Monthly Archives: April 2012

Cafe Sarabella

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Cafe Sarabella, 1 Victoria St, Coburg. Phone: 9354 5239

Soul food was originally a term used to describe Afro-American food of quite a wide range cooked and eaten in the southern parts of the US, although given the migratory patterns of last century it’s easily found on both coasts and elsewhere as well.

Soul food, though, is also a perfect description for Cafe Sarabella – not just the delicious food, but also the cafe itself and the warmly welcoming vibe.

It’s situated in Victoria St Mall, which is a lively and lived-in community space.

About half the outdoor tables and chairs seem to be the territory of the various food joints that line the mall, the rest public and communal.

There’s cafes, a couple of hot looking falafel joints, a deli and more.

Every time I’ve been there the mall is chockers with locals of a dizzy range of ages, styles and national origins hanging out, often over coffee.

Cafe Sarabella – it’s named after a mother and daughter team – has been open for about seven years and serves terrific Indian food and a more.

There’s lamb dishes of Persian and Moroccan derivation, for instance, and a chicken laksa. You can get a masala dosa, too.

It’s a tiny, homely space, with seating for maybe half a dozen inside and two small outside tables.

There’s nothing small about the big-hearted and friendly service, though.

Sara, who originally hails from Kerala, runs Indian cooking classes on one Sunday a month for $75 a head.

She tells me that much of her food is made using fresh vegetables provided by her customers, so much of it is organic. In return, she either pays them or feeds them!

One such customer-inclined item is the incredible feijoa, cumquat and tomato chutney that accompanies my vegetable thali ($10.50).

It’s supremely tangy, spicy super dooper condiment.

The rest of my plate’s contents are just as fine …

Two vegetable curries, one with radish, carrots and zucchini, the other with baby carrots and green beans.

Big dollop of creamy yogurt.

Plain yet perfect yellow dal atop the rice.

The surprise is provided by melt-in-your-mouth silky tofu pieces perfectly matched with a spiced tomatoey gravy.

While many of the curries and other dishes listed on the blackboard menu are priced as main courses, Sara tells me she’s happy to assemble combo-style thali meals to suit.

Given the hefty customer input and the consequent seasonal aspect of the food here, I suspect there’s many a surprise to be had by regular visitors.

As we’re talking, she lets me try a mouthful of spud from the lamb and potato curry sitting atop the stove – it’s amazing!

But the most appealing thing about Cafe Sarabella is that it serves pure-bred home-cooked Indian food – so different from the often tasty but overly buttery, salty and rich fare served up by so many of our Indian restaurants.

There’s no fried food here – even the samosas are baked.

The Quince Poacher, a Coburg local, is a fan, too – read review here.

Open for lunch Monday-Saturday.

Cafe Sarabella on Urbanspoon

Antipasti Deli Cafe

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Antipasti Deli Cafe, 1 High St, Yarraville. Phone: 9318 0103

Yarraville Square Shopping Centre is the nearest shopping centre to our home, yet we rarely use it.

A well-stocked Coles with frequently long queues, a bottle shop, average chicken joint, a Subway – there’s not much there for us and the way we do.

Searching for details and information, this quip came up:

On a quiet night, the northern end of the parking lot affords a lovely view of the Subway store.

Turns out we’ve been missing a real gem the whole time.

When we visit for a Sunday lunch, Antipasti Deli Cafe is busy in a fetching way.

Locals and regulars are coming and going, picking up lunch makings and coffee, keeping the place humming and the staff busy.

The shop is quite small but stocked with a comprehensive range of goodies.

I suspect this place serves as a much-appreciated point for many folks putting together short-term shopping and evening meals when a full-on visit to the supermarket is not possible or warranted.

There’s all sorts of filled rolls and pies.

There’s the Sunday papers.

There’s all a good range of antipasti, cheese and dips.

There’s pasta and sauces and oils and a limited range of fresh produce.

The display of packaged biscotti and other sweeties is alluring.

There’s pasta sauces to take away – tomato, bolognese, pesto – all  for under $6.

There’s some tables inside and another half dozen or so outside.

Outside, too, there’s flowers and freezers offering all sorts of gelati and ice-cream stuff.

Antipasti Deli Cafe does cooked breakfasts, but we’re here for lunch … and what better than an antipasto platter for two, as befits the establishment’s name?

I really love the way Bennie has taken to these exercises in yumminess.

We adore the $21 spreads we get at Barkly Johnson, but a recent lacklustre and more pricey serving at a revered Carlton business showed him just how standards and quality can vary.

An earlier visit has ascertained from the boss, Fab, that they have two antipasto spreads – $15 for one and $28 for two.

We tell him that $28 sounds like too much food for we two, so he agrees to create something at the $20 mark just for us.

He may have given some weight to our lunch in the knowledge that photos are going to be taken and words are going to be written, but we are well pleased.

Our platter is meat heavy – good ham and prosciutto, some mild salami, some mortadella.

We use mortadella for week-day lunch sandwiches and rolls, so Bennie leaves it for me – and even I struggle.

The olive quotient is varied and includes large and red items we’ve never seen before. Unlike some big olives, these taste fine.

Bennie has taken a liking to artichokes, so he has his way with ours – meaning I get to scarf the tiny marinated mushrooms.

There’s two breads slices topped with what I believe is generally referred to as tomato pesto.

The two chargrilled eggplant slices are claimed by myself, while the cheese factor is represented by two globules of buffalo mozzarella.

We both like the sundried tomatoes with pesto.

I’m unsure how much of what we eat is prepared on the premises and how much is simply cracked out of bottles and other containers – but it all tastes good to us.

We finish with a good cafe latte for me and a hot chocolate for him that he opines lacks the required level of sweetness.

Could be we will become Antipasti Deli Cafe regulars.

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Passing thoughts …

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This week Bennie’s school teacher had her class consider meat – how animals become food, and some of the dynamics, processes and ethics involved.

I remain unsure of the full gist of the session, but it certainly had the lad thinking seriously about meat.

So that night, driving home, we stood back and looked at our own involvement with and consumption of meat.

I cooked Bennie and I steaks once, but it’s so long ago I can only dimly remember the event.

Lamb or pork chops happen in our home about once a year.

Overwhelmingly, our meat use is very much in the spirit of the places we eat out at and the shopping we do and the food traditions that inform them.

Whether it be a meaty ham bone for red beans ‘n’ rice or black-eyed peas; chorizo or Polish sausage for soups or stews; or chicken bones for stock, our meaty habits are all about flavour rather than hunky chunky slabs of flesh.

Not that we’re averse to such, but our homecooking habits have just naturally evolved.

We eat good-quality franks or classy Italian snags about once a week, roast chicken bits with rosemary, garlic and lemon about once a year … and I’ve never ever cooked a roast.

Indeed, our use of pulses, fresh fruit and vegetables and cereals and their byproducts so greatly outweighs that of meat that we actually adhere – albeit by accident – to the good food pyramid.

