Guzman Y Gomez Mexican Taqueria

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Guzman Y Gomez Mexican Taqueria, Highpoint, Maribyrnong. Phone: 9988 1401

So a Mexican fast-food franchise is setting out its shingle at Highpoint.

It’s opening day and they’re giving away burritos for four hours.

Bennie is as excited as all get out.

It’s a happening, it involves free food, it’s at Highpoint – and some of his school friends have been talking about it.

My own expectations are more measured.

I have dark visions of unruly mobs, security guards, burritos that are mini.

As well, footy practice has endured until 7pm, leaving us a bare hour of free burrito time.

On the other hand, who knows?

I have a sneaking suspicion that food of this kind may not be too much different from that of some of the fancier and far more trendy and expensive Latin American eateries blossoming all over town.

My fears are allayed immediately upon arrival.

There’s a party time atmosphere going on but there’s no mad mobs, the mariachi band is in full voice and happy to ham it up for the crowd, and our order is taken within a minute.

Sadly, because of the opening night bash, we are thwarted in our desire to run through the side dishes such as black beans.

All we can get are a guava Jarritos, some corn chips and guacamole – and a burrito apiece, of course – for a grand total of $9.

The corn chips are very nice – they seem to be unsalted and more like the cake-y variety supplied by Taco Truck.

The guacamole is really good – fresh for sure, and a nice coarse mix.

Hey, this is starting to be a fine time, indeed!

Our burrito number is called just a few minutes after our order is placed and Bennie is at the counter to grab it.

Beef guerrero (mild) for him, spicy chicken guerrero for me.

Our burritos are foil-wrapped, with soft tortillas inside.

I heartily appreciate the fact they’ve been so cannily wrapped that the juices never even get close to leaking out the bottoms – right until the last bite.

Unlike, for instance, your typical kebeb!

Bennie barely pauses for breath while downing his beef number with gusto.

I may hear the odd “Good!” or “MMMmmmm” in the eating process, but I certainly hear a loud affirmation after his work is done.

“I reckon that’s the best burrito I’ve ever had,” he opines.

When I get into my chicken job I find out why.

Putting aside any and all notions of authenticity, this is some really, really good stuff.

The charred chicken flavour comes through, and the black beans, cheese, rice, salsa and pico de gallo all work together really well. There’s a mild chilli kick, but not in every mouthful

I couldn’t be happier or more surprised.

Maybe even a little bit shocked.

Whether these will look quite as good when the full $10.50 is being charged, without sides or trimmings, remains to be seen.

I reckon they may well do so. They’re a pretty good size, even at that price.

This place replaces a branch of China Bar we will not miss in the least.

And its neighbours are the usual suspects of Pancake Parlour, La Porchetta, Nando’s, Grill’d and the like.

Providing they maintain the quality, I can’t imagine them doing anything less than brisk business.

We’ve had a ball on opening night and really enjoyed the atmosphere.

Check out of the full menu options at the company website here.

Guzman Y Gomez Mexican Taqueria Highpoint on Urbanspoon

honey & coco

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Honey & Coco, 42B Hall St, Newport. Phone: 9399 4493

It’s the neighbourhood immediately surrounding Newport train station that saw me renounce the use of public transport for my quasi-daily commute to Geelong.

Especially during the colder – and darker – months, the station and nearby shopping strips were grim, bleak and even occasionally forbidding and threatening.

In a more relaxed space on a sunny mid-week mid-day, the vibe is quite a bit more welcoming.

Not that this appears even now as a foodie destination.

There’s a range of traders doing most things most locals probably need, but it’s hard to conjure up more enthusiasm than that.

Perhaps the Thai restaurant? Prices pretty steep by our standards, but I have a hunch it’ll be a good one when – not if – we finally visit.

There’s two cafes of the urban chic variety – one either side of the tracks.

But the prices in one scare me a bit when I am only seeking a cheap and cheerful lunch.

And the other has a dauntingly high baby/toddler head count whenever I’m in the vicinity.

Which is how I find myself settling into Honey & Coco.

It has a slightly more utilitarian feel than its two immediate competitors, but it smells good, and the deal is sealed when I spy something on the menu that I find I want and didn’t even realise it.

