Alfrieda Street gem

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Phuong Thao, 28 Alfrieda Street, St Albans. Phone: 9366 5686

We first wrote about a restaurant at these premises a long time ago when it was called Just Good Food.

Since then it’s also been branded as Quang Thao but now has settled on Phuong Thao.

I have no idea if there has been or is any continuity between back then and now in terms of management, staff, cooks and so on.

Though the giant roast-meat ovens out back are still very much evidence.

I like the fact that it’s roomy and not as packed as a handful of the other Alfrieda Street hot-spots.

I like, too, that every time I’ve arrived at the place there has been a reassuring number of locals and regulars who obviously know what they’re about when it comes to their tucker.

I like it that for third lunch in a many weeks I am greeted similarly.

Yes, I have grown to like this joint.

(It was here, too, by the way, that I sourced the chicken feet that made Bennie’s thankfully short-lived stay in Sunshine Hospital just that little bit more tasty …)

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You can order pho at Phuong Thao, but why would you when there is so much other fun stuff to ponder?

There’s Chinese roast meats, of course, but the heart of what’s available appears to be Vietnamese.

They have four-person banquets that go from $107 way up to $357 for the bells-and-whistles lobster version.

On a more prosaic level there’s soft shell crab with salted egg yolk (cua lot rang hot vit muoi, $18.50), coleslaws that are surely mammoth serves given they cost $25 a pop, rare cooked beef with lemon (bo tai chanh, $25), fish in clay pot with caramel (ca kho to, no price lised with the photo on the wall) and goat casserole (lau de, $35 and $55).

For my first couple of visits I have the same fine dish – hu tieu nam vang or rice noodle in Cambodian style (top photo, $10).

It’s a super soup blast.

In addition to the rudimentary green onions and coriander, there’s quite a lot julienned celery for extra and delightful crunch.

The prawns have good, strong and fresh flavour and the slices of pork are grand, though I could live without the gooey-centred small eggs.

The broth is hot and fine, and has floating in it minced pork and – the bowl’s primary flavour factor – granulated garlic.

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For today’s lunch I go more basic and familiar with tomato rice with marinated diced beef ($10).

As I have found elsewhere with this dish, looks can be deceiving – what appears to be a smallish serve is more than adequate. Something about cocooning the main players in a lettuce-leaf cup, I reckon.

The beef chunks are a little larger than is usual, beautifully tender and nicely crusty on the outside.

The rice seems more like just plain fried rice with negligible tomato factor and is a little on the dry side.

 

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Lives lived in public

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Through long residence in the west, a son who is progressing through the various school levels and Consider The Sauce, I appear to have surrounded myself with a pretty darn good network of family, friends, acquaintances, connections and various mixtures of all of the above.

And for that I am truly grateful.

We enjoy meeting and greeting friends and followers of CTS at our now regular Feasts, other foodie events, pre-arranged smaller, more private gatherings in restaurants or even spontaneous introductions on the streets of the west.

That figures – Bennie and I have hardly been shy about running photos of ourselves; and our T-shirts!

We enjoy these opportunities immensely.

But the truth is, other people’s homes – with a couple of exceptions – are a mystery to me. As is ours to them.

Perhaps this is one of the downsides of having such wonderfully easy access to outstanding cheap eats.

Why bother cooking for a crowd when you can just as easily – actually, much more easily – hit one of the great local noodle or curry joints?

This seems to be not just true of a quick feed on a regular week night when the fridge is empty, but also for myriad celebrations that would’ve once been held in family homes.

Although, in a broader context, there are far more profound forces and factors at play than those merely pertaining to our great westie eats circumstances.

It really is a different world.

Forget my very early days in Dunedin.

Even in my 20s and in Wellington, the pubs (and the music) would finish about 10pm or 11pm, and then it was usually off to somebody’s place for a party!

How often do regular folks hold parties these days?

OK, tick them off – elections, AFL Grand Final, Melbourne Cup, New Year’s Eve.

And that’s about it.

Even kids’ birthday parties are conducted out and about.

So perhaps in many cases it makes sense to think of the places where people sleep as living spaces or some such, rather than as homes.

I think there are both positives and negatives to what really is a seismic shift in how people in metropolitan settings live their lives.

But maybe it’s time to get back into the habit of having guests at our joint for great Indian thali meals – as we so often did at our previous abode.

That’s right – the one right next door!

Buy a BBQ and start a garden?

Hmmm, maybe not so much …

Not all food blogers are the same

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Larissa Dubecki is, as I’m sure almost all of you are aware, the No.1 restaurant reviewer for The Age.

