Monthly Archives: May 2012

Half Moon Cafe

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Half Moon Cafe, 13 Victoria St, Coburg. Phone: 9350 2949

After checking out – with some conscious method – Wang Wang Dumpling, Abbout Falafel House, Al-Alamy and Cafe Sarabella, it’s time to visit Half Moon Cafe and put a big tick against the last of the eateries that have called to me so eloquently to this fabulous stretch of Sydney Rd in recent times.

I’m sure there are many more fab places, fine food and great meals to be had here but these are the ones that first had me making the occasional drive from Yarraville.

For the finest of company I’ve today got Kurt, who is more than happy to get out of his abode and head out on something of mini-road trip.

Half Moon Cafe is a tiny joint of the Middle Eastern persuasion that is just a few doors along from Cafe Sarabella in the Victoria St mall.

The signage outside includes the boast: “Falafel Egyptian Style.”

Made with fava beans rather than chick peas, this is of course the ordering route we both embark on after snagging an outside table.

But first we try a small serve of three stuffed vines leaves ($2.50).

I love ’em, though Kurt is no big fan regardless of standards of excellence.

They’re lemony and firm of build – perfect. Oddly, the smallness of the cigars helps their cause – two mouthfuls apiece seems so right.

My falafel plate ($12) is fine.

The falafel balls are indeed worthy of their reputation – tender but grease-free, full of flavour (but not much different to chick pea falafels so far as I can tell) and coloured a fetching dark green.

Three dips are on board – the clear winner is the smoky eggplant number on the right.

The tabouli is lemony and wet as suits my preferences.

The pickled cucumber and turshi are fine, too, though the olives get lost between the hummus and a chick pea salad that is a little on the undressed side.

The lettuce, rocket and red cabbage seem a tad extraneous.

It’s a beaut lunch at a good price.

I confess to preferring Abbout Falafel House for delivering virtually the same lineup of goodies with a touch more class and finesse, but it’s a close call.

Kurt, meanwhile, loves the hell out if his $7 falafel wrap with fetta cheese, chilli and many of the same protagonists that grace my plate.

As we sit back after our lunch, watching the passing parade in the autumn sunshine, we both wish aloud that Footscray’s mall could boast such a lively, friendly, relaxed and unthreatening ambience.

A sign behind the serving counter more or less guarantees that one or both of us will be returning to Half Moon Cafe soon.

Half Moon Café on Urbanspoon

N-Joy Gourmet Foods Salami & Goats Cheese Pizza

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Seen those vacuum-packed pizzas that seem to have become all the rage of supermarket stockists in the past year or so?

There seems to be several suppliers providing them to all our regular supermarket haunts.

They certainly look nice with their sort-of fresh ingredients on display – they look much better, in fact, than your normal supermarket pizzas from the freezer, which we’d never consider buying.

We’ve tried a number of them by now.

Some have been OK.

Just.

Some – most – have been awful.

Even when the toppings have passed muster, the problem has been getting the pies crispy – despite following the cooking instructions scrupulously.

Crispy?

Nah.

More like flaccid, limp, soggy.

This is our first road test of a N-Joy Gourmet Foods pizza.

As well as the advertised cheese and meat there’s olives and artichoke bits. Well actually, they’re more like artichoke shavings.

Get the oven real hot and into it goes our pizza.

After fives minutes or so the verdict is … hmmmm, certainly smells the business.

When it’s just about done, a big bubble has, um, bubbled up in the centre of the pie.

Out of the oven it comes to be sliced.

The spicy salami rather heavily dominates.

The goats cheese tastes good but it’s a bit overwhelmed and there’s only so much of it.

The olives and artichoke shavings are relegated to decoration status.

Happily, though, it has form and structure – it’s something approaching crispiness and a slice can be held in one hand rather than two.

This is the best of its ilk we’ve tried … so far.

Meanwhile, it’s fair to say that those pizza purists who start from scratch AND those more pragmatic folk who use store-bought bases or even pita bread really do have a point.

Cup & Bean follow-up …

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Cup & Bean, 20 Wembley Ave, Yarraville. Phone: 0459 075 207

Wembley Ave in Yarraville has become one of our favourite places to stop by, what with Cup & Bean and Mishra’s Kitchen living companionably side by side.

Tim continues to create superb coffees for us when we drop in, and we’ve also snagged a few on our way to Saturday morning sports fixtures.

