bramble & vine, carlton north

On a recent weekend I met up with my friend Joanne for a long-overdue catch-up dinner at Bramble & Vine (749 Nicholson St, Carlton North).

I was looking forward to this dinner for some very good reasons.

1) Quality girl time with Joanne! It's just so cosy, chatting and musing about lifestuff with someone you've known for over a decade.
2) The enticing menu on Bramble & Vine's website, their attention to fresh, locally sourced products, and the magnificently positive ratings on Urbanspoon.
3) The hospitality I experienced in a mere phone call. It's almost impossible to not warm to a place when you call to make a booking and the response is an effeverscent exclamation of "Oh, that's wonderful!", as if you'd just informed your favourite aunt that you were coming to dinner.

I can say that the evening satisfied me on all counts. The conversation flowed, the food was delicious, and our hostess (whom I believe is co-owner Leila) was welcoming and enthusiastic.

This is what we had...

Chicken & pistachio sausage with barberries, pomegranate, rose petals & cous cous. A gorgeous dish with inspiration from the Middle East. Tangy, savoury, nutty... it was an artfully conducted orchestra of both bold and subtle flavours.

Chicken & pistachio sausage with barberries, pomegranate, rose petals & cous cous. $26.

Fish of the day served on red rice, quinoa & a seafood bouillabaisse. The first thing we noticed was the non-existent red rice - it turned out that they forgot to tell us beforehand that it wasn't available that day. Fortunately, taste-wise, we didn't really miss it. The rockling was decently cooked, and the fried ginger on top was a nice touch. The bouillabaisse was light, yet flavourful, and I mopped it all up with the quinoa.

Fish of the day served on red rice, quinoa & a seafood bouillabaisse. $26.

Kipfler potatoes with thyme, rosemary & bush lime aioli. Done the rustic way with thinly sliced, different-sized pieces, the textures vary, mostly crunchy, some just tender. There were a few pieces that were a tad greasy, but I enjoyed more than my fair share. They were quite dangerously moreish with their herb-infused goodness, and a fabulous alternative to regular chips/fries. The aioli was creamy, silky, and had a very sharp tang of bush lime.

Kipfler potatoes with thyme, rosemary & bush lime aioli. $8.

Apple & rosewater sorbet with vanilla geranium crumble. So very pretty; I can only imagine all the effort that went into it. The apple chips on top were light as a feather, sensationally crisp, and concentrated with a glorious natural sweetness. Beneath them, gentle apple sorbet is balanced gracefully on rosewater gel and shortbread. Scattered across the plate, the vanilla geranium crumble was intriguing and I wished there was more. I wasn't too keen on the shortbread (it had a distracting milk-powder quality to it), but other than that, this dessert was pure elegance.

Apple & rosewater sorbet with vanilla geranium crumble. $12.

As you may have noted, there were some little quibbles here and there; however, they hardly detracted from what was, overall, a truly sensuous and delightful meal. Joanne said, "I'm very impressed with the food here," and I have to agree. If you're looking for a north side restaurant that serves up harmonious flavours without the hipsters and the hype (for now, anyway), this is a good one to add to your list.



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of chervil, milk mayonnaise, and chicken burgers

chervil mayo chicken sandwiches on toasted seven-seed bread.

I have to confess that despite my apparent adventurous streak, I frequently use the same herbs over and over again. This is due partly to my cheerful reliance on my little windowsill herb garden, which currently flourishes with mint, rosemary and garlic chives, but let's face it... variety is fun, and there are only so many facets I can tease out of those three, awesome as they are.

So I've decided I should expand my repertoire and when I spotted chervil at the markets recently, it felt like the perfect challenge, because I knew absolutely zilch about it.

Chervil looks like a tinier, daintier version of flat-leaf parsley, and upon sampling it I found that it has a similar taste too, but gentler and with a bonus hint of anise. Now I have to say that my feelings toward parsley and aniseed are lukewarm at best - I'll accept small amounts in my food, but I don't go out of my way for them - however, I have developed quite an affection for chervil, perhaps because it has a much subtler magic to it. In fact, I bought it again at South Melbourne Market the very week after my first purchase, and I can see it sneaking into my meals more often in the future.

A few simple ideas for chervil? Chop it up and toss it together with balsamic vinegar, olive oil and almond flakes to create a simple salad. Serve it fresh atop a hot noodle broth. Use it anywhere you can imagine using parsley. Trust that it will deliver. It did for me.

chervil.