In a comment piece she has let fly in spectacular manner about food bloggers, rampant compromising and basically all the general all-round sleaze she can fit into her magnificent rant.

Here are just a couple of the paragraphs:

“You see them on blogs the next day with really enthusiastic write-ups about how fabulous the venue, the food, the drinks and the owners are (always, mind you, with a little disclaimer at the bottom about how the writer attended as a non-paying guest – their integrity is scrupulous).

I’d love to go (I might even get my face in the social pages!) but, alas, there simply aren’t enough nights in the week. When everyone else is off having their fun, boring old me is off trying to slip into a restaurant unnoticed under a fake name so I might appraise it from an objective point of view to give consumers the best advice about where to spend their hard-earned. How about THAT for a shit sandwich.”

You can read the whole thing here.

Wow …

Actually, I agree with many of her points.

And if the “Melbourne food blogger who is well known for approaching newly opened restaurants for a feed in return for a ‘review'” she refers to is who I suspect, then I share that disdain.

But, oh dear, she’s taken such a broad-brush approach.

It’s simple – not all food bloggers are the same.

Consider The Sauce regularly covers restaurants in the west that are extremely unlikely to ever gain coverage in The Age.

As well, while the writer may grumble about the “shit sandwich” she is so unhappily forced to eat, she works for a commercial organisation that accepts advertising moolah from all and sundry and which no doubt makes all sorts of deals along the way.

The Age and Fairfax are in the marketplace.

Such a high-handed approach would only make perfect, irrefutable sense if Epicure and The Age Good Food Guide carried no advertising whatsoever.

But they do.

And while The Age may be scrupulous about always paying for meals it reviews, is it such a stretch to mention the “media passes” its sports writers utilise to gain non-paying access to AFL games and much, much more?

The Age is also listed as a “partner” on the website of the Melbourne Food & Wine Festival. The nature of that partnership is not disclosed, but naturally the newspaper can and does run heaps of stories about the festival.

As well, such a sweeping put down fails to acknowledge the good work that many of Melbourne’s food bloggers do.

This fact, by the way, is periodically acknowledged by The Age and its Epicure section themselves.

Indeed, they have helped Consider The Sauce itself on a number of occasions and I remain very grateful for that assistance – including two stories on the fabulous Westies: Dishes of Distinction!

Perhaps if I am to worry, the very real prospects of becoming an unemployed journalist should occupy my mind.

Truth is, though, the idea of becoming considered a flogger is much more troubling!

Sunshine Hospital

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Ongoing but nothing too scary …

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Son of a food blogger assesses supplied breakfast.

Food blogger dad makes urgent cafeteria run for bacon and egg sangers x 3.

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Just right!

Coffee quite good, Greek salad looks great.

Staff fantastic, other kids and parents cool as.

Could be a long day!

Dad makes Alfrieda St lunch run; returns with awesome, freshly cooked chicken feet.

Having already dispensed with his hospital lunch, Bennie makes short work of the chook bits.

They’re awesome!

UPDATE:

Bennie and I left Sunshine Hospital at about 5pm. He’d been transferred there by ambulance from Footscray just after midnight, after his mum had taken him there about 9pm on Friday night.

We left with prescriptions for antibiotics and ventolin, and an asthma plan. Even though this is probably not asthma.

It’s an outbreak of a bronchial condition we’ve been dealing with for quite a few years. The staff at Footscray were concerned enough, specifically about pneumonia, to transfer him to Sunshine.

We appreciate the care and the cautious approach that was taken.

I have told Bennie he’s old enough to assume some ownership of this, including medications and weather-suitable clothing.

There’s lots worse things to be visiting doctors and hospitals about. But this kind of thing can and does kill people.

I also found out that, at a pinch, I can publish a blog post – including photos – using just my phone!

We may even return – we liked the look of the chicken korma and chick pea and egg curry in the Sunshine Hospital cafeteria.

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Job insecurity as the new job security

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Today I went to work … for the simple reason I had a job to go to.

I will do the same on Monday and Tuesday.

And, hopefully, presumably, next Friday, too.

Given the ongoing ructions in the media in general and the newspaper lark in particular, this is not a situation I take for granted – even in a good week.

And this has not been a good week. (But perhaps it hasn’t been ruinously bad one either … read on, dear reader, read on …)

Once again, my colleagues and I have been tossed around by the winds of change.

In this case, it was announced on Thursday that the western suburbs affairs of the MMP group, for which I work, are to be merged with the western suburbs affairs of the Star group, which lives on the other side of the Ring Road from our Airport West HQ.

Details remain a little sketchy, but it seems the new set-up will be a completely separate entity from both parent companies.

