Favourite Sydney breakfasts

Today I was on Anna Burns' excellent Weekend Lunch show (on FBI 94.5FM) talking about my favourite Sydney breakfast places. I say 'favourite' and not 'best', because as soon as you use that word, you end up baiting people into disagreeing. Favourites are a personal thing.

Mine are (in no order really):
Clipper Cafe, Glebe
Ruby's Diner, Waverley
Cafe Ish, Surry Hills
Baffi & Mo, Redfern
Strangers With Candy, Redfern (although I so easily could have listed Vargabar, Newtown because the raspberry coconut smoothies are awesome, but maybe I'm still a tad cranky that they removed the much-loved potatoes off the breakfast menu).

The fruit salad (pictured above) is from Ruby's Diner and it totally steamrolls over all the sad little versions you see wilting away in plastic containers everywhere. Also, it's a visual reminder of the awesomeness of Ruby's (a place that also does a kick-ass dinner, too).

All this breakfast thinking makes me (almost!) wish I could flash-forward through this breezy lovely Saturday arvo and skip to browsing menus on Sunday morning …

Macaron Day at Adriano Zumbo

It's Macaron Day at Adriano Zumbo in Balmain.

Here's a quick lunchtime post.

I arrived at the patisserie at 8.30am and the line was ridiculous and (unencouragingly) not moving at all. But, 40 minutes later (a lot of it spent snooping on other people's print-outs of the 45ish flavours on offer), I ended up with a box that had these following macarons:

-Vegemite sourdough
-Burnt toast and butter
-Strawberries and cream
-Blue cheese and pear
-Pain d’epice
-Turkish delight
-Neopolitan
-Olive oil and rosemary
-Toasted marshmallow
-Lamington

And, the microsecond after a bowl-full was plunked onto the counter, a Chupachup-flavoured one.



I've just had the olive oil and rosemary one and it was insanely good (as nutty as that sounds).

More updates when I can spare a second.

Here are some pics I quickly snapped during lunch, with a fabric sample borrowed from the kindly Hello Sandwich.

The last month looked a little like this

The 'Sugar Hit' dessert plate at Azuma Kushiyaki had so many parts that it spanned two trays. My favourite bit: the vanilla cheesecake that suffered raspberry 'internal bleeding' when you spooned deep into it. Will loved the mysterious coconut dessert that you baptised with a glass of maple syrup. The presence of the salty seaweed snacks among the cakes and mousse sparked question marks and amusement – like a mistranslated punchline. Lots of fun, all round, nevertheless.



I was walking by when Ashfield's Big Yum Cha started. There were no lazy Susans (or instances of trolley-cart rage), just Liverpool Road parallel-parked with tables full of takeaway goods. The street-stall vibe was a nice thing.




Swissotel's 'Sugar Hit' was like a Miro painting in raspberry planes and chocolate angles and drops.



(The surrounds didn't quite match the Spanish artist's joyous scribbles and plops of colour, though – why do hotels always shelter a faint layer of sadness?)

And there were a few other things we experienced during October's Sydney International Food Festival (including a confusing experience at Glass brasserie), but this is just a bite-sized record of the month that just blitzed by …

Baffi and Mo, Redfern

A brilliant breakfast menu is like a knockout second album by a band you love: different and original enough to leave the critics a little dizzy, but familiar enough to ensure everything that drew you in the first place hasn't been reprogrammed out of existence.

So, you want eggs, sides, toast and the comfort of ordering all day (to maintain the fantasy that you haven't really slept in so extravagantly), but, like a fast-bored kid, you want the "surprise me" factor, too. This is an epic ask, but it is also what makes you single out a cafe for extra attention, endless return visits and much deserved "new favourite" status.



And so it is with Baffi & Mo in Redfern, which is now that place we try to brainwash people into visiting 'cos we love it so. (It seems to be working as we keep bumping into familiar faces there.)

Like a lot of people, we first heard about this cafe through Time Out magazine endorsing its breakfast, especially the potato hash. And the publication's ode to this starchy dish has to be seconded, because it is truly awesome. You can get the hash as a stand-alone meal (topped with tomato, asparagus, avocado, ham and egg) or as a side; either way, you'll enjoy its spectrum of flavour – from the crisp, crusty cross-hatched 'shell' on the outer edges to the the soft-cooked potato in the middle. Amaze. It fast rocketed up our list of favourite things, ever.



If you like reliable tradition of ordering eggs and building up your meal, DIY-style, with sides, you can get Eggs (Poached or Scrambled) with Country White Sourdough ($9) and include cameos of Boston Beans, Mushrooms, Feta, Roasted Tomato, etc, for just $3 each. Or you can try Baffi & Mo's various spins on breakfast standards, such as Roast Mushroom with Basil and Ricotta on Wholemeal Spelt ($8.50) or Homemade Bircher with Poached Pear ($11).



