Ebi Fine Food

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Ebi Fine Food, 18A Essex St, Footscray. Phone: 9689 3300

It’s been a year since Consider The Sauce started and what a fabulous time we’ve had.

Right from the start, though, and without thinking too hard about it or really trying, we have instinctively tried to find our own way, avoiding places and businesses that are too regularly lauded, reviewed and serially blogged, sometimes to excess.

Some things, however, simply can’t be denied.

The pleasures, personality, character, pricing and, well, fine foods make Ebi Fine Foods one of them.

As regulars know, this West Footscray Japanese eatery-cum-fish ‘n’ chip shop is on the diminutive side.

Seating is restricted to half a dozen or so stools facing the kitchen, two two-person tables inside and a couple of bigger tables on the footpath outside.

We’re casual visitors, though, and have never bothered booking. Our early-ish dinner times usually see us right, anyhow.

This night, though, we’re hitting the joint after 7pm, the result of an inspired spur-of-the-moment decision after football practice.

Our luck holds as we gleefully snag the last pair of stools at the bar.

It’s busy, busy, busy.

The place is doing a roaring takeaway trade.

The banter flies between boss man John and regular customers coming and going.

Happily, all this activity falls well on the right side of adding to the experience, as opposed to falling into the simply-too-much bag.

I fancy straying into the Japanese territory on the menu, instead of the fish and chips I’ve had every other time we’ve been here.

Bennie insists on ordering the bento of the day.

So there I am … once again ordering the fish and chips I’ve had every other time we’ve been here.

No problem!

My large serve ($12.50) involves two mindblowingly scrumptious chunks of the fish of the day, gurnard. The batter is crispy and holds well to the fish, the white flesh of which is superbly cooked, being tender yet also offering just the right amount of resistance to the bite.

Oh my!

My plate of joy is completed by a piece each of tofu and the eggy slice usually found on sushi, two kinds of pickle (preserved and freshly made), some good greenery and lovely mayo for fish and chip dipping purposes.

If the handsome bowl of chips on the side are a few percentage points below the state-of-the-art levels that are routine here, they’re so close it matters not.

Bennie’s bento ($15) is equally fabulous, mostly attended by the same Japanese bits and pieces as my fried platter – with a few different twists.

One is a smallish half-bulb of grilled eggplant with a gooey miso sauce – nasu dengaku. Watching this being sucked up by the lad is profoundly enjoyable, as this is the only place in the entire known universe that Bennie will not only eat eggplant but be thrilled by it.

His slow-cooked boneless beef ribs in red miso consist of two hearty meat pieces that come across as a Japanense version of Italy’s osso buco. A with the fish, the meat is tender but with just the right amount of bitey-ness.

The gravy is sweet, sticky, unctuous, delicious.

Quite apart from the quality of the food and the experience here, the prices are astonishing.

Price is relative, of course – the previous night we’d eaten a rice dish at Pandu’s, one that could feed both of us no problem for a cost of $8.90.

But still …

Fish, chips of this quality, with such lovely trimmings for $12.50? Insane, amazing!

Similarly for Bennie’s bento at a price of $15. You’ll find cheaper bentos in the CBD, but none matching the quality of food found here. And at places such as Kuni’s, you can pay a whole bunch more.

As our dinner activities wind down, from the general banter going on it becomes apparent that for a bloke sitting at one of the tables behind us this is the third dinner here this week.

A small part of me thinks: “Geez, mate, get a life!”

The rest of me is envious.

Here’s a tip:

According to the yet-to-be-completed website address found on John’s business card, it seems he’s soon to go mobile.

Ebi Fine Food on Urbanspoon

China Bar

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10 Pratt St, Moonee Ponds. Phone: 9370 1188

Like Kuni’s, the China Bar in Russell St was a familiar and regular part of my routine when working and living in the CBD.

It was and is a popular place, its reputation seemingly built on consistency and late opening hours.

China Bar, is of course, something of a misnomer, as most customers at the outlets spread across Melbourne order food that has its origins in Malaysia or even Thailand.

In any case, the China Bar in Moonee Ponds has never caught our eye in the same way.

Maybe that’s just down to change or to some unsatisfactory experiences at the Highpoint China Bar.

But a few weeks back we stopped by the Ponds joint to grab some barbecue pork to takeaway, if only to save ourselves making another stop, in Footscray, on the way home.

While there, we saw some pretty keen-looking tucker being consumed and made a mental note.

A return for a Sunday lunch was a surprise that maybe shouldn’t have been a surprise at all.

One of the dishes I almost always ordered at Russell St was the achar, so I am pleased to see it still on the menu.

 The price has crept up ($6), though. Should I?

Curiosity wins out, and I’m ever so glad.

It’s got carrot, pineapple, cabbage, cauliflower, cucumber and sesame seeds.

It’s chilled, crunchy, only a little oily, with profound vinegar flavour but only a mild chilli hit.

It’s perfect in every way.

This augurs well for my main fare, another dish remembered with fondness from Russell St forays, one with which we’ve had hit and miss experience in the west – hainannese chicken rice ($10.80).

The soup is of perfect hotness, not too salty and tasty in a way that strongly suggests flavour enhancers. I care not.

The rice isn’t quite as super as I recall, but more than adequate.

The chicken is tender and flavoursome. I don’t mind chicken being bone-in, but if it’s bone-free I expect, demand that it be scrupulously so – as it is here.

There’s plenty of soy sauce-flavoured water under my chook to pour in the rice, along with an OK and mildish chili sauce and a lovely, coarse mash of spring onion, ginger and oil. The remnants of the soup also go on the rice.