Two things have surprised me about this:

1. It’s the first time I can recall in regards to similar announcements that sub-editors and production staff, of which I am one, have not been earmarked as pretty much the first to be given the boot.

2. My own reaction – which has bemused me with its sanguine outlook.

OK, in this case my own immediate work situation remains unaltered … for now.

But I wasn’t to know that when my boss called me on one of my days off to give me the news.

This rather ho-hum response couldn’t be more at odds with my feelings when faced with such potentially dire news on two previous occasions in recent years.

During both, I was teary and felt a wild, thoroughly unpleasant mixture of bleakness, anger and terror.

I know not if this equanimity is attributable to simply being too exhausted by anxiety and stress to summon up any sort of primal emotional response.

Or if it is simply down to a mature acceptance of facing the unknown and what I cannot change with whatever optimism I can summon.

Possibly, it is a combination of both.

For you, the citizens of the west, this will mean that in about three months you will get not three but two suburban papers stuffed into your mailboxes – providing they get delivered to your particular neighbourhood at all!

For myself and my colleagues, there is potential upsides to all this even as, as I have been led to believe, job losses in the MMP group alone number about 30.

Having three companies publishing community newspapers across the west has proven to be unsustainable.

So now it will be something of an old-fashioned head-to-head newspaper war between the Leader group of News Ltd and what I have been told will be called the Weekly Star publications.

It’s perhaps too easy and glib for journalists to proclaim suburban newspapers as the great hope for the future.

But I reckon they do provide some cause for optimism.

After a career mostly undertaken in metropolitan newspapers, I am thoroughly enjoying working on and with stories that have real meaning in local contexts.

Politics and sport are just two of the areas in which we seem to be providing a much-wanted service largely abandoned by the big guys.

I was told today that the circulation of the Herald Sun has slipped below 400,000 and that of Sydney’s Daily Telegraph below 300,000.

I am unsure of the accuracy of those figures, but still …

In the meantime, should Consider The Sauce continue to grow and develop in the next four years in the same manner it has for the past four, maybe by the time the whole newspaper mess goes down, I will be in a position to survive doing something I really, truly love.

PS: I wanted to use the word sanguineness … but I don’t think it IS a word!

Consider The Sauce Feast No.5: Indian Palette

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Indian Palette, 140 Victoria Street, Seddon. Phone: 9689 8776

NOTE: THIS EVENT HAS SOLD OUT!

It’s on – the fifth Consider The Sauce Feast will held at Seddon gem Indian Palette on Friday, March 21, from 7pm.

But there are changes to the previous Feasts format of a table of 10 eating complementary food provided at no charge by a CTS-endorsed restaurant.

Regular readers will know that for some time I have been trying to find a way of continuing these fabulous events while at the same time deriving some modest income for my efforts.

Oddly, the resistance to having paid, ticketed Feasts has not come from you, our readers and followers.

As one friend put it to me a few weeks ago: “It’s not about free food – it’s about great food!”

We agree!

And now, with the lovely Francis and Sue from Indian Palette, I have found the right people and the right place to really up the CTS Feast tempo.

They immediately saw the advantages for them in joining with CTS in this event.

The income will be split 50/50 between CTS and Indian Palette, allowing Francis and Sue to cover at least some of their costs and affording CTS a reward for organisational and promotional efforts.

As well, without the natural limits set by providing free food, we three have been able to think bigger.

As we planned this Feast, we thought: “If not just 10 people, then how many – 15, 20, 25? Let’s make it 30!”

Yes, CTS will be taking over Indian Palette for the evening.

So with this Feast, the days of first-in first-served emails and a limit of two seats per applicant have come to an end, as has the need to monitor how many Feasts particular CTS friends are attending.

Nor need I fret about those who have been missing out despite repeatedly trying to get in!

All four Feasts so far have been filled up within an hour, so often it has been a matter of timing – good or bad – for the applicants.

Buy as many tickets as you want – whoever you may be!

But never fear, for this will still be a grand, most enjoyable and delicious event.

As we were discussing the menu, Francis told me how their restaurant started out offering authentic Indian food but had started catering for Western tastes.

I enthusiastically and adamantly assured him that any such compromises would be greeted with horror by the CTS clan and that the more authentic and hardcore the food he cooks for us, the happier everyone will be.

His eyes twinkled when I told him that.

And as you can see from the menu below, this CTS Feast will be a sooper dooper bargain even at an asking price of $20.

CTS Feast No.5: Indian Palette,

140 Victoria Street, Seddon. Phone: 9689 8776

Friday, March 21, from 7pm.