Will and I are fans of the French Toast with Passionfruit Curd, Lime, Ricotta, Strawberry ($12), and even though we were overstuffed by our savoury choices, we pressed on with having it as a 'Bressert'. Like everything else, it refocuses a recognisable dish in clever ways: the strawberries seem to be soaked in a kaffir lime leaf syrup, giving them a two-flavoured edge, while the passionfruit curd is sweet and punchy, cutting through the wallflowerish taste of ricotta. Really really good.



And similarly, Pea, Corn and Haloumi Fritters with Fresh Avocado and Roasted Cherry Tomatoes ($12), although technically part of the lunch menu, again gives an obvious meal a superhero phone-booth transformation. The vegetables lighten up the punchy haloumi chunks, a many-flavoured alternative to the usual one-note fritter.

Also, there are fun frappes on the menu, such as the Mixed Berry and Pineapple Mint.



As for the "Mo" in the cafe's name, I'd expected more facial hair in the decor but the moustaches are sparing, with a few Mario-and-Luigi-style graphic touches here and there. (Although I noticed a very cool moustache necklace on one of the employees today, sourced via a lovely friend in London.) Will and I were actually more taken with the dramatic black-and-white wallpaper that spans across one side of the cafe. (I think Will would snap almost anything in front of that backdrop; judging from his camera-work, he has a bit of a crush on it.)

Another nice thing about Baffi & Mo, it is quite easy to get to, without being in such a high-traffic area that you have to wait forever for a table.



It's our current favourite and we have a feeling that its sway over us will last quite a (moustache-growing) while.

Baffi and Mo, 94 Redfern Street, Redfern NSW (02) 8065 3294, http://twitter.com/baffiandmo.

P.S. You can see all these awesome pictures in their XL-sized glory on Will's photo blog.

Kakawa, Darlinghurst

I easily fall into a spell looking into counters lined with exquisite pralines, and the new Kakawa chocolatier in Darlinghurst is the latest place to continue this hold on me. The boutique is a nice front-display break from the endless car showrooms and rental vehicle outlets that keep William Street so drab and what's in store is even more appealing.



Run by head chocolatier Jin Sun Kim and co-owner/partner David Tobias Ralph, Kakawa is filled with many ways to stun your sweet tooth: chocolate slabs and lollipops, bags of fudge (choose from White Chocolate & Vanilla or Milk Chocolate & Sea Salt) and wrappers sealed in with caramels.

As beautiful and understated as everything looks though, I can't help but instantly crane over the counter – inspecting the rows of pralines, as my brain settles an internal ballot on which ones to take home.



I end up trying ten of the flavours and am impressed by the collection. It's probably a zero-suspense giveaway that the Basil praline is one of my favourites, because I go home with three of them. I like how Kakawa uses the more fragrant Thai version of the herb, and the basil's sweet-savoury edge works exquisitely well when enveloped in bitter dark choc.



The Citrus comes topped with a thin, candied-peel sliver and tastes like an artisan Jaffa – levels better than the original and far too nice to ever roll down any cinema aisle.



Green Tea is dusted with maccha powder and, as you bite through, the praline reveals a smoky, creamy and sweet triple-hit of flavour. It's like eating green tea ice cream in choc form. (Instant fan status, guaranteed.)

Strawberry Pox, despite its medically unattractive name, is very easy on the eye (its red speckles more like a benign constellation of brightness, rather than the skin-pocked condition the title implants in your head). The white chocolate hides a burst of strawberry puree, as gooey as it is insanely delicious – not too sweet, just intensely berry-strong. This is the only pox I'd wish on anyone.



Kakawa's motto is "edible jewels for you" and Port Dome definitely looks like a beautifully cut gemstone, with washes of red and white over its cocoa surface. The flavour (sweet port and bitter choc) is a bit too "old man" for my personal taste, although I like how it is rolled in ginger sugar. And I rate it a lot more than the usual alcohol-centric pralines that are drowned in liqueurs.



My utter favourite though is the Raspberry and Mint Crisp – even though it didn't make it home in the most perfect of states (it flattened and burst in my bag after my dunce-like self pushed some magazines on top), but even in its destroyed form, it still ended up blowing me away. I always love the fruity-sweet intensity of raspberry, but lined up with white chocolate and crackles of mint, this praline makes the shortlist of best I've ever tried. (Even if I have to eat it with a spoon.)