The enticing aroma, I suspect, is emanating from the day’s soup special, vegetable, which the majority of customers are enjoying.

There’s a smallish range of filled Turkish loaves that look pretty good, while the muffins, cupcakes and so on seem standard.

But I go for the Greek salad.

It’s available with various protein additions at a price, but I keep it plain and simple, seeking a light, healthy, crunchy lunchy.

Surprisingly for lunch-on-the run cafe-type places of any stripe, my salad is made to order and from scratch.

It’s thus super dooper fresh – the cos lettuce is especially toothsome.

If there are things about it I’d prefer to be otherwise – plain olive oil instead of a balsamic dressing of some kind that stains the fetta cheese brown, the cheese itself too highly crumbled, kalamata olives I’d rather the stones were still in, the ’70s-’80s rock music – I’m prepared to write them off as personal preferences.

And at $10 with two segments of Turkish bread, it’s a good price for a big serve.

I’m happy with my lunch.

My cafe latte is even better – very good, in fact.

Honey & Coco has a down-to-earth warmth and welcome that has obviously earned the loyalty of the regulars who come and go as I enjoy my time there.

Honey & Coco on Urbanspoon

A letter to Padre Coffee

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Hello there!

 May name is Kenny – I am a father, foodie, journalist and blogger.

 Yesterday, during a visit to South Melbourne Market, I enjoyed a Padre café latte.

 It was excellent; the highlight of my visit by far.

 The staff were very professional and helpful.

 However, I couldn’t help but notice they were all very young.

 I really hope your company is not one that, in pursuit of a certain look and image, turns its back on mature age workers!

 How totally unhip would that be?

 Cheers, Kenny Weir

Chick pea stew

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This unusual dish is a slightly tweaked version of the recipe found in Michele Sicolone’s 1,000 Italian Recipes.

Sadly, she doesn’t say where it comes from – it has all the hallmarks of some sort of regional food.

You could call such a dish homely or rustic.

You could also call it unappealing or even ugly.

I’ve found with such dishes that the trimmings – some chopped parsley, grated Italian cheese, VOO drizzled when the stew is in the bowl, good bread on the side – make all the difference.

Of course, it tastes better than it looks.

Plain but yummy …

INGREDIENTS

2 cups chick peas,

1 head silverbeet

1 onion

1 clove garlic

salt

pepper

virgin olive oil

parsley

METHOD

1. Soak chick peas over night

2. Next day, boil chick peas in enough water to cover until cooked, drain but keep cooking water.

3. Strip silverbeet leaves from stems.

At this point, the recipe is unclear whether, when it comes time to cooking the silverbeet,  it should be dry or still holding water from being rinsed.

In this case, the silverbeet is definitely gritty and in need of a wash, so … water it is.

4. Chop onion semi-finely. Peel garlic but do not chop.

5. Fry onion and garlic until golden – about 10 minutes.

6. Add shredded silverbeet and cook for 10 minutes until wilted.

7. Add chick peas and enough of the cooking to cover and then a bit more.

8. Add salt, pepper.

9. Cook and cover for 30 minutes.

10. By this time, some of the chick peas will have started to disintegrate. Mash some more of them with your wooden spoon against the side of the pot.

10. Throw in chopped parsley, turn off the heat and let the stew rest for five minutes

11. Place in bowls and drizzle with olive oil.

12. Eat.

Sadly, unlike many of the other pulse dishes we cook, this one doesn’t freeze well at all.

As we eat, I can tell Bennie isn’t digging on this – I presume because it isn’t the most kid-friendly stew going around.

“In actual fact,” he says, “it’s because I’m not exactly keen on chick peas …”

Sheesh – and here’s me thinking I know my own kid!

I dunno – maybe he did and now he doesn’t.

He does, however, dig on the fact it doesn’t freeze well!

South Melboune Market

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South Melbourne Market, 322-326 Coventry St, South Melbourne.

Having mused on the mindset that allows us to treat a suburb as far distant as Coburg as part of own backyard yet finds South and Port Melbourne – just over the bridge – pretty much out of sight and mind, it seems a fine time to make a relatively rare visit to South Melbourne Market.