MENU

Entrees

Cut mirchi (fresh green chillies cut and dipped in gram flour batter and deep fried)

Lamp pepper fry (boneless lamb pieces cooked with pepper and Indian spices)

Mains

Gutti vanakaya kura (mini eggplant seasoned with ground nut, tamarind pulp, finished with South Indian spices)

Andhra kodikura (a favourite homestyle Southern Indian spicy chicken dish with garam masala, caramom, green chilli, cloves and cinnamon)

Dal fry (yellow split lentils cooked and fried with onions, ghee and coriander)

Other

Vegetable raitha

Butter naan

Saffron rice

Kachumbar salad (finely chopped onions, tomatoes, cucumbers mixed and tossed with lemon dressing)

Dessert

Badam kheer (ground almonds cooked in milk and sugar, flavoured with cardamom)

NOTE: Soft drinks, beer and wine are exclusive of the CTS Feast payment.

BOOK YOUR TICKET FOR CTS FEAST NO.5 HERE – $20 per ticket!

See earlier story here.

Yarraville Festival 2014

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We’re a bit ho-hum about this year’s Yarraville Festival.

Well actually, I am.

Bennie’s pumped.

So it’s a good thing I made him knuckle down yesterday by spending a couple of hours on his first high school project. Said project is going to take several more hours today for it to be completed to our mutual satisfaction.

While he’s been doing that, I’ve been doing blog work (with clothes) and house work (without).

By the time we’re just about ready to roll – going our separate ways to the festival for the first time – the pace outside our home has quickened considerably.

The parking in our street is gone and people are walking to the festival from blocks away.

Sauntering the two blocks to the festival is always a strange sensation.

Turn a corner and – blam! – I’m straight into the intensity of crowds, stalls, music, food aromas and, as always, dogs of all shapes and sizes.

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Perhaps because this the first festival to be held on a Sunday – normally a relatively quiet day in the village – this year’s fest seems even more crowded, even more thronged with people and eats commerce.

The food stalls are doing such hot trade that there are queues everywhere.

So I hit a snag – two of them actually.

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The first comes from a stall under the jurisdiction of the Maribyrnong Swifts Football Club – and it’s perfect in its simplicity.

A superb pork sausage – sourced, I am told, from Footscray Market – on a slice of very good white bread has me sighing with pleasure.

It’s the best food I’ve enjoyed at any Yarraville Festival in any year.

Further along Anderson St, in the mad car park, I hit snag No.2.

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This lamb number ($7) comes from Snagga’s Healthy Sausages and is also perfection – a loosely-filled sausage with top-class greenery.

At this point I run into my good pals Pastor Cecil and his wife Jane.

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I hang with them for about half and hour, enjoying some lively conversation that includes the saucy tale of their courtship and eventual marriage in Bundaberg.

And just for the record, I record once more the fact that my favourite clergyman has once again been seen out and about and in public wearing sandals with red socks.

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Moving on, I hook up with three new friends, two of whom happen to be of the junior human variety.

So it’s a pleasure to spend my remaining festival time in their company, experiencing second-hand the day through young eyes.

This includes a thrilling merry-go-round and faint-painting …

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… and even a remarkably placid but assuredly razor-toothed ferret.

Another notable feature of living so close to the village – I can hear the festival’s last hurrah of amplified music as I complete this post.

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eat.drink.westside – a fab preview

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Heaven forbid Bennie and I should ever, through sheer familiarity, take the riches that surround us for granted.

Heaven forbid, too, we should ever become blase and unappreciative of the marvellous opportunities continuing to be afforded us because we are, by now, well-established food bloggers.

A media/blogger “famil” to promote eat.drink.westside, for instance, is something we could easily blow off as it is to cover ground with which we are very familiar – in a general sense, if not specifically.

But front up we do – and have a brilliant time, seeing ‘Scray central through new eyes.

eat.drink.westside, part of the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival, is a suite of really fine food events in and around Footscray presented by Maribyrnong City Council.

They include the famed and fabulous Rickshaw Run – for which volunteers are still being sought.

Other events include Dancing with the Tides, Malt Hops Yeast and Water, A Trio of Astrological Bites and Melbourne’s Fish Mongrels.

eat.drink.westside runs from February 28 to March 16, and further details can be discovered here.

Of course, much of the intense enjoyment of our several hours in Footscray is down to the food we eat and the people who make it that we meet along the way.

But we take much pleasure, too, from rubbing shoulders with a bunch of fellow food nuts, including a number of familiar faces and friends.