It’s very, very good – even if just a smidgeon short of the achar’s outstandingness.

Maybe it just goes to show … nostalgia IS what it used to be and familiarity with the China Bar brand has bred some unjustified contempt.

On the basis of this visit, it seems the Moonee Ponds China Bar has the wood over those two much talked and blogged about Malaysian establishments in Flemington, Chef Lagenda and Laksa King.

If the achar and chicken rice are so good, there seems no reason why other Malay staples aren’t just as hot.

China Bar may not offer the same “eating out” vibe as those two Flemo places, but that’s of little concern to us.

I suspect we’ll be back soon.

China Bar - Noodle & Rice Bar on Urbanspoon

Kuni’s

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56 Little Bourke St, Melbourne. Phone: 9663 7243

The news at the dentist is not good.

Well, it’s probably pretty much OK for him, but not me, his long-time customer/client/patient/whatever.

What smug presumption had led me to believe would be a replaced filling worth a few hundred dollars turns out to be crown work going way over a grand.

This rather wipes out the satisfaction of hearing, later in the day, exactly how much the taxman is going to reimburse me this year.

Turns out my dentist is going to get more than half of it.

So it goes … what to do when in the CBD and needing a few rough edges finessed off the day?

Lunch, of course!

Before the advent of Bennie, I worked in or near the CBD for 20 years or so, even living in Flinders Lane for a couple.

Even since the move way out west, we made frequent CBD trips for wing chun and other adventures and chores. The martial arts logistics are beyond us, for the time being, so a city visit has become something of a novelty.

In my CBD years, Kuni’s was a favourite and a regular. I hit it for lunch often, and sometimes two or more times a week. It’s an old campaigner in terms of Chinatown in general and CBD Japanese eateries in particular, though it never seems get the same reverential press as the likes of Kenzan and Hanabishi.

On those working week lunches so long ago I almost always made a point of being on my ownsome, with a book or newspapers for company, as I sat at one of the stools at Kuni’s sushi bar.

I was on nodding familiarity with a number of other regulars who adhered to the same routine as I. There seemed to be a sort of unspoken expectation that this was our own individual hideaway and secret. A refuge, if you like, wherein conversation was to be discouraged.

The sushi bar at Kuni’s – sigh! – is where I head to sup and sip the devastating dentist visit out of mind, body and soul, with a copy of hot-off-presses GRAM Magazine for reading purposes.

LIke many other Melbourne stalwarts, not much has changed at Kuni’s over the years, though some remodelling has seen those stools have been replaced by ordinary chairs.

And the prices have crept up, of course. The daily bento is $19. Teishoku dishes such as wafu steak or sukiyaki with rice and miso soup are all $20 or more. Yakisoba noodles are $16 and most of the various sushi/sashimi combos at or around the $30 mark.

There’s cheaper Japanese places in the vicinity, but there’s a sure pleasure to be had at chowing down in a real dinkum bona fide Japanese restaurant.

So much so I am happy to pay $18 for the vegetable set, enjoy every bite and sip and consider it money very well spent, even if just for old time’s sake and assured banishment of the Dentistry Blues.

The miso soup is good, the right temperature and studded with tiny cubes of tofu, though lacking seaweed or mushrooms.

The tempura I eat first while it’s hot and crispy. It’s very good and made up of a piece apiece of pumpkin, potato, carrot, green bean and capsicum.

The agedashi tofu is beaut, the two still-crunchy chubby chunks of silken tofu swimming in a broth of dashi and mirin and topped with a sludge of finely grated daikon and also ginger. Quite refined and mild of flavour, I love it.

The sesame spinach is just OK, its coldness lending it a clamminess that seems out of step with the other, fine dishes.

My three pieces of cucumber-stuffed hosomaki sushi are fine, and have a little mound of pickled ginger for company.

A bowl of rice, which as per usual I only nibble at, and that’s it.

It’s been a delight to revisit an old friend and find that some things never, or hardly ever, change.

Crown work clocking in at $1200 or more? I’ll worry about that in a few weeks’ time!

The Kuni’s website is here.

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Falafel Omisi

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359 Hawthorn Rd, Caulfield. Phone: 9523 8882

Despite the many and spectacularly varied food options on our side of Melbourne, there are some things it simply doesn’t do.

Kosher/Israeli food is one of them, unless our western suburbs are hoarding yet another surprising secret – always on the cards!

That’s why we’re on adventure time as we head over the bridge, up Kingsway and Brighton Rd, and along Glenhuntly Rd. The Sunday noon-hour traffic is a cruise. West coast hard bop from Frank Rosolino and Charlie Mariano goes down a  treat. Wheee!

That latter thoroughfare is traffic hazard, so plentiful and interesting are its foodie options. Maybe food bloggers should be made to drive with blinkers on!

In no time, though, we are at Hawthorn Rd, securing a two-hour car park right opposite Falafel Omisi.

It’s been going a mere eight days, is the brainchild of Yaakov Omisi, and is based on his grandparents’ Middle Eastern cafe in Israel.

The style is cheap ethnic fast food, but very comfortable and welcoming for the likes of us.

The menu is compact and easy to navigate.

We start with the falafel plate ($10), pretty as a picture.

It boasts a handful of average chips, a mixed green salad of the type so familiar to us from our various Middle Eastern haunts, a mayo-dressed red cabbage salad, unadorned white cabbage and carrot, and nice glob of good fresh hummus.

The highlight is the good serving of fresh, hot falafel balls. They’re lightly crispy on the outside, with pale golden interiors.

Next up is malawach ($8) – “pastry served with a boiled egg served in a pita pocket with choice of salads”.

