me to try it on my second visit. While I couldn’t quite achieve foodgasm myself, the dukkah coating almost got me there, and the near-rare texture of the meat had all kinds of sensuality going on. Highly recommended.
Having sampled the range of meaty offerings at Jeremy’s (including pork belly, confit duck and kingfish) I must admit that this was probably the lowpoint of the mains menu. While of excellent quality, this beef fillet was nowhere near ‘medium rare’ – closer to medium well – and this dish proved to me that beetroot is shit in even the finest of culinary settings. The truffle mash was superb though.
Jeremy’s is my current #1 venue for safe dates, visiting relatives and comfort dining. Next time you’re having a bit of a sook, make a booking (bypassing their ineffective online booking system) and check it out. You will be cheered up.
And with that, all that remains to be said is:
Garnish.
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