Any hopes the shocking weather will ease the car-parking situation are confirmed as forlorn as I ascend to the roof-top and several patience-taxing delays.

There’s a lot of folks looking spaces.

The first two hours of parking are free, which is good.

All the ATMs appear to be of the $2.50 variety, which is bad.

It’s obviously been a while as many changes to the market are noted.

A part of the market interior now has several stalls of a more upmarket variety – manchester, clothes, shoes and even flash bicycles.

The whole of the Cecil St side of the market has acquired a series of more-or-less bona fide restaurants – Chinese dumplings/roast meats, Italian, Spanish, seafood – to join the familiar SMM dimmies.

The street stall paella sure looks and smells a whole heap better than is usually the case with such ricey enterprises.

Perversely if somewhat predictably, I still prefer the old-school food hall on the other side of the market.

More room, cheaper prices, proximity to the fabulous deli, meat and seafood stalls …

Equally predictably and perversely, I am lured to the Vietnamese stall called BaBa.

They have banh mi makings on display and you can get soup noodles and vermicelli dishes here.

But my eye is drawn to the stall’s Indian dishes.

Indian and Vietnamese?

I’ve seen Indian and kebabs, Indian and pizza, but this is a first.

My plate of vegetable curry, dal and rice, a can of soft drink and a meat samosa costs $12.50.

The samosa is on the oily side, but the filling is good and meaty. The parcel as a whole could only loosely be described as Indian food, though. No matter!

It has a nice chilli kick, as do my two plate courses.

The curry of carrot, beans, onion and more starts at a nice clip but fades off the pace a bit.

The dal is much better – yellow split peas with a nice touch of firmness left in them, the whole having a plain but very appealing flavour.

That’s down to, I subsequently discover, crushed tomatoes, tamarind, turmeric, salt and water.

While in the food hall, I grab a bag of Turkish rolls from Aroma Bakery.

These may be just right for lunches for the forthcoming week, feeling as they do a bit fresher and lighter than the supermarket variety or their ciabatta cousins.

We usually find both too heavy, stale and/or large, so the balance of bread to filling is way out of whack.

I get my post-lunch coffee from Padre, which seems to be one of those new-school cool coffee chains staffed exclusively by young hipsters.

My cafe latte is perfect, outstanding and puts a smile on my dial.

I have an interesting conversation with Ida from Ida’s Alterations.

Me, pointing at the sign: “Ida’s such lovely old-fashioned name – are you Ida?”

Ida: “My son, my son …”

Me: “Your son’s name is Ida?”

Ida: “No, the sign, the sign!”

Right – she’s Ida, he did the sign …

I grab onions, silverbeet and apples from one of the fresh stalls.

South Melbourne Market?

Nice for a visit every now and then.

But I still had to stop in Anderson St for milk, yogurt and dishwash liquid.

Padre Coffee on Urbanspoon

Waldies 7th Birthday Sausage Sizzle

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Waldies, 168 Victoria St, Seddon. Phone: 9689 3806

A couple of $2 snags-in-bread topped with Maggi mustard does me fine for lunch.

And none of your fancy pants kranskys, either, thank you very much.

The sausage sizzle hosted by one of our local old-school bakeries is being run on behalf of the Hyde Street Youth Band, which has been a performing unit since 1928.

The kids play some goofy, fun stuff that has echoes of New Orleans.

The barbie is manned cheerfully by Greg and Pina.

Mr Waldie himself (below) tells me it’s about the fifth year he’s had the band crew in for a birthday gig/sizzle and he really loves having them there.

Waldies Bakery on Urbanspoon

Motorino delivers

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Motorino, 29a Vernon St, South Kingsville. Phone 9399 2121

We’ve let Motorino, Kingsville’s popular and by all accounts very cool pizza ‘n’ pasta place, escape our attentions thus far.

But the arrival in our letterbox of a menu and the vital information the place is doing home deliveries allows scope for a special treat.

The order is …

One large Smashed Sicilian green olive pizza with Motorino pesto, ricotta, bocconcini and chilli ($14).

One Salad Motorino of iceberg lettuce, bocconcini, tomato, cucumber, red onion, lemon, olive oil and Kalamata olives ($11).