But wait, there's more! I did a bit of poking around online to see what others have done with their chervil and came across David Lebovitz's chervil mayonnaise recipe, which is basically a chervil-ised adaptation of David Leite's milk mayonnaise - an intriguing eggless mayonnaise recipe of Portuguese origins that uses milk in lieu of yolks.

This milk mayonnaise, it works. If you feel a bit iffy about raw eggs, it will change your life. Fresh mayo, no eggs, no worries - and if you're vegan, soy milk will do, too!

I decided to start with Leite's mayonnaise, with the idea that I would just dress some roughly chopped chervil with it afterwards, instead of incorporating finely chopped chervil as per Lebovitz's way. Initially, I foolishly attempted this by hand with a balloon whisk, which took me nowhere, but once I transferred the mixture to a little blender, it emulsified beautifully, smooth and thick. I then foolishly washed my chervil just before dredging it through the mayonnaise (instead of doing it earlier and letting it dry). The excess moisture undid my efforts and I ended up with a slightly watery concoction.

Oh well, live and learn. By the way, if you're suspiciously wondering why my milk mayonnaise is so vibrantly yellow, it's due to the carotene-rich oil I used. It's all legit, I promise!

Despite my gaffes, dinner was served. Toasted organic sourdough seven-seed bread. Pan-fried free-range chicken patties. Freshly blended milk mayonnaise. Garlands of chervil. Simon helping me out with the photographs, because he knows better on how to fight the curse of artificial lighting, and because I could really use a break after all my travails. Standing by the kitchen bench together as we devoured our burgers. Happiness.

chervil mayo chicken burgers on toasted seven-seed bread.

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movida bakery, south yarra

Gleeful anticipation. That was what I felt when I heard that the new Movida Bakery (3 Tivoli Road, South Yarra) was set to open in my 'hood. As a ravenous food blogger, having a Movida outlet in my suburb is like winning a hot dinner date with a celebrity.

The nice thing about getting to know a celebrity better with a few more dates, though, is that this blog post, written over a month later, is considerably less fan-girly, and more rational and measured. Gladly, even though the initial starry-eyed excitement is over, this is a largely positive relationship and one that I am happy to keep going for as long as it remains warm, convenient and delicious.

My first purchases? The much-hyped doughnuts. They kept me in good company as I awaited my friend Leon to arrive, reliably late, for our catch-up brunch.

The salted caramel has been getting a lot of attention in the press. This is a doughnut for those with a sweet tooth - check out that rich, glossy caramel.

The very popular salted caramel doughnut ($3.5).

I've always tended more towards lighter, fruitier treats rather than rich ones, though, for the most part, so I was keen to try the others. So here we have the lemon doughnut, with a very, very lemony curd filling for those who like a robust sour hit.

The boldly tangy lemon doughnut ($3.5).

The rhubarb doughnut has a graceful acidity in the curd and just the right amount of sugar for me. At this point in time, it's probably my favourite, though my cravings do change depending on my mood.

The rather charming rhubarb doughnut ($3.5).

As a side note, while the doughnuts are tasty, at $3.50 a pop I don't see myself buying them often. Also, I'd like to see them kept in a warmer so you're not at the mercy of lucky timing to get a piping hot one. Because we all know a good doughnut is always a hundred times better when it's at that perfectly snug 'n' toasty temperature.

And now, about the pies...

The lamb pie is gently spiced with notes of paprika. It was pleasant enough, I suppose, but it didn't particularly grab me. (The nicest lamb pie I've had is probably still the one from French Fantasies.)

Lamb pie (I think it was around $6.5).

Leon went for the PX beef pie, which had a billowing pastry that was quite a sight to behold. I was offered a bite, which culminated in a silky, luxurious filling, dark and exotic with hints of Pedro Ximenez sherry and star anise. We both agreed that we preferred this pie.

(By the way, try a bit of their sauce with your pie - it comes in that red plastic tomato you can just barely see in the background, and has a relish-like flavour. As Leon exclaimed, "Even their sauce is good!")

PX beef pie (I think it was around $6.5).

I've returned by myself a couple of times since that first visit. A recent favourite is the egg and chorizo mini sandwich. The simple pairing of delicately herbed and seasoned scrambled egg with the gorgeous smokiness of the chorizo made my tram ride to work so much more fulfilling.

This egg and chorizo mini sandwich ($5) lifts my spirits in the morning.