The crunchy flat bread seems to be an Israeli version of the universal flat bread.

The filling is fine, although lacking – by our tastebuds – something by way zest and vim.

In fact, our food is plain.

Truth is, though, we so habitually inhale tucker that is spicy or otherwise heavily seasoned – not to mention salty and oily! – that we are happy assume that we frequently struggle with subtlety and nuance.

Certainly, we enjoy our lunch.

And we’ll return for more of those falafels. And to try the sabich ($8.50) – “fried eggplant with a boiled egg served in a pita pocket with choice of salads”.

After we’ve eaten, Yaakov is happy to spend a little time with us, talking about the food, the restaurant and his family’s roots in Yemen.

Outside of Israel, he explains, there are Jewish communities – albeit often tiny – in just about all Middle Eastern countries. Rather a different perspective on the endless “us versus them” nature of media coverage of the Middle East, eh?

As well, he maintains that Israel – being so richly multicultural – is unparalled in the world in terms of its food offerings.

That’s something to think about for a dad who has always thought his first foodie holiday with Bennie would be in New Orleans or Vietnam.

The Falafel Omisi Facebook page is here.

And thanks again to fine folk at GRAM Magazine for the tip!

Falafel Omisi on Urbanspoon

7-Eleven slurpee

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In Bennie’s rugby competition, scores are kept not at all, or at least very informally.

Thus there is some debate about the result of today’s game.

I reckon Box Hill beat Footscray by at least a couple of tries.

Bennie reckons it was a draw.

No matter – Bennie laid on a couple of beaut try-saving tackles full of grit and determination.

For which endeavours he was named man of the match, along with his mate Netty, both receiving coupons for a 7-Eleven slurpee.

Of course, redeeming our coupon was a matter of utmost urgency following the completion of the game.

So we headed straight to our nearest outlet to get the whole loathsome business over and done with.

He chooses orange spider as his flavour.

He, of course, loves the hell out of it.

I ask him if it is sweet or sour.

“A little bit of both, actually,” is the reply.

He finishes it back at home.

“That was really, really good,” is his final summation.

Gave him a brain freeze, though!

Tai Hoong Cafe

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197 Nelson Place, Williamstown. Phone: 9397 5781

Does the Vietnamese food found in Melbourne’s restaurants lessen in yumminess the further it gets away from Footscray, Sunshine, St Albans, Victoria St and Springvale Rd?

Sadly, based on our mid-week jaunt to Tai Hoong, it is tempting to draw just such a conclusion.

This is doubly disappointing.

For one, we’ve had some cracking meals here in the past.

For two, one of the dishes we’ve enjoyed most is one we order to share on this occasion.

The bo luc lac ($13) seems a pallid version of the lively dish we’ve enjoyed previously, even if those visits were a while back.

The runny fried egg is good, as is the rice.

The beef is tender but a tad gloopy with some sort of soy sauce, one that seems to have a vinegary flavour to it. Mind you, for all we know this could be a proper and authentic variation, and it is quite tasty. The onions are a little under-done.

There’s a complete absence of garnishes, cucumber, tomato or any sort of greenery. Perhaps we only realise how integral such items are to a dish such as this when they’re missing.

We’re mighty hungry, so wolf the lot – but this falls into the category of just OK.

The chicken curry with rice – also $13 – is considerably better.

The bowl holds a surprisingly large amount of tender, boneless chicken pieces and – so pleasingly – an even greater number of luscious potato cubes.

Still, despite the inclusion of a handful of curry leaves, the flavour and taste factors are so middle of the road as to define blandness, putting this also into just OK territory.

Tai Hoong remains a pleasant suburban eating house, and while the prices we pay are $3-4 higher than those in Footscray for the same fare, we hope the ordinariness of our meal is an aberration.

After our meal, and still feeling a mite hungry, we head along Nelson Place with the idea of indulging in a sweet crepe and coffee hit.

We are shocked to discovery the crepery has been replaced by a Croatian restaurant.

The menu is of mouth-watering nature and includes all sorts of seafood, wild boar and apple strudel. It’s pricey, but we make a mental note for future reference.

We make do with a cone apiece – choc caramel for him, chocolate gelati for me – from the Ice Cream Shoppe next to Tai Hoong.

As we window shop the other end of Nelson Parade, Bennie comments about the number of joints hereabouts that have signs advertising “$17 specials” for the likes of parmas, steaks and the like.

Hmmm, moving right along … and homewards bound.

Tai Hoong Cafe on Urbanspoon

Pho Ngon

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6 East Esplanade, St Albans. Phone: 9364 3838

The body has long been accustomed to the fact small-size pho is perfectly suited to my time in life.

The mind still has problems.

Thus it is that I gaze greedily at the medium and large bowls that whiz by, contrasting them with contemplation of what seems like a paltry serve in front of me.

The mind, of course, is playing tricks.

My lunch – a small serve of beef and chicken combo – is plenty big enough and plenty good, especially once loaded with bean sprouts and greenery.

The broth, clean and fresh, is of the mild, restrained variety, being neither overtly beefy nor heavily influenced by seasoning such a star anise.

The beef is very good, and that the chicken has some of the cool, chewy and gristly bits – instead of mere sliced breast meat – is fine and dandy by me.

Pho Ngon is a brand new old-school pho joint in St Albans, the existence of which we have been alerted to by CTS visitor Josephine.

The furnishings in black-stained timber, the menus on the wall – all is as you’d expect.

Pho prices are $7, $8 and $9.