My only semi-criticism of this lovely chocolatier is that the labels of the pralines don't always match up with rows – so it's easy to get a little mixed up with what exactly is what. I was all keyed up about ordering the Mango & Passionfruit, only to discover it was sold out (the line of chocs in its place were actually a hazelnut variety). That praline's quick disappearance though, only forms a perfect excuse to hurry back.

Kakawa has only been open since last week and consequently has had some crazy operating times (7am to 7pm last Friday)! Now though, you can walk into the store 9am to 6.30pm on weekdays and the employees put up the closing sign slightly earlier on weekends: at 4pm. If you waltz by earlier though, you'll see them in the kitchen from 7.30am, readying the small hand-made treats for anyone in need of an early morning sugar rush.



Shop 5, 147 William St (a few blocks from the Darlinghurst Rd end), Darlinghurst, (02) 9331 8818, www.kakawachocolates.com.au. You can also find more information on the store's Facebook page.

Adriano Zumbo at World Chef Showcase

Here's a little blog candy for you. This was one of the Wasabi Macarons that were given out at the Adriano Zumbo session at Sydney International Food Festival, where the pastry chef blew the secret on Margaret Fulton's birthday cake (it's going to be several shades of vanilla) and delivered his ever-sweet take on Japanese desserts (katsudon sauce was used). Post to come later in the week …

Sergi Arola and Brent Savage at World Chef Showcase

Din Tai Fung dumplings being prepared outside the World Chef Showcase at Star City

The lifespark of this blog has to be the very first dinner I had at Bentley Restaurant and Bar in Surry Hills. That one meal led to a full-blaze curiosity about this city's food districts, as well as immense awe for Bentley's co-owner/head chef Brent Savage, whose playful, inventive and insanely clever dishes are a mix of art gallery and sci-fi playground on a plate.

So I was excited to see he was on the World Chef Showcase bill, with his "idol", the award-winning Spanish chef Sergi Arola, whose former rock star days explain his current ownership of 17 guitars (slightly dwarfing his tally of Michelin stars). On the day, Savage told the crowd he was "a little nervous" about sharing the stage with one of Ferran Adria's most well-known disciples, and now a cutting-edge name in his own right.

Most of the showcase spotlight fell on Sergi Arola, who is not your average chef. Not just because of his highly contemporary, experimental way of of cooking, but because he has a seemingly equal love for music. He used to be in a band called Los Canguros (yes, 'kangaroos' in Spanish) and, as it would turn out, the Australian link didn't stop resonating there. Sydney group The Church were a big influence on him; when he first heard Almost With You in 1983, he listened to it three days solid.


Spanish chef Sergi Arola projected on the screen

When Arola addressed the crowd, he apologised for his command of English. He only learnt the language through listening to songs, and "you know what happens when you do this". Besides a few quirks (he had a cute way of pronouncing 'recipe' so it sounded like 'receipt'), he was highly understandable and (like a lot of Europeans who downgrade their English skills, when they're actually quite good) didn't really didn't need to apologise.

Music and cuisine are similar, he explained, they were just ways for him to translate emotion. A meal could be like a Clash protest song, for example.

To introduce us to his work, the chef sent us on a tour-via-slides of his current main restaurant, "very close to here, in the centre of Madrid", he Dad-joked. Called Sergi Arola Gastro, it not only is the first non-French resto to land two Michelin stars in the year it opened, it is also a reaction to his time at La Broche, a celebrated fine diner that was slightly over-the-top. His wife, Sara Fort, told him, "I'm tired, I want to feel at home", and so Arola's current Gastro is "very normal" in comparison. The menu and decor are driven by the idea that "less is better" and he shuns designer cutlery for old-school Christofle knives and spoons that are "100 per cent '80s, like me" (he comes across a lot cooler than that daggy decade though).


Image of a traditional Ajo Blanco

In the last 10-15 years, he says, chefs have become a little like "dictators": "Ego makes us forget we're a team". Waiters, often overlooked, are actually the lifeline of any establishment because even the best food with bad service is a "disaster"; service is the "difference between a good restaurant and an exceptional restaurant". His wife, who is also Gastro's manager, "makes me remember [that] every morning."

Another revelation for Arola was a simple one: when he read about all the legendary French chefs, he realised they all baked their own bread. And, after 12 years, it's a "dream" – humble as it is – for him to make his own loaves on-site.

This turn-around hadn't led to Arola becoming more solemn or less adventurous about food (in fact, I loved how his slideshow was spiked with good-humoured commentary –
"my sommelier is going to kill me!" he exclaimed about the photograph showing hams drying in the cellar).