Also winning my heart is this flourless almond orange cake with vanilla-flecked buttercream and candied pistachios. A lovely moist crumb, just the right amount of zestiness, and that lush topping... I don't know if it's a regular item on the menu, but I hope we meet again.

Orange cake ($5), flourlessly beautiful.

In any case, Movida Bakery is a great addition to South Yarra - despite the star status of the Movida name, it exudes neighbourly charm and the gunny sacks of organic flour that compose part of their decor make me feel a little less guilty about all the carbs I'm consuming. I look forward to trying more of their goodies in the ensuing months.



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spring onion & radish salad in soy-lemon-sesame vinaigrette

Amazingly - given their popularity in Australian cuisine - I've never bought little red radishes before. I've always been more of a daikon kind of girl. But when I saw bunches of radishes going for cheap, cheap, cheap at the market the other week, I thought it was high time I experimented with them.

spring onion and baby radishes.

Radishes, when raw, have a sharp, spicy flavour which mellows down to a gentle sweetness if cooked. For this recipe, you may use either raw radish, cooked radish, or a combination of both, depending on your preferences. If you serve this salad soon after preparation, the difference will be fairly distinct in both taste and texture, but if you leave the radish slices to marinade overnight, the dressing so infuses them that it becomes much of a muchness - in which case, just leave 'em raw and save yourself the trouble.

This incredibly easy recipe is really just a combination of sliced radishes and spring onions tossed in a vinaigrette of shoyu, lemon and roasted sesame oil. Very simple. Very refreshing.

asian-inspired spring onion & radish salad in soy-lemon-sesame vinaigrette

1 bunch (12 - 15) young radishes about 2 - 3 cm / 1 inch in diameter
2 spring onions (aka scallions)
1 teaspoon shoyu, tamari, or light soy sauce
1 teaspoon lemon juice, or lime
1 teaspoon Chinese sesame oil / roasted sesame oil

Trim the leaves and ends of the radishes. Thinly slice. Leave them raw, or if you prefer, you may boil or steam them till just tender.
Finely slice the dark green part of the spring onions. Don't discard the white parts, though - you can use them in future soups, stocks and stir-fries. Alternatively, you can also boil or steam the white parts to take away their edge, and use them in this salad as well.
Toss together radish and spring onions with soy sauce, lemon or lime juice, and sesame oil, making sure they mix well.
Let the salad marinade serenely in the fridge for at least 30 minutes, or leave it overnight before serving. Makes a great little side dish!

To make this recipe gluten-free, use wheat-free tamari soy sauce.
Use less of the lemon or lime juice if you prefer a less acidic taste.
If you have sesame seeds (I wish I did!), lightly toast and sprinkle through the salad just before serving, for extra flavour and crunch.

asian-inspired spring onion & radish salad in shoyu-lemon-sesame vinaigrette.

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cibi: touch the heart - tasting night & workshop

A few weeks ago I meandered along to Cibi's website and made the serendipitous discovery of a free and upcoming exhibition-slash-event that I would otherwise never had known about. It was a tasting night, incorporating a workshop, called "Touch the heart: Eat & learn at Cibi".

"Greetings from CIBI.

We hope you are well and enjoying the autumn chill which is great for driving us into the kitchen with lovely autumn/winter produce, to create heart-warming food.

In a change from past exhibitions, this time we want to introduce and showcase our "fresh approach to simplicity" in the kitchen, which is the heart of our CIBI food philosophy.

It promises to be a tasty and fun experience, with wide range of dishes, introducing over 30 different ingredients and vegetables.

Please join us to enjoy a relaxing and interesting evening with our friends at CIBI.

We look forward to seeing you soon.

Best regards

CIBI team"

Lured by the promise of free food and education, Simon and I breezed in right on time, ready for our little evening adventure. The following pictures are courtesy of Simon and his DSLR camera. (I really should enlist his services and/or his camera more often...)

Shelves upon shelves of seasonal ingredients greeted us cheerily as we walked in... a beautifully rustic sight to behold.

seasonal fruits and vegetables galore at cibi's "touch the heart" event.

We were each given a plate with specific instructions on how to navigate the buffet. This is not an eat-all-you-can circus! All the dishes were already arranged on the tables in individual portions to be lifted into our plates, in specifically designated spots, to be treasured and savoured.