Among those we do the Footscray Boogie with are food scribe Cara Waters, Ros Grundy from Epicure, Sofia Levin of Poppet’s Window, awesome foodie-about-town Nat Stockley, Cindy and Michael from Where’s the Beef, Dan Kuseta of Milk Bar Mag, Charlene Macaulay of the Star newspaper, Benjamin Millar, my colleague at the Maribyrnong and Hobsons Bay Weekly, Claire from Melbourne Gastronome, and last but far from least Lauren Wambach of Footscray Food Blog, who does a typically top-notch job of being our guide and host.

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We start at 1+1 Mandarin Dumpling Restaurant, where Amy and Julia take us through the rudiments of making dumplings.

The restaurant’s food is based around the Xinjiang province of northern China, which has a large Muslim population, so our dumplings will be of the lamb genre. For those among us of vegetarian bent, there is a filling of cabbage, mushrooms, fried tofu and spring onions.

Amy and Julia show us how to carefully roll out the dough balls of plain four and water so there is a lump in the middle for the filling to sit on.

Gloved and aproned, we have a grand time having a go. We’d all hate to be making enough to feed a hungry family, never mind a busy restaurant!

But we do surprisingly well – mostly the results look like dumplings of a suitably rustic (ugly) variety.

Later, we boil ours up as per the instructions. They hold together really well and taste amazing!

Next stop is a few doors’ up and a real treat – a visit to the legendary T. Cavallaro & Sons.

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Here I finally get to meet Tony Cavallaro (pictured with Sarina).

We try some amaretti and – oh my! – some of the joint’s heavenly and freshly-made canoli.

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Even better, Tony takes us out back where he shows how he makes his Sicilian specialty marzipan lambs using 100-year-old plaster casts.

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On our way to inhale the heady sights, sounds and smells of Little Saigon Market, our group ambles to the sugar cane juice/iced coffee stand for beverages of choice.

Then it’s onward and up Barkly Street for our final destination – Dinknesh (Lucy) Restaurant and Bar.

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Here, Mulu has prepared a magnificent Ethiopian feast – I mean, how ridiculously, enticingly superb does this look?

As is unlike the case with many other Ethiopian eateries hereabouts, Mulu makes her own injera, which joins rice, a typically zesty and simple African salad, three pulse stews, four meat dishes and two of vegetables.

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I could be flip and say I happily content myself with a non-meat platter.

But “content” would be a lie – this is simply fabulous Ethiopian tucker.

I particularly like it when African cooks meet beetroot.

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To complete our journey, Mulu prepares traditional Ethiopian coffee – and as Bennie turns teen in a matter of days, I allow him his first serious taste of this forbidden fruit.

It’s strong, hot and sweet.

I’m horrified to note that he lustily knocks it back like pro!

Thanks for having us – we always learn something new in the west!

And it’s always a pleasure doing so.

Random updates

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So Bennie’s got through his second week of high school.

This has initiated major and not unwelcome changes in our home.

And a growing sense of independence for both son and father.

He’s handling the public transport and all that goes with it with aplomb.

He has his own phone, albeit a basic prepaid model.

And I’m happy for him to beat me home or be there, as was the case this week, while I am out and about on CTS-related business.

With the following ground rules – do your homework, read, chillax, no open flames and no TV until dad gets home.

It’s all going really well … except for the daily start routine.

Our longstanding 7am alarm has given way, for transport reasons, to 6am.

And it’s doing my head in.

By noon, it already seems a very long day indeed! By late afternoon, I’m cactus. I hit the hay the same time as he.

Before we know it, I’ll have him cooking our meals on a regular basis.

At the parent/staff gathering at his new school this week, one of the teachers spoke briefly about the looming challenge of puberty – his not, mine.

The gist of it was empowerment and involvement.

Truth is, I already rely on him very much for support and counsel … so I think we’re going to be fine.

There have been recent occasions on which I wished I had followed his wise advice to the letter.

I’ve mentioned the idea of me starting a sort-of father-of-a-teenage son blog.

He most adamantly thinks this is not a good idea.

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One of the rarely mentioned downsides of us all – very much including myself these days – being connected, what with mobile devices and even our Foxtel remote control and so on: It’s impossible not to know, at any given time, exactly what time it IS.

So the days of “lost track of time” have entered the realms of nostalgia.

How sad!

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Consider The Sauce Feast No.5 will hopefully be unveiled in the coming week.

And there’ll be changes to the routine.

Bigger, better … but equally delicious and enjoyable.

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As a result of my “gotta get out a bit” story, a longtime journo pal convinced me – via Facebook messages – to sign up with RSVP.

I had and have massive misgivings about this

But I did it anyway.

It feels truly weird and uncomfortable.