The pie is barely lukewarm by the time it’s made the short journey to Yarravile but it matters not – because this is a ripper.

There’s no discernible chilli quotient, but there’s basil leaves along with the advertised ingredients.

The various flavours work really well together, though some may find this blend a bit on the salty side.

This is one of the cheaper and lighter pizzas on the Motorino menu and it’s a clear winner, with enough topping to make a meal yet not to make the base soggy, with crusts nicely crunchy but just as yummo as the rest.

The salad is not of the same high standard.

There’s certainly plenty of it.

And the lettuce, cheese balls, onion, olives, tomato and cumber are all fresh as.

But somehow the end result is less than the sum of its parts, even when doused with accompanying tub of olive oil and drizzled with the contents of the juicy lemon wedge.

Perhaps the plainer, cheaper rocket, olive oil, balsamic and parmesan salad ($9) would be a better choice.

Still, based on this meal it seems little wonder Motorino is so well loved.

And it’s certainly a big step up in class from our usual pizza delivery results. The tangy green olives on the pizza, for instance, belong in a different world from the rancid little black turds of olive found on your basic Aussie pizza.

Could be it’s time for a visit!

There seems to be no minimum order for Motorino home delivery but there is a modest delivery fee of $2.

The Motorino website is here.

Motorino on Urbanspoon

Far too early for a Collins St dental appointment …

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Flinders St pepper.

So out of the loop, so to speak, am I in regards to the public transport system, that I arise, breakfast, buy a hard-to-find daily Metcard from a bus outside Yarraville station and get to the CBD with more than an hour to spare.

So I take my time getting to my toothy destination.

My leisurely pace is right out of whack with the mass of humanity scrurrying around me.

Echoes of a previous life spent living and working here are profound – everything seems the same, everything has changed.

There’s a lot power walking, power coffee and power clothes.

There’s a lot more cyclists whizzing by than I recall.

This is like an 8.45am 2012 take on John Bracks’ iconic Collins St 5pm.

Look – no queues at Mamasita!

In that other life, I’d passed by Cafe Alcaston, on the corner of Collins and Spring streets,  a thousand times without ever stepping inside. For some reason, I’d always believed it to be a basement cubby hole, with windows looking out on to pedestrian footwear.

Over an excellent cafe latte, I reflect on the fact it’s actually up a few stairs.

It’s also very much the intimate hideaway I’d always imagined.

Getting down to business, I say good morning to the tooth fishes.

Not only am I heaps early, I’ve also forgotten to bring some CDs, leaving me at the mercies of my dentist’s hodge-podge collection.

Gawd!

Flinging aside the likes of the Rod Stewart, the Bee Gees and new-age claptrap, we settle on an album grandly entitled Monty Python Sings.

As Jen prepare to examine my damaged filling, the strains of Always Look On Bright Side Of Life fill the surgery.

As it quickly transpires, there is indeed a very bright side to this visit.

All that is required is a partial rebuild of a filling on a tooth from which the root has long been removed.

No needles, zero pain and about as little of the financial variety as is possible these days.

In and out in under half an hour.

Sweet!

On the way back to Flinders St station, I pass trendy restaurants about which I have read but never expected to see – Cumulus, Papa Goose and more.

The odds of me ever eating at any of them remain very long.

Long before I thought possible and in much better nick than I’d expected, I’m happily on my way home.

Breakfast at Cumulus.

Rosati smiley face.

Beware of skateboarding rhinos?

Dragon Express

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Dragon Express, 28 City Place, Sunshine. Phone: 9312 6968

Some of the overwhelming positives of doing Consider The Sauce have been somewhat as expected.

One of those is the fact that of joyful necessity we’ve found ourselves roaming far and wide, knocking on strange doors and venturing down alleyways we may never have otherwise contemplated, finding fine food at the end of our journeys with regular non-monotony.

But there have been many unexpected delights along the way, too.

High among them is the continuing pleasure of getting feedback from fellow westie food lovers and many others, some of whom are becoming friends and dining companions.

But perhaps the most unexpected joy of the “job” is putting bums on seats of eateries that richly deserve them to be there.

Honestly, we lost count long ago of the number of restaurant staff, managers, owners, cooks and families who have thanked us so charmingly for simply writing it as we saw it.