But while pho, spring rolls and vermicelli dominate the menu, Pho Ngon boasts enough extra rice and noodle dishes – beyond the predictable – to offer more variety than might otherwise be expected.

Bennie, just for instance, couldn’t be happier with his dry egg noodles with crispy chicken (mi ga chien don kho, $8.50).

An unexpected plus here is the use of flat egg noodles, which give his meal the appearance and feel of a rustic pasta dish from another part of the world entirely. The noodles are awash with a sweetish, garlicky sauce and embedded with crunchy shallots, bean shoots, onion and cashews.

The serve of chicken is largish for this kind of dish and appears to be good and tender, coming away from the bone easily.

The soup-on-the-side Bennie leaves enjoyably until last. He tells me it’s not salty, not sweet, just OK.

Also a bonus are the outgoing cheerful of the staff – completely accepting of and unthreatened by photograph-taking, God bless ’em – and the 10 per cent “grand opening discount” we receive.

We almost have them fooled that I am merely Bennie’s older brother.

We find out, too, that the only we’re going to get our hands on one of the fluorescent orange polo shirts bearing the Pho Ngon logo worn by the staff is by working there.

A quick post-lunch stroll up one side of Alfrieda St reveals that the place previous known to us as Just Good Food has had a name change.

Moonee Ponds Kebab House

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Shop 1/19 Homer St, Moonee Ponds. Phone: 9372 7569

There are times when Puckle St, Moonee Ponds, and surrounds can seem like a foodie playground rich with potential.

There are others when it conveys to us something of a profound mediocrity, even during a bustling Saturday lunch hour.

The latter is the case for us in this instance, with the joint we had specifically set out to try closed and others surveyed while wandering around offering little by way of inspiration.

Always, though, the Consider The Sauce team is willing to embrace with fervour the splendid concept of the silver lining.

So it is that we finally chow down at a place we had previously passed by on numerous occasions.

If our typical Turkish kebab shop meal doesn’t quite match the lofty heights of our favourite, it does the job, the price is very right and we’ll visit again in a heartbeat if we are in the area and looking for a cheap, tasty feed.

We had already survived the folly of shopping on empty stomachs, filling up on the makings for a big pot of minestrone and the related but different ingredients for an even bigger pot of chicken stock at Fresh On Young.

Unsurprisingly, though, our appetites are humming as we head for lunch.

The fare is very basic at Moonee Ponds Kebab House – only four dips, and the pides seem pricey at $7.

We settle on the lamb-off-the-spit platter with red capsicum and the cacik/yogurt/cucumber dips, with two stuffed vine leaves on the side at 90 cents each.

The vine leaves themselves are somewhat on the chewy side, and a little bitter, too. But the rice innards are excellent and lemony.

The bread is fresh and warm, and the dips lacking character and zing, though perfectly adequate for the job at hand.

The lamb and the salad are top-notch. In fact, at $12 and of a size more than ample to feed the pair of us, the lamb platter is an outright winner, especially given that we know of other such establishments where such is going for $14 and more.

The layered lamb is fresh, not too greasy, a little on the crunchy side and has the lip-smacking, salty tang so essential to this genre of tucker.

The salad – not tabouli – is ultra-fresh and crunchy.

Meat, salad, dips, two stuffed vine leaves and a can of that Coca Cola stuff? The fee of $15.80 is a super dooper bargain, and the service is smilingly friendly.

Heading somewhat aimlessly home, we stop at Crumbs Organic Bakery in Ascot Vale for cafe latte, hot chocolate and a shared and stupendously moist chunk of chocolate brownie, along with three or four hands of Uno, at which Bennie bests his father through his usual means – cheating. (Just kidding!)

Bennie has had school holiday rugby-free Saturday, but we make another stop on the way home to watch some of the Footscray big boys run around. Thankfully, the lad is sufficiently stuffed and has a ball hooning with some of his teammates that we depart knowing the burgers and egg-and-bacon sangers can await blogging coverage on a future game day.

Chiba Sushi Bar

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43 Puckle St, Moonee Ponds. Phone: 9326 2916

Japanese curry? Doesn’t get discussed by curry nuts in the same zealous manner as spice-laden dishes from throughout Asia – and, these days, the rest of the world – does it?

And while I’ve known folks who have lived in or spent some time in Japan who have a soft spot for that nation’s version of curry, for me it’s always been a matter “prefer others” when it comes to Japanese food.

Today, though, I take the plunge.

The lure isn’t desire or appetite. It’s the description propped on the counter at Chiba Sushi Bar:

Now that sounds good for lunch on a bleak and chilly day.

And so it proves to be.

Chiba Sushi Bar is the sibling of Chiba Japanese Restaurant in Hall St, a block over from Puckle.

During my half-hour or so in the place, it does a brisk and pretty much non-stop trade in sushi rolls, the popularity of which is also reflected by some rave reviews at the joint’s entry at Urbanspoon.

Perhaps there’s quite a lot to be said about takeaway sushi rolls purchased from an establishment that has real and meaningful ties to a more formal and proper Japanese restaurant.

Along with the rolls, they serve a small range of other dishes – katsu curry, chicken katsu curry,  tofu and vegetable curry, unadon – on rice, also with miso soup as part of the partaking fee.

My soup is good and hot, with some diced tofu but minus all but the barest glimpses of greenery. Sadly, it is served in a polystyrene cup.

I also get a Japanese soft drink of the peach persuasion. Getting into the fizzy sweetness defies my best efforts, so the staff eventually show me how – by pushing the marble at the top down, where it rattles around as you quaff. Neato and refreshing but at a price ($3.50).

My pork curry and rice, annoyingly, comes served in plastic and looks a rather modest serving.