We started off with a scoop of chestnut rice, and then we each got to pick a main, which consisted of either a small piece of miso fish, a ginger chicken meatball or a teriyaki tofu round. Once that was done, we moved on to the sides. We helped ourselves to a portion each of the pickled daikon and purple carrot, the eggplant and chickpea stew, and the mushroom, persimmon and chrysanthemum leaf salad. There were also cups of root vegetable soup, as well as tea (I believe it was of the hojicha variety).

I really enjoyed the food - light and gentle, they had a soul-soothing quality to them, as well as a balanced sense of care and thoughtfulness. I felt - somehow - intrinsically nourished.

a petite but well-balanced meal at cibi's "touch the heart" tasting night.

I also participated in the onigiri workshop, where we basically had to try to emulate what the lady at the booth was doing to create triangle rice balls. No prizes for guessing who's who in the picture!

onigiri workshop at cibi's "touch the heart" event.

My finished product was an appropriate representation of my fumbling efforts. I clearly won't be quitting my day job anytime soon to be an onigiri master. Nor a hand model, for that matter. (P.S. The specks on my fingers are the delicious remnants of bonito flakes that I failed to incorporate fully into my onigiri.)

eating, learning, and making onigiri (the latter with limited success)...

To finish, we had desserts. It was a beguiling selection. Kinako (roasted soybean flour) cookies and matcha (green tea) cookies, earthy and crumbly. Adzuki bean chocolate ganache pieces, rich yet delicate - a delightful revelation.

an assortment of desserts to cap off cibi's "touch the heart" event.

I walked away that night with renewed inspiration, Cibi's philosophies lingering in my mind. I vowed that I would continue to try my best to celebrate the diversity of different ingredients, to stay true to them, and to combine them with holistic sensitivity. To chew slowly, to linger upon the tastes and textures. To enrich myself, and the environment, through the food I choose to eat.

To create meals that touch the heart.

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odds and ends #1: a few things I tried lately...(goats cheese ravioli, cheese donut, kombucha, lemon myrtle yoghurt)

Too often, I try something here and there, take a few pictures... and then, regrettably, I let the memories languish in my camera.

Well, no more of that! Here's a post on what I've sampled lately, and hopefully this will be the first of many more to come.

I rarely mention product names and brands in my blog, so just to make it clear - since this post does break from the norm - as per everything else I've written about in my blog thus far, I purchased all these items with my own money, and I have not been paid to write about them.

Now, boring statements aside, let's get on to the FOOD.

Earlier this year, my capoeira group did a pasta drive to raise funds for our annual year-end festival. I was a little skeptical at first. Why is it called Alligator Brand and is it going to be any good? I soon realise my ignorance when I did a bit of research and find out that they actually have a pretty awesome reputation. I put in an order for 4 kilograms of pasta and 6 jars of napoli pasta sauce - it's all for a good cause, right? - and wait eagerly for the delivery.

Well, I can tell you that for days afterwards, Simon and I were both devouring pasta for lunch and dinner. And we weren't complaining one bit. On weekdays I would text Simon after work - "I'm coming over tonight. LET'S HAVE PASTA!" - and these pasta dates would inevitably end in debaucherous pasta weekends spent together in a pasta haze. We got the goats cheese & pesto ravioli, and the spinach & ricotta tortellini. They were both excellent, and quite similar, with a toothsome bite and sexy, creamy fillings. The goats cheese ravioli, in particular, despite the insufficient specks of pesto, was an utter joy of tender, pillowy goodness. The gentle tartness of the rich red napoli sauce pulled it all together with simple elegance.

Just in case any of my capoeira friends are reading this, can we do the pasta drive again? Pretty please? It's so much better than the chocolate drive. (Yes, I said it.)

fresh, fresh pasta - goats cheese and pesto ravioli and spinach and ricotta tortellini from Alligator brand.

As you may be able to tell, I could rave about pasta forever, but let's move on to something else. A month ago, I stumbled upon cheese store and laboratory La Latteria. My hands were full at the time, but I couldn't walk on without buying something from their fascinating array of specialty cheese and dairy products, so I got myself a cheese donut studded with delicious sun-dried tomato and basil. It's a little bit on the salty side, but also quite addictive. I hear their burrata (mozzarella filled with curd and cream) is drool-worthy and that's what I'll be getting next time, along with, perhaps, some of their very wholesome looking non-homogenised milk.

cheese donut with sundried tomato and basil, from La Latteria.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I went on a major shopping spree at Ripe the Organic Grocer, and got a bunch of things that caught my eye. One of them was a bottle of kombucha, a fermented tea beverage that is touted for it's health-giving properties. It reminds me of a diluted and slightly fizzy apple cider vinegar not just in its pungent, acidic taste but also in appearance, right down to the wispy bits of mother-culture in it. The one I got is by Mojo.