The main topic of the chef's demonstration was tapas. He started by slicing sashimi and fanning it quickly on a tiny dish. This was not tapas, he declared, even though it is often hastily rebranded as such. So often you ask for tapas and what you're really served is a small plate. "Tapas is a way of life," he explained. It's what happens when you're with friends, it comes in little portions and is very inviting. It's placed at the centre of table and the most "important" part of it is actually the company and what you're drinking.


Image of Sergi Arola's version of Ajo Blanco

That's not to say he was shy about remixing this Spanish tradition. His take on Ajo Blanco, a white version of gazpacho, with grapes, sardines and bread often added, is Ajo Blanco with Cherry Caviar and Asparagus. With Arola's approach, he opts for a sophisticated texture instead – foam – which he creates with what journos and colleagues call the "devil machine".

It's funny, I can't quite reconcile his high-maintenance way of cooking with his remark that "Life is so complicated, I prefer cuisine to be simple". I think a Michelin-starred chef's idea of simple is more ambitious than the average cook, who has half an hour to get something onto the dinner table after work, before tested appetites become full-tilt monstrous.

For instance, when he makes his pizza-like Coca with Foie Gras and Capsicum, one step involves caramelising onions for 24 hours, which would undoubtedly taste awesome – Arola says onions are 10% sugar, so once all water is reduced, the slices are dizzyingly sweet. But it's not the most practical instruction to follow, and that doesn't even involve use of blowtorches or Thermomixes (which come later). Once you accept this is the kitchen equivalent of a dream montage (rather than a practical cooking class), then it's easier to swallow.


Sergi Arola preparing his Patatas Bravas

That said, Arola is so thoroughly likeable and good-guy-ish about everything. When he's explaining which seafood ingredients he will not use for sustainability reasons (tuna, shark are on menu exile), he does it without at all sounding preachy or smug but as someone who's just trying to be decent and respectful of how things are sourced. That he works with several NGOs on this issue seems less a CV-boast and more his commitment to making sure what lands on your plate wasn't a bit-player in ecological devastation.

Also, it's not hard to be won over by his imagination and liveliness. Arola's reinvention of Patatas Bravas is my favourite of the day – he turns the overfamiliar dish into a bonbon. Yes, a bonbon. Using a "heartbreaker" (his name for an apple corer), he drills cylinders out of the potatoes – making cute sound effects as he does (p'chang! P'chang!). He tunnels in another hole in each starchy tube, bakes it on low heat before deep-frying, then pipes in chilli sauce and adds puffs of aioli on top. It's his elegant and fantastical response to a very simple problem – how to get the right amount of sauce with Patatas Bravas (the dish's downfall, in his mind). The result is not so much a bonbon as a little show of magic.


Brent Savage piping the Parmesan Custard

Matt Preston was the moderator for this session and admitted, "it's a bit mean, isn't it?", making Brent Savage follow such an act. The chef agreed. "I haven't got 17 guitars to talk about."

The focus of his demonstration was Parmesan Custard Truffled Asparagus with Semolina Cracker, a "sophisticated cheese stick" for adults that is served at Bentley Restaurant and Bar. He said it was a good vegetarian option (one of Bentley's high points is that is vego-friendly rather than vego-forgetful, as some high-end restaurants can be), and although it appears under the tapas menu in his establishment, "I'm a bit scared to use that word after what we've just gone through. So let's just call it a small plate."

The recipe involved a bit of tech-wizardry and at one point, Brent Savage suggested people buy a Thermomix for their kitchen.

Matt Preston asked if they're affordable. Yes, said Savage, they're about $2000. "That's what chefs call cheap," Preston joked.


Savage adding ingredients to the Parmesan Custard

One of the steps with the custard involved removing air from it, which the chef achieved by placing the wet parmesan mix in a vacuum machine, without a bag (the gadget is usually used for sealing food). It sucked out all the air in a one droney whoosh.

"How much is a vacuum machine? $5000? $10,000?" interjected Preston. The chef responded by agreeing with these supposedly accurate estimates of the tool. As an alternative, you can just pass the custard through a (much more cheaper) Tamis sieve, to knock out all the air.


Din Tai Fung dumplings being prepared outside the World Chef Showcase at Star City

After this demo, Sergi Arola returned to the stage to take a few questions. As a highly experimental chef, he mounted a good defence of molecular gastronomy, a trend that lots of food critics like to use as a bulls-eye. The chef pointed out that using science has always been a part of cooking – "when you add salt to meat, it's a chemical process" and when you place food in an oven or barbecue, physical transformations take place. The debate between molecular gastronomy and classic cooking is a silly one.

"It's stupid to think, is the right one sophisticated or simple? If the guest enjoys the food, it doesn't matter ... if it comes from your mother, grandmother or a duck. Respect the guest," Arola said. "Ego makes us forget that the only reason for opening the restaurant every morning is you."