This short follow-up post is all about singing the praises of the really fine stuffed baguette sandwiches Tim is also creating.

The sourdough baguettes are par-baked to about the 80 per cent mark and then snap frozen before Tim takes delivery of them, and he does the rest at his leisure.

I sometimes find the idea of baguette is better than the reality, with the crustiness frequently taken to gum-shredding heights.

Not so here.

The bread is firm on the outside but fresh and bready on the inside – marvellous in fact!

Mine is filled with wonderfully fresh ingredients – leaves, cheddar, tomato, avocado, some mayo to help things along and, especially fine, thick slices of ham and stacks of them.

A perfectly yummo light lunch for $6 when another bowl of noodles or curry or rice is a stretch too far.

My coffee, as ever, is wonderful.

Cup & Bean on Urbanspoon

Xuan Xinh

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Xuan Xinh, 52 Alfrieda St, St Albans. Phone: 9362 1544

Self-evidently, Xuan Xinh has a name.

It has street signage saying so, too.

But this has to be the most anonymous eatery on busy Alfrieda St.

Like Pho Kim Long just up the street, this is a local hangout, but one I’d guess even less likely to pull in visitors to the area looking for a good feed.

Aside from right here, you’ll not find bloggers or newspaper foodie bits extolling its virtues, nor any love – or even a mention – at Urbanspoon.

But that sort of anonymity and the steady parade of regular and hungry customers have their own appeal.

There’s banh mi makings on display, but most of the eat-in customers have their food out of bowls rather than buns.

I’d not call myself a regular here, but over the course of several visits I’ve endeavoured to discover what it is these customers are having for lunch.

But so unused are the staff to having non-Vietnamese speaking customers and so monumentally lacking is my understanding of same that such inquiries have, perhaps inevitably, ended up in all-round bewilderment.

All I know is there’s a congee on the menu, some chicken dishes, too; and next to the banh mi ingredients are a beef stew and a dish of pork ribs and hardboiled eggs.

I’m cool with it, as I suspect I’ll always order what I always order – the chicken curry.

This is a utilitarian eating space that has a comfy, lived-in feel.

I’m well used to biding my time in Indian joints by flipping with interest through copies of the various incarnations of the Indian street press.

But reading with equal interest the Filipino street press in a Vietnamese place? Definitely a first!

To go with my chook curry I can choose rice or roll.

I go the baguette route.

It’s sensationally fresh – crunchy on the outer, moist and almost doughy on the inside, perfect dipped in the curry.

Slurp, slurp!

My curry is perfection.

Three pieces of impeccably tender and tasty chicken, with the meat simply falling away from the bones.

One big and tender but not mushy potato.

Some coriander.

Curry gravy that is ever so mild, with just a whisper of spice kick.

The price? $8 – and that’s perfect, too.

Like David Attenborough in the kitchen …

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I thought I was running a pretty tight ship these days when it comes to keeping the mice at bay …

Everything edible in tight-sealing plastic containers; or other wise stashed in mouse-proof cupboard, the door of which is always kept closed.

Remove paper from other cupboards, too.

Rubbish bin always closed when not in use.

Sweep floor after zealous cooking sessions.

But still, there have been telltale blurs of movement in the peripheral vision.

Gnawed packages when vigilance has momentarily lapsed.

And the telltale signs of poo.

While I’d previously thought the kitchen table was an unmousey haven where a more relaxed attitude could prevail, the critters have discovered the foodie potential there, as well.

So I line up the kitchen chairs against one of the walls – and well away from the table.

Surely that’d stop them from gaining access to the table?

That night, trying to get to sleep, I hear definite sounds of mousey voraciousness, ripping and attacking.

I get up to check the table’s contents. All seems OK, so it’s a mystery.

Back to bed and more fossicking sounds.

This time, I put on clothes and turn on the hall light so the kitchen is lit, but dimly so.

I grab a kitchen chair, sit and wait.

But not for long.

Within about five minutes, out they come.

Skittering across the floor.

And straight up the table legs.

Like tiny mountaineer monkeys.

I’m sitting a few feet away.

I feel like David Attenborough.

The unfolding spectacle is fascinating.

They’re kinda jittery, darting here and there on the table and the floor. The three of them seem preoccupied with their own missions, though they stop for a chat when crossing paths.