OK, we both have sweet tooths and we use pastrami and mortadella and so on for our school/work lunches.

Nevertheless, our routines are a long, long way from those of my own meat-heavy Kiwi childhood.

For that we are undoubtedly indebted to rainbow of food traditions that surround us.

I had a reminder last week that those traditions are far from set in stone.

I was buying some moong dal and beans and Indian snacks from one of the Indo groceries on Barkly St.

The man being served ahead of me was making sure he had the right kinds of flours to make injera.

When my turn came, I asked the woman serving me if they got a lot of customers seeking injera makings.

“Oh yes – quite a lot,” she said with a big smile.

Of course – broadening the customer base is good for business!

Just as Johns Nuts & Deli is also tapping into the African community.

I’m fascinated by how through sheer necessity the food traditions of new and newer Australians overlap and merge and evolve in an Australian context.

While rivalries and enmities between various home countries and ethnic groups no doubt continue to hold sway in some quarters, I’d like to believe that by and large most folks just get on with business of living – and eating.

Such a dynamic is nothing new, of course, as the by now familiar combo of pizza shop and kebab shack attests.

***

Among the many benefits of running Consider The Sauce is having a more hands-on and in-depth view of the workings of the fabulous internet.

A nonchalant “think piece” I posted about seafood extender and surimi, for instance, appears to have become one of a handful of default, “go to” posts for those seeking information about those subjects through Google and other search engines.

Visitors thus finding us, especially if they would not otherwise have done so, are most welcome, of course.

But it seems a little weird and scary that such an inexpert authority as myself should be accorded such status.

Especially as a somewhat better informed post detailing a follow-up visit to Austrimi in Geelong is not attracting the same amount of interest.

Also continuing to attract a lot of visitors, no doubt almost all of whom would never otherwise set foot in Consider The Sauce, is our post on Aldi.

I was bemused by the latest of quite a few comments, this one unintentionally seeming to be both illogical and contradictory on at least two counts:

just remember not everyone can afford woolies and coles, and not everyone likes interactions and has time to waste and walk about the supermarket smiling at people….some of us have more important things to do, like work, clean, cook, look after kids…plus who cares if you dont like it…i know i dont. go shop somewhere else!

This week, Consider The Sauce got a lot of referrals from alternative music community and online magazine Mess+Noise.

The reason?

Some of that site’s forum members re-activated a five-year-old thread on the ups and downs of living in Footscray, and in the process one of them posted a link to our, um, review of the new IGA.

The punter who posted the link, seemingly with a perspective of seeing that IGA as a sort of pop culture emporium, opined: “Though blog person is wrong to criticise the IGA … Yeah that blog was written by a parent it seems, which is why it’s no good.”

Fair enough – I can live with that.

Another punter quipped: “what a fulfilling life that person must lead…”

Well, I can live with that, too, and have a chuckle about it.

But it seems a bit rich coming from a conversation/thread that is so superficial and ill-informed!

Finally, this week I was surprised to discover our rather downbeat and negative post on Chadz Chickenhaus in Sunshine had been reblogged by another wordpress.com blogger.

It’s easy to forget, being so heavily Melbourne-focused, that being part of wordpress.com makes us part of a very large worldwide community, which sometimes leads to surprising visits and inter-reactions, and not all of them from foodies either.

Turns out that in this case it was a mistake – the blogger involved had reblogged rather than “liking” our post.

No matter, for in the process I discovered a most wonderful blog – Salt For Vanilla.

Packed with delicious recipes and photographs – many of them Filipino or otherwise Asian – it is fabulous work by someone who appears to be a seriously good cook.

First Saturday morning barbecue of the new rugby season.

Safari Restaurant

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Safari Restaurant, 159 Union Rd, Ascot Vale. Phone: 9372 7175

It’s been far too long since we’ve sailed in the Safari – certainly at least since our early review of this fine Somalian eatery.

So long, in fact, we’re not even sure if it’ll be functioning as we remember on this Friday night with appetites inspired by some overdue winter outfitting.

The Consider The Sauce boys have been shopping and are hungry.

Happily, as we enter we discover everything is as we remember it. Indeed, the place seems busier than was the case on any of our previous visits.

The menu, however, seems to have been streamlined somewhat, but as we soon learn – to our complete and joyful satisfaction – the food is the same and just as good as ever.

We toy with idea of ordering Big Mandy Rice For Two ($32), but this is described to us in terms of being good for big fellas, very hungry.

So we back off and discover there’s a menu item just made for us – The Regular ($13).

This consists of a plate of Mandy Rice and your choice of lamb, beef, chicken steak or fish.

As on previous visits, our bowls of their incredible meat soup are brought before we’ve even placed our order proper.

This is a broth of lip-smacking sensations – spicy, heady with meatiness yet light on meat itself.

It’s simply wonderful.

Bennie’s chicken steak – hidden under a tasty array of grilled sautéed carrot, capsicum and onion – is more plentiful than it looks. The chicken meat is tending towards dryness but falls short enough of that to pass for tender, and has a wonderful charred-like flavour.

I like his chicken, he digs my lamb.

The sheep meat has form and structure yet is far from chewy and falls easily from the bones.

In both our cases, the rice is splendid – cooked in stock, spiced, every grain glistening.

As ever, our meals are helped along by long, tall glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice clinking with ice cubes.

Killer soup, terrific meat, sensational rice, just the right kind of vegetable accompaniment, freshly squeezed juice … $13.

This is a fantastic bargain.

The service here is friendly but efficient.

We can’t recommend Safari highly enough to anyone hankering for African eating a bit different from Footscray’s mostly Ethiopian fare.

Safari on Urbanspoon

Sharma’s Indian Sweet & Curry House

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Sharma’s Indian Sweet & Curry House, 4/350 Taylors Rd, Taylors Lakes. Phone: 9356 4400

A spur-of-the-moment email earlier in the week had ascertained that, yes indeed, we had pals only too eager to join the Consider The Sauce boys for an Anzac Day lunch feast.

After a bit of umming and ahhing, we settle on Sharma’s Indian Sweet & Curry House in Taylors Lakes – it’s a bit of a drive, but all hands are keen.

Those hands being Bennie and his dad; Bruce and his daughter, Maddy, who joined us for a memorable Saturday lunch not so long ago and who this time bring the other sibling, Josie, along for the fun; and our pal Nat, a sort of Mr Prolific of Urbanspoon. 

As it turns out, Anzac Day weather is of extreme suckiness, so what better way to spend the day than heading out on a curry adventure?

I’d visited Sharma’s on my ownsome some time ago, but am pleased that everyone is keen as I am to pursue the rather extensive menu further.

First up, we are delivered a bowl of freshly fried papadums.

They’re oily but crisp. Best of all, they’re on the house – and good on management for that, easily producing some goodwill at little cost where other eateries see only a chance for more profit.

It takes a while, but we knuckle down with a rather broad order that we hope will please everyone at least some of the time and leave us all happily contented.