More than 20 souls have checked out my profile and pics, though I remain mostly clueless as to who or how they may be on account of the site requires me to pay for most such information.

And I am, so far, resisting that.

But yesterday someone who has the right attitude and the right kind of interests expressed definite interest in meeting me.

Oddly, the face and the smile are kind-of familiar.

I think she may live local – as in REALLY local.

Oh my!

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This weekend?

A Footscray frolic, the Yarraville Festival and sleep.

Lots of sleep.

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Some time in the next week or so pleasure bombs will arrive.

Namely, what will no doubt be a stupendously mindblowing and lavish box set of 1951-1983 gospel from the Nashboro label and long overdue reacquaintance with Freddie King, Little Milton, Junior Parker and Jimmy Reed.

Oh boy!

Words with baggage

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Feedback and comments are oxygen for bloggers – even when they’re not exactly in “pat on the back” territory.

This assertive comment on matters sartorial in my recent “must not get stuck in a rut” story for instance:

“Good on you Kenny. I don’t mean to sound terrible but i think you need to find yourself as a man in the appearance department. Your sponge bob tshirts and the like are not really a look that women would be attracted to. You would look amazing in a casual shirt and nice pair of pants. At your age a man should look like a respectable gentleman, not like a teenager. As many would scorn what i have just said, i am being honest in my opinion. A woman wants a man who acts and dresses like a man, not a teenage hippy boy. All the best with finding a mate, im sure you will find the perfect one for you.”

Today’s post on the fab Famous Blue Raincoat burgers spurred comments from a friend about the following paragraphs:

“We spy a young mum tucking in to a parmagiana as her partner’s steak sits unmolested.

He’s walking their toddler.

He returns; they swap roles.

Been there, done that … many, many times!”

For her, the word “unmolested” is simply too emotionally charged to be used in such a way and in such a context – especially when the following paragraph mentions a toddler.

What do you think?

I am genuinely interested to know. 

Great burgers – $12 with chips

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Famous Blue Raincoat, 25 Vernon St, South Kingsville. Phone: 9391 8520

“You look familiar – you look like a blogger!”

Ahhh, our cover is blown.

Hardly surprising, given my anonymous moustache and the fact this likely to be our third post on this Kingsville institution.

FWIW, I doubt very much that our splendid burger meals are in any way compromised, good or bad, by the ‘Coat’s knowledge that Consider The Sauce is sitting in the back garden.

This is an impromptu visit – we like that.

There’s Greek salad makings in the fridge at home, but we’ve hit the road … lured by the restaurant Facebook reminder that this is $12 burger night.

On a pleasantly muggy, hazy summer’s night, the back garden is a wonderful place to await our dinners.

We spy a young mum tucking in to a parmagiana as her partner’s steak sits unmolested.

He’s walking their toddler.

He returns; they swap roles.

Been there, done that … many, many times!

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They may have been purchased at special burger-night discount price, but it’s interesting to note that our whole meal deals end in dollar terms where a food truck stand-alone burger begins.

And here we’ve got real cutlery and crockery, and a lovely setting in which to enjoy.

The chips are deeply tanned and very good. And there’s a good-sized serve of them on both our plates.

Between standard but good buns are some greenery, tomato, beetroot, bacon and tomato relish.

All good.

The meat looks less patty and more big, fat meatball.

But they squash down well to serve our burger purposes well.

They taste magnificent – beautifully seasoned and a little bit peppery.

Bennie, happily smiling, raves about our burgers all the way home.

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Different India in Seddon

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Indian Palette, 140 Victoria Street, Seddon. Phone: 9689 8776

Indian Palette has been open quite a while – Footscray Food Blog reviewed it in early 2011.

So given the zeal with which we’ve hastened to check out many other Indian eateries blooming across the inner west, we’ve taken our time in getting here.

Happily, our dinner visit coincides with the restaurant’s half-price deal on mains and entrees on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, shaving a significant amount off our bill.

The long room is cool and rather elegant, and we enjoy the service of Sue, Francis and their staff, while the wait times are just right for the kind of food we order – we go full-on vegetarian for this dinner.

And it’s very seldom indeed that Bennie and I sup at a dining establishment with real-deal napkins.

We like and appreciate that!

The longish menu has many staples such as butter and tandoori chicken, and the Indo-Chinese element seems less obvious than at other neighbouring Indian eateries, but we are delighted to find some really novel – for us – dishes to order.

So we do.

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Mirchi bajji ($7) – fresh green chillies dipped in gram flour batter and deep fried – is a good, if rather heated, starter for us.