It’s fantastic and the serve size proves more than adequate!

The root vegetables – potato and carrot only, as far as I can tell – are finely diced and meltingly tender, so much so that they are virtually part of the gravy. The pork pieces are likewise tender.

The gravy itself is blazingly hot and stays so until the very final mouthful. My ragout/curry has a nice but mild chilli undertow.

Calling this a curry in the same sense as we think of India, Thailand or Malaysia is a stretch. But taken on its own terms, it’s a winning lunch.

Well satisfied, I depart knowing I’ll forever remember this as The Day I Learned To Love Japanese Curry.

UPDATE: A friend has just informed that Japan-style curry sauce comes, she thinks, from a tube. Well, it’s pre-made anyway – check out this wikipedia entry.

You know what? I don’t care!

Chiba Sushi Bar on Urbanspoon

Minh Hy Takeaway

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5 Northumberland Rd, Sunshine. Phone: 9352 8711

The not unpleasant demands of routine mean that in recent years the neighbourhood on the other side of Ballarat Rd in Sunshine has become profoundly familiar to us.

The other side that is from that of the shops and market-like activity and good food places such as Classic Curry, Maurya and Pho Hien Saigon.

This familiarity has enriched us with one of our favourites – La Morenita, the expanded eat-in menu of which is to be the subject of a forthcoming Consider The Sauce review.

But sadly, the neighbourhood has delivered very little by way of eating thrills, despite it being well endowed with the sort of the small local shopping strips we routinely treat as rich seams for food mining.

Which means we are thrilled to welcome Minh Hy.

And all kudos to Bennie Weir, and his blooming foodie sophistication and enjoyment, for proudly leading his father right to this fine little joint for a Sunday lunch.

It’s a small place, with only three in-house tables, one of them a two-seat affair, although there are several tables outside for your alfresco alternative.

The inside seating is all taken when we arrive, but thankfully after only a short wait we have a table to call our own.

There’s no menu, but the walls are festooned with the familiar hand-written signs in Vietnamese, the understanding of which we are very much still in prep stage.

Kudos then, too, to the ultra-friendly staff who are happy to take the time to talk us through many of the varied options.

Minh Hy has a buffet-type operation similar to that of Dinh Son Quan at Saigon Market in Footscray.

It is from here that Bennie chooses three serves with rice for $9, with a tasty chicken wing thrown in for good measure.

The lad fancies himself as a fan of all things squid and octopus, but in this case finds the squid involved in a stir fry with vegetables a little too chewy and rubbery for his liking.

The agreeably greasy serve of small-diced pork works fine for him, but the hit is the thin omelette with bitter melon.

His dad orders the seafood soup noodles (mi do bien), also at a cost of $9.

In truth, the lump of thin egg noodles in this is a tad uninspiring, but the three plump prawns are good mixed in with a handful of calamari pieces.

But the star is the broth, which smells and tastes like it’s based on a stock made with prawn heads and the like. Its bisque-like colouring backs up this theory.

We’re having so much fun that we indulge in a serve of one of the two rich-looking deserts on display in bowls.

Che ba ba – $3 for a bowl – has sweet potato, cassava, tapioca and more swimming in coconut cream.

After it’s heated up for us, Bennie loves its all-round squishiness; his dad is not so enamoured.

But the boy is not done yet. Despite just having slurped up desert, he also tucks into a steamed roast pork bun ($2.20) with relish.

All up, our meal – including two cans of soft drink – costs us a supremely cheap $26.

If our meals were of the journeyman variety rather than truly noteworthy, we reckon return visits – and a greater familiarity with the place – will assuredly provide more sublime highs in an establishment that packs in a surprising amount of variety into a very small space.

As we depart, Bennie opines that he fancies the spicy beef noodle soup. His father really desires a big serve of the lusciuous-looking chicken curry with a crusty bread roll on the side.

We are assured that Minh Hy is open from 7.30pm, which opens up all sorts of interesting brekky possibilities.

In the meantime, it’s been a pleasure to chow down at a friendly neighbourhood Viet joint that stands alone and far from the bustling strips of Footscray, Sunshine or St Albans.

Strangeloves

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As Rob and I talk with the Strangeloves guys as they prepare that night’s curry feast, Bennie makes himself scarce – I subsequently find he’s found some friendly locals to thrash at checkers.

577 Mt Alexander Rd, Moonee Ponds. Phone: 9078 3574

We experienced vicariously the trials, tribulations and satisfactions as our buddy Kurt and his business partner Michael set up shop in the hospitality industry with their Moonee Ponds wine bar Stangeloves.

We made a few visits soon after hung they out their shingle.

But as its primary focus is booze, it’s struggled to find traction for son-and-dad food adventures.

Throughout, though, as the pair have worked hard at establishing themselves, they have hosted special events such as tastings, organised a modest food list of tapas-style items and made it clear to their customers that they’re welcome to order in fare from the many surrounding restaurants.

More recently, they’ve introduced $10 curry nights for Sunday evenings, the first two comprising Jamaican goat curry and beef Madras.

So it is that we venture to Strangeloves on a chilly and blustery evening with the splendid company of our next-door neighbour Rob, himself something of a veteran stalwart of western suburbs cheap eats.

Strangeloves occupies a stretch of Mt Alexander Rd just down the hill from Puckle St.

The neighbourhood is cluttered with a  diverse range of eateries, some of which shape as potential Consider The Sauce features, some of which don’t, and some – such as the swanky Greek joint Philhellene – we’d love to try when an occasion comes along that warrants that kind of expenditure.