Here’s what we get:

Atish bahaar sizzler ($16.50) – two each of samosas, onion bhaji, aloo tikki and veg pakora.

Special goat curry ($13.50).

Chicken butter cream ($12.50).

Tava chicken ($12.50) – a curry with herbs, spices, coriander and ginger.

Singapore Punjab noodles ($11.50).

Two serves of plain rice ($3.50 each)

Four plain naan ($2 each).

We order mild levels of spiciness to fit in with Bennie, who has become a bit gun shy of chilli in the past few months. Mild we get, to the, um, mild disappointment of some – especially Josie, who turn out to be something of a Spice Princess!

The snack combo platter (top picture) is very fine – good value for sharing, with a variety of different flavours and textures, and all for the most part remarkably grease-free.

It becomes a bit messy as we try to make sure each of us has taste of each component, but it’s all good fun.

The various fried snacks are served with some tamarind syrup and a mint relish that is less creamy and more spicy and piquant than those normally found in Indian restaurants. It’s a beaut flavour hit.

The chicken butter cream (left) and special goat curry (right) find favour with those who lobbied for their inclusion.

Those digging the goat concoction agree that the bone-sucking involved in meals made with cheaper cuts of meat is priceless.

The tava chicken is nice enough, too, though to me seems to symbolise the curries generally – very much of the onion/tomato/cream/spices gravy base and less of the spectacularly individual dishes we have enjoyed lately at Mishra’s Kitchen and Yummy India. Though both those places do your standard curry house recipes as well.

Singapore Punjab noodles – unsurprisingly when you think about the connections – is basically just a vegetarian mee goreng. It’s nice, though, and adds a bit of variety, colour, contrast and vegetable matter to our meal.

Our plain naan breads are fine specimens of their kind.

As Bruce says, ordering them is a good way to find out if a curry house has its mojo going.

We’ve all enjoyed a lovely lunch.

Aside from the already mentioned curry uniformity, I’d also point out that the serves are rather modest and the meat quotient on the low side.

No matter, really – everyone is happy to adhere to the spirit of “it’s not the meat, it’s the gravy” by mopping up the sauces with the naan.

Moreover, the reasonable prices and the power of numbers means the bill comes to a very excellent $83 – or about $14 each.

We all have a gander at Sharma’s wide sweets range before buying some to take back to our respective homes and heading out into the bleak Melbourne day.

Thanks for the company!

Sharma's Indian Sweet & Curry House on Urbanspoon

Stuff we’re just about OK with …

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Not every eating out outing is perfect, of course.

But thankfully, those that are so noteworthy they generate a reluctant review of mostly negativity are extremely rare.

In between, the vast majority of our adventures – and, we suspect, those of my most of our friends and visitors – mix and match some combination of the good and the great and the sensational with minor irritants of all kinds.

Such is the small price we pay for our natural inclination towards cheap eats, ethnic tucker and Melbourne’s western suburbs.

We roll with such punches, sometimes with a philosophical shrug, sometimes with a hearty half-full outlook that what some folks may conclude is naff or nasty can, too, be seen as heralding excellence on its way.

INSECTS

Actually, there’s no way we’re OK about creepy crawlies of any kind in or near our food … at all.

Thankfully, though, there hasn’t been a single such incident since Consider The Sauce hit the road and none before that. Well, none we can recall.

But we don’t want to ever see cockroaches in our soup. Nor do we want to observe them scampering across the floor or up our table legs.

And we’re almost as equally unhappy about seeing belly-up dead flies gathered in ghastly communion on a nearby window sill, as we did at a certain westie noshery not so long ago.

If we ever make landfall in one the Asian nations where insects and other creepy crawlies are deliberately and enjoyably consumed, we’ll re-assess.

Given that my understanding is that in such cultures insects are almost always deep-fried and end up being crunchy … well, I can think of plenty of things I’d contemplate with even less relish. Woof!

THE TIME FACTOR

Often, the staffing situations at our kind of eateries seem to be as haphazard as adherence to the advertised opening hours.

And, depending on what we order, wait times can vary wildly – even for the same food on successive visits.

We’re mostly prepared to patient.

And when we’re not – if we’re headed for a movie, say, or for some other commitment, or if it’s already late on a week night and we’re keen to eat and get home – we’re these days well practised at telling the staff that that is the situation.

Equally, we’re comfortable with inquiring which dishes can be delivered to our table the most speedily, and ordering accordingly.

THE BILL BEING GREATER THAN THE COMBINED PRICES AS LISTED ON THE MENU

Sadly, this has happened a couple of times recently.

In one case, it wasn’t until after we were way down the road that I realised.

In another, I was simply too happy basking in the glow of a fine meal – or perhaps too cowardly – to raise the issue.

In both cases, the surreptitious increase was about $1 a dish.

From what I’ve read, the standard line from restaurants who perpetrate this sneaky practice is: “The prices have gone up – these are the new prices.”

Not good enough, of course; not nearly good enough.

This leaves you, me and all the other customers with the invidious choice of spoiling a lovely meal by making an issue of it or leaving with a metaphorical sour tastes in our mouths.

But I suspect it’s a practice that will continue.

I plan on training myself to ask whether the menu prices are those that will appear on our bill.

MUSIC

Can be good, can be bad, can see us fleeing for the exit.

We’re flexible and can even appreciate a wide range of sounds, depending on the context.

But there are limits – in both taste and volume.

We have been known to seek an adjustment in the latter.

The former is usually beyond hope and a sign that’s it’s time to look elsewhere.

GETTING WHAT WE HAVEN’T ORDERED

Somewhat surprisingly, while this may seem like a disaster, it’s one we’re known to accept rather amiably.

There have been more than a few times when we’ve undoubtedly ended up with a better meal than we otherwise may’ve experienced through our order being misunderstood or otherwise screwed up.

SERVIETTES 1

It’s one of the great mysteries – why restaurant staff so overload those vertical stainless-steel serviette holders that it is impossible to get one out in a single piece. We end up with a table full of shredded paper and a distraction from an otherwise nice meal.

SERVIETTES 2

This one is a specialty of our beloved Vietnamese restaurants, many of which uses boxes of tissues instead of regular serviettes.

We have no issue with this practice at all – apart from the fact the tissues are very thin, so you can go through just about a whole boxful in the course of a really hands-on meal.

The problems arise when contents of the tissue box drops to lowly levels and the next one no longer sticks up through the plastic slit.

This means interrupting the good times of chowing down, waggling fingers through the hole and – finally, and in desperation – turning the box upside down and banging and cursing until a tissue appears.

UNFIZZY SOFT DRINKS

We try really, really hard to stick with water for budget reasons.

But when we to succumb to our lust for the sweet stuff, we like it to be a can – especially when they’re priced at $2 or, even better and still sometimes stumbled upon, $1.50.

The pits is being charge $2.50 and even more for a tumbler of that Coca Cola stuff that has obviously come from a bottle that’s been sitting in the fridge since half past last century, has zero bubbles and jostles with too much ice.