The batter is pliable and a little chewy. I’m proud as can be that Bennie no longer hesitates for even a millisecond when confronted with such a dish.

My boy is hot!

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Bennie also dives with relish into the kachumbar salad ($6.50) of chopped onion, tomato, cucumber and carrot with lemon dressing.

The lovely and fresh vegetables have been dusted with a mix of chilli, turmeric, garam mssala, pepper and lemon.

I would have preferred some more tomato and lemon juice to moisten things up a bit.

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Gutti vankayakura ($13) is the most wonderfully distinctive Indian dish we’ve tried since the honey-infused number enjoyed on a memorable visit to Deer Park.

About three or maybe four baby eggplants, butterflied, reside in a smoky, nutty and chilli-studded sauce.

Nutty in fact, I subsequently discover – Francis tells me the sauce involves peanuts, cashews, tamarind, sesame seeds and coconut powder.

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Our dal, gongura pappu ($13), is lentils cooked with sorrel leaves and is just as refreshingly unusual for us dal lovers.

So thick is it with sorrel leaves that it’s actually more like a vegetable stew than a soupy dal.

It starts good for me, but further in I feel a little overwhelmed by the quantity of bitter leaves and rather wish we’d ordered something a little plainer from the five-dal lineup.

Both our mains and our entree have had high, for us, spice levels, so we fully expect to be singing the Johnny Cash tune the next day.

With plain rice ($3.50) and onion raita ($5.50), our bill comes to $47.50, which comes down to a good-value $37 once the mains-entree half-price deal is factored in.

We reckon Indian Palette should be more crowded than we generally observe to be the case.

Maybe we should line up a Consider The Sauce Feast here.

Stay tuned!

The Indian Palette website is here.

 

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Werribee gets a pho joint

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Pho 128, 72 Watton St, Werribee. Phone: 8742 3128

Our plans for a long overdue first visit to a Seddon Indian place are nixed upon learning there’s parent night at Bennie’s new school.

So timing is of the essence – there are places in Werrribee we have yet to try, but their turnaround times are an unknown quantity, so we head for the town’s relatively new pho joint, Pho 128.

We wonder if it will deliver pho-house quality without the critical mass of Footscray, Sunshine or St Albans.

Pho 128 certainly looks the part, with Bennie even opining, “This looks like it’ll be good”.

But a closer inspection reveals the sort of approaches no doubt necessary in a location such as this.

There are no Vietnamese names for the dishes, for instance.

And there’s even “pho seafood”, with crabsticks.

Having earlier resolved to test Pho 128’s benchmarks – a bowl of simple, straightahead pho and one of the rice or vermicelli options – we let our curiosity run free and cave.

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Bennie’s beef stew has the correct flavour, even if it is rather tame, and the beautifully tender chunks of beef (off the bone) and carrot.

But the liquid is viscous, and perhaps even thickened, in a way you’ll never find in the likes of this Footscray institution‘s bo kho.

As well, the rice noodles are thick and white, rather than thin and transparent.

Still, Bennie likes it.

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My Vietnamese chicken curry is likewise not quite as expected.

It’s a much darker colour than the classic chook curry found at this St Albans’ fave; the gravy is thicker, too, giving the dish an almost Japanese vibe.

As ever with Vietnamese chicken curry the proof is perversely in the potato chunks – and these half-dozen or so are very fine indeed, curry-coloured to their very core.

The meat is boneless, a tad on the tough side but quite tasty.

Not meeting expectations fostered by familiarity with the west’s hardcore Viet hubs is no sin and we’ve enjoyed our quick, pre-school function meals.

But we can’t help but feel we may have well and truly goofed by not sticking with the original pho-and-rice scenario.

 

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Alien organisms in Newport

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Futurelic Art Studio/Sci Fi Silos, 1 McRobert St, Newport. Phone: 0415 704 520

Head towards Williamstown, pass the Blackshaws Road turnoff , take the next left and … arrive on another planet.

Or so it seems.

Futurelic Art Studio is the mutant baby of Lixa Brandt.

Like her gritty studio/performance space itself, she is a far cry from the studied hipster veneer of inner-city galleries of cliched fame.

The upstairs loft and dungeon-like basement are used for launch parties, ambient music events and rehearsals, while Lixa’s sci-fi sculptures adorn the ground floor.

Think Alien/Bladerunner.

Open on Sundays.

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Members only? Cruising!

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Albert Park Yachting and Angling Club, Beaconsfield Parade, Albert Park. Phone: 9690 5530

Blogging works best with a genuine spirit of giving and sharing – advice, support and more.

But there is a fine line for an ambitious blogger between pro bono and “work” that should come with some sort of pay packet.