As well as eateries, there are a number of nightclub-style bars that we presume cater to a much younger and raucous crowd than us.

It is into this environment that Michael and Kurt are trying to carve themselves a prosperous niche, and by all accounts slowly succeeding, though one should never under-estimate the hard slog that starting such a business can entail.

Michael tells me they envisaged their customer base would be an older crowd looking for a quiet, comfy and cosy place to have a drink and socialise.

To that end, they boast a cracking wine list, while Rob – who is partial to imbibing Scotch – gives a big thumbs up to the whiskey list. There’s also a small but very hip range of boutique beers.

Happily, the customer demographic has developed an unforeseen bonus aspect, in that it seems there are also quite a few  20-somethings who find such a place offers plenty.

As Rob and I talk with the Strangeloves guys as they prepare that night’s curry feast, Bennie makes himself scarce – I subsequently find he’s found some friendly locals to thrash at checkers.

Curry night at a wine bar? I keep my hopes and expectations firmly in neutral.

Unnecessarily, for it turns out Michael is a dab and experienced curry cook – and the tucker they turn on for us is top-notch and quite unlike anything any of us has eaten previously.

The white rice is studded with grains of its black sibling.

The spiced potatoes are beaut, with the onions almost becoming part of the gravy.

But the highlight is the pork curry.

This features belly pork and two kinds of bamboo – the crunchy strands of the preserved variety and the spud-like chunks of the smoked kind, which has a somewhat similar texture to the canned bamboo shoots we’re all familiar with from Chinese food.

Health food this is not, but the taste and textures impress us no end. The chilli rating is kinda high, but Bennie and I both moderate the effect by pushing several small red peppers to the side.

And at $10, we conclude this is a primo cheap eat of a thoroughly and delightfully distinctive kind.

All three of us love the pleasant and convivial couple of hours we spend at Strangeloves, and we suggest getting along to one of the Sunday curry nights  is a fine thing to plan on – before the boys move on to something else.

A warning though …

The streets around this stretch of Mt Alexander Rd are a minefield of parking restrictions ready to trap the unwary and the hasty.

So keen were we to chow down, that all three of us failed to notice the “permit holders only” signs on the side street in which we parked, costing us a $72 fine.

We were in good company – there were at least four other vehicles in he same short street similarly pinged!

For the latest curries and details of others special events, you can visit the Strangeloves website or check them out on Facebook.

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Article in The Australian

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Here’s another mainstream press article on food blogging – this time in The  Australian.

Since we started our blog, I figure this is the third such article I have come across.

I always like reading them, but as someone who has a foot firmly in both camps, if that is the right word, I am also always bemused.

In this case, I was particularly taken with this paragraph concerning A.A. Gill, restaurant reviewer for London’s Sunday Times:

A.A. Gill, who was in Australia at the same time as White, is more direct. “I don’t read them; I would never read them,” he asserts. “As if I have the time.” For him, the notion that bloggers are doing it for free out of a “love for food” is a falsehood. “Of course they’re getting paid,” he says. “They go to all these events – that’s a form of payment. They get put up in nice places – that’s a form of payment. What they are effectively doing is funding their hobby and not doing it particularly well.”

And this one, with quotes from Natascha Mirosch, food writer for Brisbane’s Courier-Mail.

For many in traditional media, though, the encroachment of bloggers onto their territory is worrying. “I’d be wary about following their recommendations,” says Mirosch, “because you don’t know how reliable they are or whether they have their own agenda. Often bloggers don’t think they are bound by the same rules and conventions of journalism.”

As if so-called professional food writers don’t have agendas. And as if the food pages of regular newspapers aren’t larded with pieces fuelled by freebies and press releases. Ha!

As with the earlier articles, I simply don’t recognise myself or the bloggers I know.

For sure, these comments are applicable to some bloggers. But a long way short of all or even most.

As a blogger, I would wish for more perceptive and nuanced analysis of food blogging and its bloggers.

As an employee of mainstream journalism, I should probably know better.

For a significantly more strident discussion on The Australian article, check out the post at Fitzroyalty.

Maurya Indian Restaurant & Cafe

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58 Station Place, Sunshine. Phone: 9364 9001

“Special discount/offer for students & taxi drivers.”

It’s difficult to imagine words more profound, eloquent or enticing for the bargain-inclined food hound.

They can be found inscribed on the business card of Maurya Indian Restaurant & Cafe, a humble but – on the basis of two visits – terrific eatery in Sunshine.

With windows that gaze out on the busy comings and goings of buses and, beyond them and their passengers, the Sunshine train station, Maurya equals Wang Wang Dumpling in terms of vehicular scenery.

Such matters not, of course.

I’d been at least subliminally aware of Maurya for years without ever setting foot inside, deterred perhaps by a perception that it is too much of a low-key hangout for, well, taxi drivers to function as public-serving eatery.

Wrong! Although the service is low-key, perseverance is certainly rewarded.

As well, I gained the impression that not all items listed on the menu – there’s only one, stuck to the wall next to the servery and cash register – are always available. So consultations with the staff are a requirement.

The interior is typical Indian el cheapo cafe, with a nice comfy feel that made me right at home. In fact, it reminded me of Indian eats places in India, even if my sole visit to that country was a mighty long time ago.

Prices here are notably on the low side.

A whole tandoori chook clocks in at $12, two kinds of dal are $6.50, their chick pea cousin $7 and meat curries $9.

For my Saturday lunch, I settle on dal tadka, plain rice ($2.50) and a plain roti ($1).

I start though, wanting to get things moving into my mouth as soon as possible, with a samosa ($1).