DOOR DRAFTS

We don’t do fine dining, so the heating and airconditioning situations we confront are erratic to say the least – or climate control is just plain absent.

We happily know and accept this.

It does become somewhat tiresome, though, when management has gone to the time, trouble and expense of installing heating and/or cooling, that its benefits are continually disrupted by other customers leaving the door open to hellish blasts of heat or bone-chilling storms.

On writing a negative review

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Writing a negative review yesterday provided me no pleasure whatsoever.

There was a strong impulse to just forget about it.

Like, I presume, the majority of food bloggers, I overwhelmingly want to talk about the food we really love and the places we adore that make it for us.

As well, because we pay for our meals-out, getting a bad or even indifferent meal is a downer of the kind we’ll certainly go out of our way to avoid.

So why go ahead and write the review anyway?

Well, for starters, this was a planned outing with a review as the planned outcome.

It hardly seemed fitting with the Consider The Sauce ethos to just slink away because there were some notable rough spots in my experience.

As well, there is what I think of as the Pollyanna Factor.

I much prefer writing about food that turns me on.

And I am enormously proud of the our western suburbs food culture, am totally grateful to be part of it, want to see it bloom and for the rest of the world to learn how great we have it here.

But I remain convinced that making out everything is good, grand or fine – or only writing about those places that genuinely are – is foolish.

Earlier this year, I started following a newish Melbourne food blog.

The big-hearted person involved covers a lot of ground and is very prolific, not to mention sincere.

But they oh-so-obviously subscribe to the “if you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything” school of thought.

I stopped reading that blog weeks ago.

There is no incentive to read the reviews and posts when you know beforehand almost exactly what is going to be said.

And how much credibility can one grant a media outlet for which there is only the big thumb’s up?

I’m almost sure it’s not the case, but you could be excused for thinking the blog consists of little more than what are referred to in the blogging business as “paid posts”.

To be reliably meaningful, high praise on a frequent basis seems to require the sort of context that can only be provided by the occasional bad rap.

Country style beans

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This is a straight rendition – with a few tweaks, noted below – of the foundation bean recipe found in Michelle Sicolone’s fabulous book, 1,000 Italian Recipes.

It’s also something of a departure for me.

I am so used to finely dicing aromatic vegetables and making them an integral part of my pot dishes that leaving them unchopped, using them for, um, aromatic purposes and then discarding them feels a little weird.

But I’m prepared to give it a shot.

Truth is, despite cooking a variety of pulse dishes drawing on South Louisiana, Indian and Italian traditions, I often find the textures, look and flavours do end up with a certain degree of same-iness because of the way I habitually use the vegetables.

This will be something different.

And if the beans end up as creamy and smooth as advertised, they may be a hit with Bennie.

INGREDIENTS

500g cannellini beans

1 carrot, trimmed

1 celery rib with leaves

1 onion

2 garlic cloves

2 tbsp olive oil

Salt

METHOD

1. Soaks beans overnight

2 Drain beans, place in pot and cover by at least an inch with water.

3. Bring to boil.

4. Reduce heat to low and skim off foam.

5. Add vegetables and olive.

6. Cover pot and simmer for 1 1/2-2 hours, adding more water of needed, until beans are very tender and creamy.

7. Add salt.

8. Discard vegetables.

This is a batch of beans that is started before noon yet not destined for eating until our evening meal, so there is no rush and I can let things unfold naturally and observe with interest.

It seems to take a while for any great degree of assimilation to start taking place, but when it kicks in, it is comprehensive. What seems for a long time to be too watery by far ends up being just right.

When it comes time to discard the vegetables, I simply can’t go whole hog.

I finely dice the carrot and back in it goes, joining the obliterated celery leaves in providing some colour.

These are, indeed, by far the smoothest, creamiest beans I have EVER cooked – I only wish I could do so well with black eyed peas and, especially, red beans ‘n’ rice.

They are very plain, though, to the point of austerity – and that’s with the salt and a couple of non-recipe-mandated shakes of freshly ground black pepper.

As such, they’d be sensational as a side dish to, say, sausages or pork chops.

The second bean recipe in 1,000 Italian Recipes is Tuscan beans, in which the garlic is used but the other vegetables are replaced with rosemary or sage.

I like the idea of combining both recipes.

We have these beans with toasted Zeally Bay sourdough casalinga rubbed with garlic and brushed with virgin olive oil.

Chadz Chickenhaus

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Chadz Chickenhaus, 475 Ballarat Rd, Sunshine.

It seems I may have hit Chadz Chickenhaus at a not particularly auspicious time.

There’s quite a few people milling about the front counter/bain-marie, waiting for various takeaway orders. Progress seems to be slow even though staff members are rushing here and there.

Despite having a somewhat rocky relationship with Filipino food, to me the bain-marie contents look pretty good.

But I stick with Plan A – I’ve come here to try their butterflied chicken and chips.

A little under half the tables are occupied, but all of them are littered with debris from previous meals and previous patrons.

Plates, bowls, cutlery, cans, straws, chicken bones and all sorts of food are all over the place – including on the floor.

After I place my order – half chicken chips with a can of soft drink ($10) – things look up as a young man starts to slowly clear the mess away. Slowly but methodically.

He gives it away, though, after clearing every table except mine. The floor stays the same.

I am summoned to the front counter to pick up my meal.

The serviette dispenser is empty.

The chips are poor and not hot enough, and the sweet, sticky sauce from the chicken has about half of them sodden.

I eat most of them anyway, on account of being hungry.

The chicken is just OK – far short of the sensation for which I am hoping. A bit tired and scrappy, lacking zing.

It’s tender enough, though, and the sauce is quite nice.

Average is the word.

As I leave, the scraps of my lunch join those of the table’s previous tenants.

Loving the sort of food we do at Consider The Sauce, and the kind of places that produce it, we learn to not be too fussy, to go with the flow and happily accept and even expect and joyfully embrace ups and down of various kinds with good humour and optimism.

We don’t like, want or expect fine dining or the service levels that go with it.

But … maybe just a bad day, eh?

For a different perspective on Chadz Chickenhaus, check out the review at Footscray Food Blog.

 


Mishra’s Kitchen – another look

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Mishra’s Kitchen, 18 Wembley Ave, Yarraville. Phone: 9314 3336

Our adventures have taken us elsewhere since our first visit to Mishra’s Kitchen, but we are delighted to grab a last-minute opportunity to step out for a quick midweek dinner.

The place still has something of the feel of a sandwich shop, but it’s more Indian restaurant these days.

In any case, we find the vibe charming.

As are the friendliness and service.

Moreover, we tell our waiter that we are here for a quickie bite, not for a night out – it’s already late-ish on a school night and we desire not to tarry.

Our meal comes quickly, efficiently and full of flavour.

Maybe it’s time for a new rule for us – stop ordering stuffed breads.

Our Kashmiri naan ($3.50) and mint paratha ($3.50) are good.

But really, the fillings – a fruity mince in the former, mashed spuds in the latter – seem to add nothing to our eating experience.