As a species, these common mice are obviously successful survivors.

But as individuals, the three at play before me seem dimwitted and myopic.

No wonder they’re such easy pickings for any feline with a semblance of patience!

One of them seems to have dibs on a particular plastic container.

It’s old and thin – I’ve had it for years, it being full of crackers at present.

His pals mosey over to see what he’s up to then go their own ways.

He hops on to it and heads straight for the hole he’s gnawed in the lid.

Ahhh!

But instead of trying to widen the hole so he can get right inside and have a full-on cracker party, he merely sticks head through and desperately tries to fang any cracker within reach.

Arse up and tail twitching, it’s a comical sight.

Into the rubbish bin go the container and its cracker contents.

And the cardboard box of drinking chocolate that has a corner missing.

And the kiwifruit with a big hole in it.

They don’t seem to like bananas, pears or mandarins.

I’ve always assumed that because our house is so old and creaky, the mousey access points so plentiful, that the key to keeping rodents at bay is leaving them nothing to eat.

But I’ve stoppered up what seems to be the main access hole and things have improved dramatically, so maybe the house is more secure, mice-wise, than I figured.

Point Cook Homestead

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Point Cook Homestead, 1 Point Cook Homestead Rd, Point Cook. Phone: 9395 1213

It’s a bleak, wintry day for a seaside visit.

But it’s magical anyway – making landfall at Point Cook Homestead and being knocked out by the stunning beauty of the grounds and the relaxed, charming atmosphere of the restaurant.

Happily envisaging, too, future visits for picnics and more when the weather is warmer and time constraints not so demanding.

We could spend days here … and may even do so, as the homestead operates as a B&B.

When completed in 1857, the homestead – its builders had a family connection with Werribee Mansion – would’ve been a long way from anywhere.

These days, suburbia in the form of Sanctuary Lakes and other developments is encroaching, but it retains a very strong feel of being far from anything urban.

Turning left before I get to the RAAF museum, the development sprawl is left behind and then I’m driving the dirt road up to the homestead grounds.

On arrival, I am greeted by a gaggle of fat, waddling and thoroughly gorgeous geese.

The restaurant is sited in a building of far more recent vintage than the homestead itself.

Mind you, it, too, has plenty of country charm.

I am the first lunch customer and the waitress is partially occupied mopping the floor in the half of the dining room in which the chairs are on the tables.

In the sunny half of the dining room destined for lunch-time business, the tabletops are all painted a dullish green and the paint is liberally scratched.

I like that.

The restaurant is open for breakfast and lunch, and dinner on Fridays, with the lunch menu offering pretty much what I expect from such an establishment.

There’s pastas and burgers and dips and caesar salads.

There’s even a surf ‘n’ turf (market price).

Never been there. Probably never will.

I’m hungry and happy, so consider ordering both the soup and the pie from the specials board – that sounds like a decent lunch for just a tad over $20.

However, after being assured that fresh oil has just been installed in the deep fryer, I do something unusual for me – I order the chicken parma ($22).

I am no parma expert, for I rarely order any of the variations of this dish – simply because most I’ve had over the years have been dull, average or dreadful.

This one doesn’t fit any of those three categories and I really enjoy my lunch.

The crumbed chicken not draped with tomato sauce, cheese and ham is crispy and ungreasy.

The chicken is real and well cooked.

I love the way the flavours of the three topping protagonists come through quite discernibly in different ways with different mouthfuls.

The shoestring chips are hot enough but just on the positive side of OK.

The salad is standard fare for such eateries, may be what the customer base expects and wants, and the ingredients are all in good nick.

But I find the hodge podge of greens, sprouts, onion, carrot and capsicum unappealing, a situation not helped by the gloopy mustard dressing.

Oh well – the parma itself more than suffices.

After lunch, I amble around just a small part of the grounds, once more delighting in the sights and fresh air, and once more already planing future visits in sunnier times.

From the beach, there’s a lovely view of the distant Melbourne CBD skyline.

The restaurant staff have told me that visitors bringing their own picnic goodies are welcome but are asked to make a donation, as the mansion and grounds are maintained by the residents rather than Parks Victoria.

And of course such visitors are unable to use the restaurant’s outdoor seating, though most I’m sure drop in for a coffee at the least.

The Point Cook Homestead website – including menu pdfs – is here.

Point Cook Homestead on Urbanspoon