I have only the most modest of expectations, so am delighted with my house-made pastry parcel. In addition to the expected spuds, peas and spices (including whole cumin and coriander seeds), there are a scattering of sultanas included. I love it.

My dal appears to be based mostly on red and aduki beans, and thus, to me, appears more like makhani than the tadka variety.

But in truth, it’s like neither I’ve ever had in any restaurant, anywhere.

For this is real home-made Indian food – as opposed to Indian restaurant food, with its more refined approach and fewer rough edges.

Unlike other restaurant versions I know, the onion is obvious, the chopped/shredded ginger both a taste and a texture. I detect coriander and cinnamon. The dish has a beaut slow-burn chilli hit that nevertheless never rises much above a click or two over mild.

I love this, too!

For such homely fare, my plain wholemeal roti is the perfect complement.

Including a can of soft drink, my lunch costs me $13.50, which I consider a grand bargain.

A day earlier, on my initial visit, I’d played safe and gone for one of my perennial requests in such places – “cholley bhaturey”.

The Maurya version cost me a superbly low $6 and was very good indeed.

The puris were hot and fluffy, although by the time I got to the second it had gone cold and stiff. The chick peas were fab, as were the attendant condiments.

Blimey – $6!

For the locals, they even provide a tiffin service!

Nasi Lemak House

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115 Grattan St, Carlton. Phone: 9663 1555

Is there a difference between health food and healthy food?

For me, the former conjures up images of alfalfa sprouts and boringly earnest bean casseroles.

The latter, I guess, is anything we eats that’s good for us.

My $10.90 curry laksa is very definitely neither.

The curry gravy is creamy and oily.

There are egg noodles only; none of your rice noodles here.

The only trace of greenery are scarce segments of green onion.

Gad, the chunky chicken pieces are even fried!

But it’s the best laksa I’ve ever devoured.

Well, at least since the last time I had a best ever-laksa.

Nasi Lemak House is a wildly and deservedly popular place a block from Lygon St that sells straight-up Malaysian food widely revered for its authenticity.

Given its location at uni central, it’s a regular student hang-out.

Subsequently, it can get a bit mad at rush hour.

Which is why I figure dead on noon on a public holiday Monday is good time to front up, with a visit to the neat secondhand bookshop around the corner in Swanston St to follow.

I’m right, as things are a little less frantic than usual, though by 12.30 the place is pretty much full anyhow.

At a table across from me, a big group of young chow hounds do like me and photograph their food. Are they bloggers, photography students, merely food nuts? I don’t ask.

I bypass the obvious – there seems to be several dozen variations on the nasi lemak theme, ranging from the straightahead with fried chicken drumsticks to an array of vegetarian options.

As well there are noodles such as char kuay teow; and ban mien, which is two-plate affair of Shanghai noodles alongside a separate dish of fishballs, chicken and vegetables in a chicken soup. Pretty good deal for $9.80! That’s for me next time.

But today it’s the laksa, and not for the first time, either.

It really is mighty, having the pungency and kick for which laksa aficionados crave.

It’s topped with a couple of papadams, which are good either still crunchy or soaked in the soup. In and around them are the fried shallots.

Further down, in addition to big chunks of the bone-free and incredibly tender/chewy chicken, are a couple of fish balls, delightfully soggy tofu, bean sprouts and probably some stuff I forget.

I fail to finish the noodles or the soup on account of being full and not wanting to spoil a fine lunch.

Nasi Lemak House is a Melbourne cheap eats classic, but it pays to time your visit to periods of what passes here for slow.

The Nasi Lemak House website is very good, with the photos giving a real sense of what the food here looks like.

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Broadmeadows Station Kebab House

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5/1100 Pascoe Vale Rd, Broadmeadows. Phone: 9309 6626

A $7 bowl of soup worth driving all the way to Broadmeadows?

Well, actually, soup is not on my mind as I enter Broadmeadows Station Kebab House.

I figure it’s more a matter of dips, salads, falafels and stuffed vine leaves.

Upon entering, though, I see a couple of customers intent of bowls a rich-looking broth.

I discover that it’s lamb shank soup.

“That’s what I want!” says I.

I’d gotten the hot tip about this place while quizzing a fellow dad of one of Bennie’s rugby teammates about the eats scene in Broadmeadows. He reckons there’s many a fine place to explore, though in a more diffuse sense than we are used to around the Footscray and Sunshine.

How lucky we are that so many of our favourite eats destinations are crowded together in such glorious villages/precincts!

The Station Kebab House is positioned in a rather bleak setting, part of a large and ugly station set-up with cars whizzing by on Pascoe Vale Rd the only vista.

Inside, however, it’s a nice and homely Turkish restaurant to the rear, presumably a crowded and happy place to be at night, and the takeaway counter at the front.

What appears at first glance to be a light brothy soup is much more – in fact, it’s an elixir of joy!

For buried in the rich, smooth, heavily stock-infused broth are many pieces of impeccably tender and fat-free shank meat. The photo, above, does this masterpiece little justice.

So rich and filling and delicious is my soup that I barely use the lovely warm Turkish bread provided.

Unsurprisingly, too, I struggle with my small size vegetarian meal ($10), though it boasts highlights that match the soup in every way.

The cacik and eggplant dips are good without being sensational, as is the rice. The salad is the familiar mix of green, red and orange goodies; it’s fine.

But the single stuffed vine leaf and the two falafels? Oh my …

The warmed vine leaf is tender and juicy, and has the sort of lemony tang that only the best of its kind do. I subsequently discover from proprietor Ahmet that lemon is just part of the secret – there’s also mint, capsicum, tomato and, of course, rice and olive oil involved.