Mojo lemon citrus kombucha with living cultures.

I was also intrigued by a jar of Marrook Farm lemon myrtle yoghurt that day. One of my favourite soaps has the natural fragrance of lemon myrtle essential oils, so I have to admit, when I first tried this, the connection was a little unsettling. I got used to it after a while, though, and grew to rather enjoy that lemony herbal sharpness in the beautifully silky yoghurt  - an assertive yet gentle accompaniment to my morning muesli.

biodynamic full-cream lemon myrtle yoghurt from Marrook Farm.

So that's it for my first Odds and Ends post. I hope you have enjoyed reading about my latest finds, and I look forward to sharing more of my discoveries with you in the future. Till then, feel free to share some of your odds and ends with me, too, in the comments below...

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egg, shallot & samphire salad with smoky lemon dressing

The slender, knobbly green fingers beckoned.

"Try us," they beseech. "You've never tried us before."

It's true, I hadn't. Oh, I knew of samphire, of course. I've heard about the languid foraging excursions undertaken by intrepid food-lovers; I've spied them on the slickly written menus in expensive restaurants. But they were so quaint and far removed from my regular life that for all I was concerned they could be a made-up ingredient from a fairy tale.

marsh samphire, also known as sea asparagus.

It turns out they are quite real, and I have finally met them in the flesh. The label on the packet instructs, slightly awkwardly: "This unique vegetable, to be used steamed. Yummy in stir-fries or blanched and used as a bed under seafood."

I broke off a small piece and ate it raw, to give myself an inkling of what I was getting into. So what did it taste like? Imagine a crunchy, hollow vegetable shaped like a spindly, rugged drinking straw that's absolutely zonked out on sea water, and that's pretty much what marsh samphire is. Given how briny it was, I decided to boil it, hoping to strip away some of the excess salt. This seemed to help a little, but it was still very salty, and I can see that this is one ingredient that could require a nifty balancing act.

So this is what I did, based on what I already have at home. I boiled four eggs until their yolks were just set, then peeled and sliced them, rejoicing at their creamy, vibrant orange goodness. For the dressing, I sloshed together some lemon juice with extra virgin olive oil, swirled through a sexy dose of smoked Spanish paprika, and then, spying a shallot on the counter, chopped that up, too, and flung it in. It's tangy, it's smoky, it's savoury - what's not to love?

These joined forces proved to be a good match for the samphire. The tart and spicy dressing tamed the excessive saltiness, and the eggs, in their simplicity, were calm and gentle amongst the veritable ocean of flavours. I would definitely make this again.

egg, shallot & samphire salad with a spicy, smoky, tangy lemon dressing.

egg, shallot & samphire salad with smoky lemon dressing
(makes 2 light serves)

50g marsh samphire / sea asparagus
1 shallot, finely chopped
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon Spanish hot smoked paprika (Pimenton de la Vera, Picante)*
4 large medium-boiled or hard-boiled eggs, sliced

Trim and discard the tough, fibrous stems near the root end of the samphire stalks. Roughly snip the samphire into shorter sections to make them more manageable when eating.
Bring a pot of water to boil, then throw in the samphire and let it cook for 2 - 3 minutes. Drain, then lightly rinse the samphire with cold water.
Mix shallot, extra virgin olive oil, lemon juice and Spanish hot smoked paprika to create a dressing.
Toss the samphire with half the dressing, then top with egg slices and drizzle with remaining dressing. No need to add salt!

You can have this salad for breakfast or brunch with some buttered toast - if you like, you can tear the toast into pieces and scatter them through the salad. This would work very, very well indeed. Alternatively, you could also serve it with any meal as a punchy little side dish.

*Pimenton de la Vera aka Spanish smoked paprika can usually be found at specialty and gourmet food stores, spice shops, or Spanish grocery stores. In lieu of the hot (Picante) version, you may use the mild, sweet version (Dulce) or medium, bittersweet version (Agridulce).