Often enough, too, this sort of gratitude has come from businesses likely – in some cases extremely unlikely – to get a run on most other Melbourne food blogs, let along in the press, be it The Age, Herald Sun or the suburban rags.

Nor by and large have these fulsome “thank yous” come from joints likely to have a marketing or media social strategy, or even know what social media is.

However, this has led to a bit of a dilemma for the Consider The Sauce team.

We are these days being offered free food on a somewhat regular basis.

We’ve had to explain that, no, we are not looking for a free feed and we’re not going to charge for a run on our site.

Nor are we out there actively seeking freebie meals, as some blogs seem to do.

If any restaurateur tried to buy a positive review with free food we’d not only refuse, we’d probably flee and eat elsewhere.

However, when the offer is made for words already written and as a symbol of gratitude, it seems to us things get a bit more tricky.

So along the way, a few coffees have gone unpaid for.

A scrumptious gulab jamun has been added as an extra on the basis of a post written some weeks before.

The most startling event along these lines came with our Saturday lunch at Oriental Charcoal BBQ, when the staff – once they realised bloggers and friends were in the house – proceeded to brings out several more dishes for us to try.

Look, we’ll always endeavour to pay our way.

We’ll be upfront when we don’t, including a disclaimer in the post and its end – but hopefully not as longwinded as this one!

But there comes a point when continuing to refuse hospitality being offered out of gratitude for a piece written under genuine review guidelines becomes uncomfortable and maybe even rude.

Does that sound fair? Is it a cop-out?

In any case, that is the situation that presents itself to me as I front up to Dragon Express in Sunshine for a mid-week lunch.

Bennie and I had enjoyed our earlier visit there, and copies of the review from that visit now adorn both the front window and inside walls of the restaurant, along with similar epistles from Footscray Food Blog and The Age.

On a subsequent visit to the area, Dragon Express owner Lim spied us, joining us on the footpath outside his restaurant to express his gratitude and maintain with some determination that he would not hear of us paying for our next visit.

So it goes … take that on board when reading what follows!

Whereas my earlier meal here with Bennie had involved very enjoyable but more or less straight-up Cantonese dishes, this lunchtime I am bent on exploring some of the more exotic areas of the restaurant’s menu.

And I intend to do so without getting too hung up about concepts of authenticity.

If it’s good … that’s great!

Two beef curry puffs, for instance are very enjoyable – but quite different from you’ll find at your favourite Malaysian eating house.

Crisp, flaky pastry (filo?) well fried and ungreasy; tasty potato and nobbly mince filling that seems a little more like a samosa filling than the smooth mash usually found in curry puffs.

The Indian echoes are, of course, accentuated by the puffs’ triangular shape.

They’re tasty snacks at a good price.

I muse on what a Dragon Express laksa may taste like, then order something I haven’t eaten for quite a long while – in any sort of restaurant.

My hokkien mee ($10) is, frankly, delicious, but again very much like a Chinese restaurant doing its take on a Malaysian staple.

There’s no prawns or fish cake for starters, and the protein bits frolicking happily with the fat noodles – chicken, beef, pork – are all cut in the Chinese fashions, as are the greens.

None of this matters a bit to me, because it’s a winning combo, the rich, dark, sweet and sticky sauce being a more than acceptable facsimile of those found in Malaysian places.

But wait – there’s more!

Served on the side is a small bowl of the house-made chilli oil, something I’ve never been provided with hokkien mee or any other sort of Malaysian noodles.

But, oh man, this stuff is great!

Unlike the chilli oil found in Vietnamese pho places and the like, this is dry and crunchy.

It provides spiciness, texture AND a smoky flavour to my noodles and I love it a lot.

Lim tells me it’s made from very finely diced onion, from which the juice is extracted, oil, salt and chilli.

Before I leave, Lim and I shake hands on it – this will be our first, last and only freebie.

An interesting conversation about the ethics, ins and outs of bloggers, reviewers, journalists and other freeloaders (!) accepting freebie food can be found in the comments that accompany the review of The Reading Room at Footscray Food Blog.

My meal at Dragon Express was provided free of charge by the owner. Dragon Express has not been given any editorial control of this post.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!

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