In the case of my former Sunday Herald Sun colleague Veronica, I’m happy to make the drive to Brighton to spend a couple of hours addressing with her all sorts of philosophical, tactical and technical blog-related issues.

Especially as she’s paying for lunch.

Her blog, Australian Cruising News, has been up and running for a while, but she is only just now getting round to making it really sing.

And I’m delighted to learn she is determined to make her site less a soft mouthpiece for the industry and more the sort of feisty, lively blog I know she’s capable of producing.

Going the non-flogger route, she may ruffle a few feathers along the way but in the longer term it’ll stand her in good stead in terms of individual integrity and respect AND, somewhat perversely, eventually garner the same of respect from the industry!

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But after two-plus hours of widgets, links, tags, Facebook pages, themes and a whole lot more, we are wrung out and glazed of eye.

Given that I am planning to run a blogging course at a western suburbs community centre in the not too distant future, Veronica has done me a real service, as this has been an excellent learning experience.

The people I will teaching will be coming from way behind where Veronica is, so where initially I wondered how I was going to fill six or eight two-hour classes, now I know it will be nowhere near enough.

And I learn that patience is most certainly a teaching virtue and that ultimately people must for themselves.

I can see me issuing lots of homework assignments!

After all that, she and I are hungry – and so is her hubby, Neil.

So we head off to the Albert Park Yachting And Angling Club, of which Veronica is a member.

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The club may be “members only” but has a nice, relaxed feel.

I feel more at home and ease than I suspect I’d feel in other “members only” establishments scattered around the bay and in the CBD!

I’m told the club’s annual meeting was the previous night, to which my friends attribute the thinner-than-usual lunchtime crowd.

Likewise, they tell me the blackboard menu is less extensive than usual.

But we make do and eat well of meals that come across as good, solid pub-style tucker and that are priced accordingly.

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We share a main-serve plate of panko squid rings ($19).

Good they are, too, and the real deal, as opposed to surimi “rings”.

They’re ungreasy and fresh, with the batter sticking on fine.

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Veronica is pleased with her lemon pepper chicken salad with a yogurt dressing.

The chook piece I try is a little on the dry side, but she tells me the well-dressed salad does the lubrication job.

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Neil has the porterhouse steak ($21). I’m told he always does, in this case complementing the red–wine sauce with a dollop of good, old-fashioned sauce of the tomato variety.

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I try the grilled salmon with a potato and greens “kasoundi salad” ($22).

The fish is beautifully cooked, tender and delicious.

The salad, too, is fine, with heaps of beans and asparagus.

The kasundi element is restricted to a hefty smear of the chutney across the top of my fish portion.

Its tastes sort-of OK, bit I wish it wasn’t there – it’s a bit weird.

Blogging aside, it’s great to catch up with an old work mate.

I wonder if ears have been burning as we’ve discussed, in frank and fearless fashion, times past and those who populated them?

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Back in the game again?

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My life has seen its fair share of romance, ranging from the earth-shakingly glorious to the very much less so.

I’ve never worked at hard at it – just throwing myself into life with all the zeal and the biggest heart I can muster has always been enough.

However, a couple of recent and rather amusing incidents have had me reflecting that it’s about time I started making more of an effort in cultivating this long-neglected part of my life.

Nothing too drastic …

Spend some money on clothes so I am able to step out looking a little sharper than I do wearing my habitual current uniform of T-shirts and baggy cargo pants.

Shave more than once a week.

Be a little more assertive and a whole less ambivalent when an opportunity presents.

Stuff like that …

Some may think a hyperactive food blogger – one who even regularly hosts his own blog dinners, for heaven’s sake! – is presented with ample opportunity to generate romantic potential.

It’s true that through Consider The Sauce I have met and am continuing to meet an astonishing range of fabulous people. And yes, many of them are incredible souls of the appropriate gender.

But overwhelmingly they are much younger than I. Or married. Or both.

They bring a lot of sunshine into my life – but in this context at least, there are different kinds of sunshine.

The age thingie is no issue at all for me and I certainly don’t feel my age (21).

But I suspect it bloody well is for many women!

On the other hand, I simply can’t see myself having any truck with dating websites and the like.

So what am I looking for?

The truth is, the merest whiff of romance would make me giddy with happiness.

And I think it’s important to keep in mind what a friend and I have come to think of as “The Vanakkam Principle” – after a cool slogan above the front door of that very fine West Footscray Indian eatery:

“Cherish yesterday. Dream tomorrow. Live today.”

So, you know, a date is just a date – and not a shacking-up proposal or any other kind of proposal.

It’s time to stop being such a slacker!