P.S. I love the dressing in this dish. It flavours the eggs beautifully, and if you don't have samphire, feel free to improvise with other vegetables - I imagine green beans, broccolini or asparagus would work well. The only difference is that you will probably want to season with a pinch of salt if using these substitutes.

I purchased my samphire from The Vegetable Connection in Fitzroy. The samphire is packaged by Outback Pride (please see their site for a list of other stockists in Australia). Note - they seem to pop up in the shops quite sporadically, so get ready to pounce if/when you see them!

egg, shallot & samphire salad with lemon, hot smoked paprika and extra virgin olive oil.

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phat brats, fitzroy

I live south of the river, Simon the north. Neither of us own a car.

I'm usually the one tramming it to his place, and whilst it can sometimes be a bit of a chore, I don't mind too much. Let's face it, life can be exciting when you're seeing someone who lives in the vicinity of Brunswick Street. Exciting in an "oh my dog where shall I eat tonight?!" kind of way.

Phat Brats (320 Brunswick St, Fitzroy) is a new kid in town and I remember anticipating its opening when I first observed the sign on the window earlier this year. With a chain-store-like appearance, albeit one that is sleek and dark, Phat Brats, unsurprisingly, is all about the hot dogs and fries. Snazzy gourmet combinations are rife, with vegetarian dog options (pumpkin, ricotta, & tarragon, or bean, lentil & veggie) if you're not into meat. The buns come in classic, seeded and gluten-free. The fries are beer-battered and are available with house-made seasoning, cheese or chilli. 

I like how the Phat Brats boys strive for natural, wholesome ingredients and source them locally. I also like how the hot dogs come sliced neatly in half - perfect for sharing! But what I really, really love is their fries. I've been there twice now, and if you want a summary of my experiences, it's this: the hot dogs may be what initially attracted me to Phat Brats, but it's probably their fries that will keep me coming back.

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's move on to the individual items we've sampled.

Simon the sauerkraut lover quickly decided upon the beer-soaked bratwurst on our first visit. We both agreed that it was a decent dog, if not particularly memorable.

local beer soaked brat sausage with sauteed onions, sauerkraut, bavarian mustard and green pickle relish, $8.90.

The wagyu beef and black pepper wasn't as juicy and fatty as I would expect from a wagyu-based sausage, but I did like the crowning touch of crispy shallots, and the horseradish cream was lovely, though I think Simon got more of that on his half, while mine was a little lacking. So unfair!

wagyu beef and black pepper sausage with house gravy, raw slaw, crisp shallots and horseradish cream, $8.90.

But all is forgiven when I tried the chilli fries. "Wow, these fries are really good," I say to Simon as I shovel them down. Ruggedly crisp and fluffy, they were a textural triumph. The chilli sauce was pretty spicy, but I like the heat. Simon, however, claims that he is not the biggest fan of fries with chilli - hurrah, more for me!

chilli fries (comes with either spicy ground beef or spicy bean mix), $7.

We visited again a few weeks later with our friend Georgina. She went for the cheesy smoked kransky, and it was the first to arrive at the table. Compared to the other dogs we'd observed, this one was HUGE. The potato salad topping also made it quite fiddly to eat, but from all accounts she found it satisfying.

cheesy smoked kransky sausage with german potato salad, dill pickles and bavarian mustard, $8.90.

The spicy chorizo was up next. The pairing of beans and sour cream made this snag feel more Mexican than Spanish, but I'm cool with that. It's hard to go wrong with that punchy arrangement.

spicy spanish pork sausage with pinto beans, shredded lettuce, sour cream, jalapenos and house tomato sauce, $8.90.

The pork and sage is quite possibly our favourite out of all the ones we've tried so far. I'm not convinced by the airy, flaxen crackling - I usually go for the dark and handsome kind - but overall, with the salad and aioli, this was a beguilingly fresh and sophisticated dog with a gentle disposition. Totally the sort you'd take home to meet your parents.

pork and sage sausage with braised apple and red cabbage, shaved fennel, pork crackling and aioli, $8.90.

Last but not least, cheesy fries. The fries were just as good as they were the last time, again with that moreish bite - and the sultry bechamel sauce made this a winner all around, so I had to make sure that Simon doesn't steal more than his share. Though you can't really blame him if he tried.

cheesy fries, $6.

Considering how conveniently located they are for us, I think I can safely say that there will most definitely be a third visit to Phat Brats - I've got my eye on the chicken and thyme snag, and the po' boy. Plus more of those fries, of course.



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