Could be plain old chapati, paratha, naan is the way to go for us henceforth – cheaper for sure, and quite possibly more in harmony with the curries we order.

Ordering chicken korma ($11) is an easy choice given Bennie’s enthusiasm based on a delicious experience shared with his mum on another visit.

It’s a good call – this is the sort of distinctive dish that make us love places such Mishra’s Kitchen or Yummy India in Deer Park and their super honey-infused lamb lajawab.

My photo is misleading.

For starters, there’s a lot more chicken in there than appears to be the case.

Nor does the pic convey, of course, the mild yet rich flavour of the gravy.

This korma sauce consists of almonds, cashews, yogurt, a little coconut, mace, white pepper, garlic, ginger and onions.

Also used are kewra water, a sort of Indian version of rose water made with pandanus flowers, and a sprinkling of raisins.

So different, so good!

Aloo gobi ($9) is more along the lines of routine curry house fare – a nice mushy blend of cauliflower, spuds and spices.

I like it fine, Bennie finds it just a tad too spicy.

It’s been lovely to revisit Mishra’s Kitchen and find it can easily fit into the quick meal context.

Chef Sanjeev suggests next time we try one of the fish dishes.

We’ll be taking him up on that – maybe it’ll be way of boosting the lad’s current and profound lack of enthusiasm for just about anything fishy.

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Cajun black eyed peas

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There’s an old joke regarding cajun cooking: “First you chop up the onion, green pepper and celery – then you decide what you gonna cook!”

This is the “trinity” at the heart of so much cajun and creole cooking from South Louisiana and New Orleans.

This differs quite significantly from the aromatic base of so much Italian cooking – the carrot (and sometimes leak) is replaced by the capsicum.

This is all quite odd, and I don’t really understand the science of it.

Some Italian recipes and cookbooks I’ve come across specifically warn against using capsicum in pot-on-stove recipes and stock spots lest it make the dish/stock bitter.

Yet in New Orleans and South Louisiana, the trinity is used incredibly widely – and not just in downhome food like red beans ‘n’ rice and these black eyed peas, but also in fancier fare and restaurant dishes.

This recipe is lifted, with a few tweaks here and there, from John Folse’s The Evolution of Cajun & Creole Cuisine.

Specifically, I use less meat than him – he calls for a pound of “heavy smoked sausage” and “half a pound of smoked ham”.

I use whatever is handy or easy to get hold of – in this case some smoked Polish sausage from Slavonija Continental Butchers.

Truth is, though, even a couple of bacon bones or a couple of crispy-fried rashers of bacon will do.

It’s not about the meat – it’s about the flavour.

And because the black eyed peas have a sort of built-in smokiness anyhow, you can go full-on vegetarian and still have a fine meal.

As with, I suspect, a lot of people, we don’t use a lot of dried basil in our cooking, but it gives this a nice sweetness and helps elevate the household cooking aromas to giddy heights!

Black eyed peas are eaten a whole less than ubiquitous red beans in South Louisiana, but for some reason I have much more success with the former than the latter in making an authentic gravy with the pulses available to me here in Melbourne.

These freeze really well – just thaw out and reheat nice and gentle.

INGREDIENTS

500g black eyed peas

olive oil

meat – smoked sausage, ham, bacon bones, bacon rashers or even bacon fat.

1 cup each approximately of onion, green capsicum and celery

3-4 finely chopped garlic cloves

1 tsp dried basil

bay leaves

salt

freshly ground black pepper

water

parsley

METHOD

1. Soak peas overnight or for the afternoon. Truth is though, black eyed peas cook pretty easily, so at a pinch you can get away without soaking them at all. It’ll just take a bit longer. These particular unsoaked pulses went on the boil at 4.30pm and were ready about an hour and a half later. But even though the peas were cooked through, generally things were still a bit runny and unintegrated, so I kept them going for another hour or so.

2. Put some primo cajun, zydeco or New Orleans R&B or gutbucket jazz on the sound system.

3. Turn up loud.

4. Heat oil and brown off meat or sausage, if you’re using any, at medium-high heat.

5. Finely chop – as finely as your knife skills will allow – the onion, capsicum and celery.

6. When meat is browned, turn down heat to medium and throw in the vegetables and garlic; cook and stir until wilted.

7. Add basil, salt, pepper.

8. Add black eyed peas.

9. Add water so the peas and vegetables are covered at least by an inch. As with dal, it’s important to keep this brew soup-like and watery in the pot so it doesn’t end up claggy and dry on the table.

10. Your black eyed peas are done when some of them start to break up and begin to form a gravy. You can hasten this process by crushing some against the side of the pot with a wooden spoon, but with these particular pulses it shouldn’t be necessary.

11. Cook a while longer to make a really fine and smooth gravy.

12. Just before serving, throw in and mix in a handful of reasonably well chopped parsley.

13. Serve over rice.

14. Add Tabasco or hot sauce of your choice to taste (optional).

Fifty-Six Threads Cafe

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This guest post has been written for us by Consider The Sauce pal Peppy/Karen. You can read her reviews at Urbanspoon here – as you’ll see, she’s very much on the same page us! Thanks for the cool company, fine conversation and the write-up!

Fifty-Six Threads Cafe, 56 Derby St, Kensington. Phone: 9376 6885

This one is a diamond in the rough – newly opened Fifty-Six Threads Café sits at the bottom of the imposing brown public housing block on Derby St in Kensington.

The name is a combination of the street number (56), with the “Threads” representing all of the different cultures and communities entwined like thread – very fitting for the latest social enterprise by AMES in conjunction with Urban Communities, in which the “main objective is to provide employment and training opportunities for new migrants”.

How good is this?  Get a good feed and help those who are new to our shores obtain hospitality skills!

After following Consider The Sauce since moving to the area 12 months ago, I finally got around to telling Kenny how much I liked what he was doing in his blog. Less than a week later we had arranged to meet to check this place out for lunch.

Both Kenny’s blog and Footscray Food Blog have been favourites of mine since moving to this side of the city and they have helped me to discover the amazing places to eat and go to on the west-side, so I am honoured to be able to contribute a review to CTS.

What is nearly as important as the food to me is the service, and this place won me over as soon as I walked in – very friendly and welcoming.

Nothing seemed like too much trouble and I think they were genuinely interested in making sure that we enjoyed our meal there. The fit-out is full of timber and cool suspended lighting – honestly, you could be at any of the fancy new cafes in the area sitting in the sun-drenched dining area.

Now on to the food!

The menu is split into two sections, All Day Breakfast and Weekly Specials.

Sadly the chick pea chips had sold out (cry) so Kenny went with the chick pea, bacon and thyme broth ($8) and I went with the Beetroot tamarind and dill spring rolls ($12).

I must admit I did have a bit of food envy when Kenny’s huge bowl of chick pea goodness arrived – it was a generous serving of bacon and vegetables cooked with garlic, carrot, onion and of course chick peas with two slabs of sourdough just waiting to be dipped in.

However, when my spring rolls arrived I think we both ordered winners.

The substantial cigar-sized spring rolls were filled with chards of rich beetroot that the chef tells me were cooked in a sauce consisting of tamarind and rosewater syrup – I will be on the lookout for a bottle of this when I’m in the Asian grocers next time.

I have a crop full of beetroot at home that I need to use and this was such an awesome way to cook it.  The pastry on the spring rolls was crisp and flaky, the salad was fresh and the orange segments were a great addition.

I love a good mayo, too, and could have probably done with 10 of those little pots as it tasted so good.

I also had a latte, which was from the Social Roasting Company – couldn’t fault it.  They also have a coffee loyalty card system there as well – bonus!

I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to go and check it out for breakfast and lunch the next day, so I dragged the husband out for a snack.

We shared a 56 Threads Breakfast ($15) and the pita bread pizza with chorizo ($8).

OMG you must try this pizza out – it was a cheesy, meaty, saucy plate of awesome.

The breakfast was everything it should be – well cooked and runny poached eggs. Oh and the red onion jam – far out loves it sick – all big breakfasts should come with a serve of this.

And don’t think I didn’t take home a freshly cooked almond and apple muffin, a little slice of baklava and a plum jam tartlet – all amazing.

I wish there were more homemade goodies to take home – I bet those chefs out the back have lots of awesome recipes for cakes and slices – or maybe I just came on a day where they were cleaned out of the cakes.

I honestly just love this kind of initiative that supports the neighbourhood – sometimes I feel that I don’t do enough when it comes to being an involved citizen of my new community.

I wish I had more time and money to give.

When I went to pay (by the way, they accept Visa/Mastercard) I had to double check the amount due – after the quick (bad) calculation in my head I could have sworn I needed to pay more.

The guy behind the counter tells me “it’s not all about the money”.

Amen to that!

It was lovely to meet up with you for lunch Kenny, hopefully more of us western suburbs food addicted bloggers can get together again soon!

Fifty-Six Threads Cafe on Urbanspoon

Corio Bay Roadhouse

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Corio Bay Roadhouse, 383 Melbourne Rd, Corio, Geelong. Phone: 5275 120

The Corio Bay Roadhouse has the look to go with the name.

There are frequently trucks parked outside.

My waitress has a big, wide smile and tattoos on her fingers.

A month or so before my visit, the place had been burgled then torched by the same culprits, but happily this local landmark is up and running again.

Despite having driven past it twice on each working day of the past couple of years, I’ve taken my time about checking this place out.

Maybe that was to do with some of scant online information I was able to find referring to burgers stacked up like soldiers in a bain marie.

Yes, they’re here but there’s plenty of scope for fresh-cooked food, too.

Of course, this being a temple and monument to good nutrition and healthy eating, there’s a lot of frying going on.

Sarcasm aside, this place does good diner-style grub.

If I lived around here, this is where I’d come instead of hitting any of the various franchises that dot this same strip of highway.

My open burger with chip is an immense amount of food for $12.

The chips are good and the bacon really fine and crispy.

The egg is gooey and runny, but I doubt it’s free range.

Given the food genre, I’d happily do without the vegetable quotient and pay even less.

The burger itself is just OK – along the  same lines as those served up by the Embassy Taxi Cafe.

If you want to go without unmeaty trimmings, then the $15 mixed grill could be for you.

Even the magazine rack keeps the ambiance going.

I figure it’s probably a good thing this place is not open when I’m driving past on my way home after a night shift.

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Kenso Kids Every Thing Shop

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Kenso Kids Every Thing Shop, Eastwood St, Kensington (outside Kensington Station).

What a gas it is making the acquaintance of the entrepreneurial spirits behind the Kenso Kids Every Thing Shop.

On this lovely and warm autumn afternoon I find (from left) Finn, Henry, John and Archie taking care of business, with their other partners – Greta, Marcella and Bessie – occupied elsewhere.

They tell me they’ve been in business for about a year, having moved from their home across the way to a beaut spot right outside the Kensington train station.

They tell me their enterprise provides pocket money but that they’ve also been “reinvesting in the business”.

They sell their own homemade brand of lemon cordial – 20 cents a glass or about $1 a bottle depending on size.

It’s a nice but rather mildly flavoured brew, quite sweet but a long way removed from sweet and sour extremes of lemonade of US or Middle Eastern extraction.

They sell the lemons, too, along with herbs from the backyard and eggs from the chooks.

The lads tell me that in deepest winter time it’s a matter of waiting for a fine day.

Today, though, they fully expect to be on the job still when the Richmond and Melbourne fans start returning from the MCG.

I like these guys’ style!

Vote No.1 CTS!

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There’s no doubt many blogs that have entered the Best Australian Blogs 2012 Competition get as many visitors in an hour as little ol’ Consider The Sauce gets in a week or even a month.

So our chances of getting anywhere in the People’s Choice section appear mighty slim.

Nevertheless, if our friends and visitors feel inclined to vote our way, click here or on the Vote For Me button on the right.

If you do so, we’ll send extra cyber hugs your way.

And vote for Footscray Food Blog while you’re about it!

Another perfect meal …

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Roast vegetables with rosemary and garlic: Hot out of the oven, warm/cold as a salad, or the next day (or two) for lunch on toast – makes no difference; all great!

Ingredients:

Spud, sweet spud, eggplant, largish onion, red capsicum, carrot, parsnip, zucchini, one long twig fresh rosemary, four garlic cloves, salt, pepper, olive oil, red wine vinegar.

Method:

1. Pre-heat oven to high heat – 200C in convection oven for me.

2. Chop all vegetables into smallish bite-size pieces, put in large bowl.

I usually throw ’em all in at once, even if the eggplant and zucchini break down more than their compatriots. This time I held them back for about 15 minutes before letting them join their pals in the oven.

Chop onion into quarters – it all falls apart in cooking.

Slice red capsicum after de-seeding and removing the membrane bits.

3. Lightly crush garlic cloves, but don’t peel. Add to vegetables.

These can be eaten with the rest but it’s optional. I don’t mind roast garlic, but I’m no big fan either – so I mostly use these for seasoning/perfuming.

4. Throw in rosemary.

Some variants I’ve seen of this recipe say to strip the rosemary to individual leaves, but I find that too messy and actually rather unpleasant, as the rosemary covers each and every vegetable chunk. Sprigs about 5cm long is the go. It falls apart plenty under cooking anyway.

3. Liberally douse with salt to taste and freshly ground pepper.

4. Use a heavy hand with the olive oil.

5. THIS IS THE BEST BIT – well, apart from eating your work anyway! Mix vegies, olive oil and seasonings thoroughly BY HAND!

6. Place all on as many foil-lined trays as you need, distributing rosemary and garlic evenly and leaving as much space between the vegetable chunks as you can.

7. Place in oven. After 15 minutes, put zucchini and eggplant bits in with the rest.

8. Gleelfully inhale cooking aromas.

9. Cook for a total of about an hour or until well done.

Some of the thinner parts of the onion an capsicum should be fairly well charred.

10. Place back in same bowl from whence they came.

11. Splash with red wine vinegar. I like quite a lot, actually, and more is good if you’re planning to keep the leftovers in the fridge.

12. Serve.

13. Sprinkle with fetta cheese (optional). Ricotta or cottage cheese may work, too

14. Eat.

15. Stash leftovers in a plastic container in the fridge.

Can taste even better the next day!

Another sooper-dooper thing about this recipe is that it makes your house smell freaking amazing – even better than chicken stock and much, much better than incense of even the highest quality.

Any bloggers and/or cooks out there have any tips on how to pour olive oil AND take a photograph at the same time?

Cafe Advieh

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Cafe Advieh, 71B Gamon St, Seddon. Phone: 0432 241 276

More often than not, Bennie gets over-ridden when it comes to choosing where we go to eat.

He’s a bit of a homebody at heart, so his dad’s wandering eye often has his eyes rolling.

He tolerates with good humour my restless adventuring.

But, really, instead of the long haul to Coburg or Deer Park – or even Sunshine or Moonee Ponds – he’d generally stay at home or within walking distance.

Today he gets his way – and we have a spectacularly fine lunch as a result.

We’d taken Cafe Advieh for a review outing early in its life, and have been back periodically – mostly ordering what we had the first time, the mixed grill plate.

Today we take a different tack.

Bennie’s small dips platter ($10.50) looks rather modest in size but does the job.

He likes the two stuffed vine leaves, preferring them unheated as they as they hold their form better.

He likes all the dips, but rates the eggplant number the highest.

I try it – and as on previous visits am knocked out.

This coarsely textured take on a classic is simply wonderful, with a robust smokiness.

The serving of toasted Turkish bread is in correct proportion to the amount of dipping fodder, and that’s even with dad filching some to have with his meal. He lets me eat most of the kalamata olives, too!

This puts to shame the lacklustre dips platters served at so many cafes.

My zucchini plate ($14.50) has more of the same very good hummus and yogurt, cucumber and dill.

The latter goes well with my zucchini fritter.

This, too, is unheated and all the better for it. It’s quite wide but rather thin, nicely salty, and its unheated stature gives it a nice leathery chewiness. Leathery in a totally good way!

My two salad choices are amazingly, lip-smackingly fine.

The coleslaw is not so much slaw in the common mayo meaning of the word but more a regularly dressed salad. Its mix of two types of cabbage, onion and carrot is homely, crunchy, heavy with lemon and utterly moreish.

So often I’ve been served – often, surprisingly, in kebab places that should know better and care more – tabbouleh that is an unappetising jumble of dry, undressed parsley and bulgar.

As far as I’m concerned – and based somewhat on repeated makings of the version found in Claudia Roden’s Arabesque – it should be damp almost to the point of dripping wet.

As it is here, with even more of a lemon accent than the coleslaw.

On the evidence of this lunch and others, Cafe Advieh has mastered the terrific trick turning out food that is refined but also has more than a few rough edges.

That is likewise reflected in a slice of tremendous house baklava ($4) with which I reward Bennie for making such a great lunch call. As on previous visits, it’s luscious and heavily scented with individually identifiable spices.

As a friend sitting at an adjacent table – Hi, Peter! – remarks, this is Middle Eastern food that seems less like restaurant fare and more like home cooking.

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Yummy India

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Yummy India, 21 Westwood Drive, Deer Park. Phone: 8337 0760

Yummy India in Deer Park has long been on our radar and finally the day has arrived.

We just didn’t think that in a million years the day would arrive on a Good Friday.

We’d already made Good Friday plans that involved the eating of Lebanese food in Coburg, but then the Yummy India folk posted on their Facebook page the day before that, yes, they’d be open over Easter – including for Good Friday lunch.

Really?

A pre-drive phone call ascertains that all is good and as advertised, so off we go.

The allure of Yummy India has for us is certainly to do with the pursuit of a good feed.

But it must be confessed the appeal is also undoubtedly to do with the restaurant’s location – on a Deer Park industrial estate and surrounded by fencing and swimming pool companies.

Of course, on this Good Friday there’s not a lot of traffic or any other kind of business going.

Like us, our mate Tony is transfixed and delighted by the sheer perversity, magicality and uniqueness of such a setting for such a restaurant.

Unsurprisingly, we are the only Good Friday lunch customers, although the service we receive is of the highest order and very friendly.

Our genial waiter tells they expect some takeaway orders and more trade by dinner time.

He certainly does the right thing by us right from the start be preventing us from over-ordering in a spectacular fashion.

The sort of rich and hearty food available here is quite a ways removed from the dosas, snack food and cut-rate thalis that are our normal Indian fare.

Nevertheless we’re out with a good friend and prepared to spend some money in order to get a fulsome, well-rounded lunch.

Three entrees, three mains and all the bits and pieces?

No, no, we are told – that’s too much.

And so it proves to be.

When asked about spice levels, I say – over Bennie’s protests – that medium will be fine.

Our entrees – which are at the upper end of our spice capacities – prove Bennie correct, and luckily we are in time to have the rest of our meal adjusted towards the mild end of the spectrum.

We are still learning our way with Indo-Chinese food, but that learning is involving increasing levels of enjoyment.

Apart from spice levels a tad too high for us, chilli and garlic mushrooms ($11.95) and chicken 65 ($12.95) have the high levels of oil we are coming to expect from this kind of food.

Moreover, despite the different names the flavours of both seem very similar, and the chook and mushie protagonists chewy where elsewhere I’ve enjoyed a more explosive crispness.

Not to be too picky, though – we enjoy both.

These are, of course, rather pricey for what are listed as entrees, but the serves are very big.

That trend continues with our main course curries and even the super large serve of raita ($3.50).

Indeed, I’m pretty sure the metal pots in which our curries arrive are bigger than those used in many other Indian restaurants of this type.

Nawabi chicken ($13.95) is, I’m told, based on a cashew nut gravy with your standard Indian spices and some tomato paste.

There’s some whole cashews, too, and what seems to be largish chunks of chicken breast are tender.

It’s  good, rich chicken curry.

The lamb lajawab ($12.95) is our meal’s highlight.

It, too, is based on a cashew nut gravy.

But this one is heavily laced with honey, giving it an aromatic flavour that is unlike that of any curry any of us have previously tried.

It’s delicious!

The lamb pieces are on the small side, and there’s not that many of them, but the meat is tender and lovely.

Apart from the advertised nuts and spices, I suspect both our curries also likely have a cream quotient on board, but if we were going to get squeamish about such things we would never have come.

Our garlic naan ($3.50) is oddly unbuttered and even quite crispy but still fine.

The aloo paratha ($3.50) has an obvious and oily sheen, but is quite good, too.

Despite a few mis-steps, Yummy India has restored our faith in the value of more formal, “special occasion”, expensive and rich Indian food.

The prices seem very typical, but the serves are large. Our lunch fare ends up costing us about $22 each, which is very good value indeed.

Where else would you get such a fine Indian meal on a Good Friday lunch-time?

And certainly, parking is never going to be a problem here, no matter the time or day.

(For those seeking lighter food, Yummy India also does idli, vada and dosas.)

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Television(s) – a good sign?

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In recent months I have enjoyed rapping on food topics with my Geelong Advertiser colleague Cameron Best, especially since our newspaper instituted a new restaurant reviews page.

Of necessity, this has been, for me, largely a matter of enjoyably reflecting on contrasts.

Between the sort of restaurants the newspaper wants to see reviewed and the restaurants that are actually in place and able to be assessed in Geelong and on the Bellarine Peninsula and the Surf Coast on the one hand.

And the wide open spaces of how Consider The Sauce chooses to define Melbourne’s western suburbs; the limitless style, payment methods and opening hours of the places we choose to blog on; and the less tightly focussed approach all that allows us, on the other.

Sadly, Geelong – for the moment anyway – lacks the sort of critical mass factors that leads to such powerful enclaves of multicultural eating in our west.

But a line in one of Cam’s recent reviews – of an Afghan kebab joint in the main drag Ryrie St – stayed with me.

My colleague was obviously nonplussed mightily by the presence of wide-screen televisions in said eatery, opining such electronic pictures and sounds were no more than a distraction from a good meal.

By contrast …

The Consider The Sauce eating-out experience is frequently accompanied by television.

Frequently, it seems, plural TVs are the go – often one over the doorway or entrance and another behind the cash register.

Now, I’d not for a second suggest such media capacity is any way to be taken as indicative of good things to eat forthcoming.

But …

We are well used to watching – even if somewhat subliminally – TVs blaring everything from Bollywood spectaculars to non-English news services and obscure South American soccer games as we are waiting to be fed.

So, not necessarily a good thing – but far from a bad one, for us, either.

And that got me thinking about what, for us, are some of the key signals that great food is at hand.

Kids, for starters.

Often they’re playing or doing homework at one of the tables nearest the cash register.

Of course, if we’ve been a regular for years at a place, the kids grow up and start taking a more labour-intensive role in the running of their family business.

And there could hardly be a more a more promising indication of food of our kind of inclination than the business card of Maurya Indian restaurant in Sunshine, which promotes a discount available to taxi drivers and students.

Personally, I’d nominate extremely flexible or even non-existent published opening hours as another good look.

Likewise, a complete lack of credit card or EFTPOS facilities.

Mind you, even that is changing – as is the engagement of our kind of eating places in general with the cyber wold in general and social media in particular.

Happily, a large chunk of my daily Facebook news feed comes these days from western suburbs businesses posting their daily specials, latest news and even general good wishes to their customers.

Tiles, mis-matched tables and chairs, mis-matched cutlery and crockery, dog-eared plastic-laminated menus, table-top accoutrements and condiments – all are somehow reassuring portents of potentially good things to come.

Hoyts, Highpoint

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Hoyts, Highpoint.

The Highpoint Hoyts movie that was involved has long been forgotten.

But the consequences of asking for the smallest possible soda pop drink and smallest possible container of popcorn at the concession stand have been in force for quite a few years now.

So exorbitant was the price quoted, so great the shock, that I have maintained the momentum ever since of NEVER, EVER paying for in-house moving crap.

But today I relent – only to find my own personal willpower has all the rigidity of a wet noodle.

As with our family and friends gathering at Grill’d a year before, this is a Bennie birthday celebration, although in this case somewhat belatedly.

For company, we have our mate Rakha, who was enlisted for Consider The Sauce duty in our appraisal of Yummie Hong Kong Dim Sum.

While I know it’d be easier and maybe cheaper to merely wander around the corner to the Sun Theatre in Yarraville, that simply doesn’t have the same frission or buzz for a boys’ day out.

So Highpoint it is.

And it’s Grandma’s shout!

We have preserved money allocated by her and her loving ways specifically for this purpose.

So Highpoint and over-priced movie munchies it is.

As part of some sort of mid-week daylight hours deal, all our tickets cost a reasonable $11 each.

Without being too heavyhanded, I convince the boys that the “medium 2-drink combo” at $18.80 is the deal for them.

I still consider it a ripoff, but in truth and given the outing’s context, this deal doesn’t seem too bad at all.

I utter stern words about confiscating their drinks for a while in case they get carried away with salt-inspired slurping that may require even more soft drink expenditure before the popcorn is anywhere near finished.

After we are seated, I lose it completely.

I have a mouthful of popcorn.

And another.

Before I know it, popcorn lust has completely consumed me.

And I am taking hefty slips of Bennie’s Coca Cola stuff along the way, between popcorn sorties that are tantamount to elbowing my movie mates out of the way.

It is Bennie, not I, who – while the trailers are still running – proclaims: “No more popcorn until the movie starts!”

After a few minutes, I hear Rakha mutter something along the lines of: “Hey how about some more popcorn?”

I almost whimper in full-blooded sympathy.

MORE. POPCORN. NOW.

The popcorn and soft drinks last some way into the movie proper.

I am shocked, however, by the really high amount of unpopped corn that becomes part of our scarfing as the bucket goes lower than a quarter full.

These are hard little grenades just waiting to detonate into oblivion Very Expensive Dental Work.

I go slower and more carefully.

Eventually, even the boys give it up.

As for the movie, I have done my research and the portents all look good.

John Carter has been cheerfully slagged by such august figures of the film critic world as David Stratton and widely reported as being the biggest, most expensive movie flop of all time!

Awesome!

Moreover, it is based on a story by Edgar Rice Burroughs.

I have been gently trying to entice Bennie from his otherwise admirable fondness for vintage period Marvel and DC comics into the sometimes noirish otherwordly realms of his dad’s fantasy and scifi interests.

I even bought a cheapo paperback version of the The Land That Time Forgot trilogy to see if he’d rise to the bait, so this flick’ll do us fine!

I am entirely correct – this is a beaut popcorn-style movie.

While we all find it hard to follow at times, we all groove on its whacko, campy mix of scifi, (wild) western, fantasy, sword and scorcery epics,  Star Wars and more.

The computerised landscapes and their stark beauty evoke, for me, not just Burroughs but also the writing of the likes of Leigh Brackett and Robert E. Howard.

Cracking!

On the way out, I ponder once more the potentially calamitous threat posed by all that unpopped corn.

What if … one of them did its worst, with the result my dentist was heard to say: “Sorry, Kenny, that’s root canal for you – and another $15000!”

Kaching!

What if … that happened?

What would Hoyts have to say about it?

Does the company even have a policy regarding unpopped corn and dentistry?

The Highpoint in-house Hoyts junior management representative, Jessica, fields my queries with grace and humour – but confesses such issues are well out of her area.

She gives me the number of a Melbourne-based Hoyts media staffer, from whom I am awaiting a return call as we go to press.