The falafel capsules are likewise state-of-the-art.

The outer coatings are crispy, the insides warm and fragrant and wonderful.

It’s a long time since I’ve had falafels so fine.

The welcome here is cheerful and welcoming.

I appreciate, too, the willingness of Ahmet and his family to discuss their fare; such is not always the case.

On the strength of their super dooper lamb shank soup, I’m betting the lentil soup is a killer.

Heck, I may even be tempted to tackle the tripe soup. Ahmet tells me they have regular visits by several “Australian” families bent on getting themselves some of it.

Apart from all the usual meats, pizzas, salads and dips, they also serve up hamsi.

These Black Sea little fishes are, I’m told, like anchovies and must be ordered in advance. The photo of them looks like a spread of tapas-style sardines.

So, yes – the drive to Broadmeadows is a small investment when the rewards are so rich.

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Novel Kitchen

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80 Ferguson St, Williamstown. Phone: 9399 8437

With a 4pm work start, a long ‘n’ lazy newspaper-reading caffeine-fuelled breakfast seems just the ticket.

First stop is a new and groovy-looking joint in Newport Bennie and I had noted the previous weekend.

As I enter, I realise it’s much bigger than it appears from outside. It’s jam-packed and noisy. Intensely so. The communal table in the middle is the domain of a big mum’s group and their offspring.

Erm, no thanks – maybe some other time when it’s not rush hour in Toddlerville.

Next stop is Casa Italica, but I soon depart when I realise they aren’t set up for the kind of brekky of which I am desirous.

So it is that by sheer randomness I find myself just a few doors along at Novel Kitchen.

And what a happy accident it turns out to be.

It’s a cosy but not exactly personality-packed cafe that specialises in organic goodies, more specifically take-home meals. The range of salads – many of them featuring pulses and grains – for $8 seem like a pretty solid deal.

But I have more immediate concerns on my mind.

From the breakfast menu I choose the $12 free range omelette with tomato, spinach and fetta.

It’s a thing of brilliance, with the filling ingredients abundant and in equal portions.

The omelette sits atop a slice of toast, the pair of them matching each other almost precisely in dimensions. Good job!

The fetta superbly adds some bite and tang, as does the tomato relish that sits with some nice rocket leaves on the side.

It’s a such a fine and harmonious package that the bacon I ordered as an extra seems out of place and a needless expense.

Two excellent coffees and a quick whip through one of the Melbourne rags on hand and I’m pretty much done.

Novel Kitchen impresses as a bit of a Willy secret and a tidy alternative to the more frantic and well-known options in the vicinity, regardless of one’s ardour for organic ingredients.

Maybe next time I’ll go for one of the daily soups!

Novel Kitchen on Urbanspoon

Peanut butter milkshake

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Snowballs Ice-Cream And Lollies,

320 Melbourne Rd, Newport. Phone: 9391 0711

After our visit to Snowballs a while back, and the subsequent blog post, one visitor strongly suggested we check out the peanut butter milkshake.

That seed planted in the dark recesses of Bennie’s noggin bloomed to the extent of regular reminders to his father that stopped a straw’s width short of nagging.

Still, when the time comes I am happy enough to help slake his milkshake lust.

The verdict?

“It’s the best milkshake I’ve ever had!” the boy enthuses – even if he does end up taking a goodly proportion of it home for later completion.

The peanut butter milkshake costs $5.

First in goes ice-cream specifically made, I am told, for milkshakes.

Then follow chocolate milkshake flavouring, smooth peanut butter and milk.

The result is nowhere as peanutty as either of us is expecting, but it is a very rich and heavy concoction.

I had nightmarish images of satay-flavoured gloop swirling around my brain.

I like the mild peanut/choc flavour well enough, but a couple of sips suffice.

Bennie, though, keeps on sucking till he is sated. Then completes the job soon after arriving home.

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Wang Wang Dumpling

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3/51 Waterfield St, Coburg. Phone: 9354 0294

Who needs leafy, scenic vistas or coastal views when you can gaze out on a Coburg parking lot?

Such an outlook may have a whiff of reverse snobbery about it, but nevertheless it reflects the kind of food we like to eat, the places we like to eat it in and the prices we like to pay.

Wang Wang Dumpling was noted down for do-soon exploration on a recent lazy afternoon spent exploring Brunswick Market and other interesting bits of Sydney Rd.

So it’s a pleasure to stroll in for our regular Saturday lunch outing.

The interior is actually rather swish considering the vehicular scenery.

We are happy to adhere to the obliging staff’s recommendations after telling them of our haste – not because we’re in hurry, but because we’re hungry.

We order dumpling in hot and sour soup ($9) and Shanghai fried noodle ($9.50).

The soup ‘n’ noodles combo is a doozy – and at the most tender of pinches could suffice as lunch for both of us.

Swimming in the viscous soup are 10 dumplings.

The soup is delicious – of mild spiciness, it’s chock-full of egg, tofu strands, mushrooms, chilli, peas and perhaps more.

The pork dumplings are sublime. They have a distinctive flavour, the nature of which I endeavour to discover as I pay, with no great success. Best I can say is pepper is involved.

The noodles are plainer, and thus complement perfectly the rich and spicy soup/dumplings.

Joining the noodles are fresh mushrooms, bok choy and tender beef pieces, the lot tossed in a soy and oil sauce.

The hand-made noodles themselves are the highlight.

Al dente, they are of irregular girth and very yummy.

This is a meal of many joyful slurps.

We are eager to return to explore the menu further.

Bennie likes the look/sound of the Shanghai duck seasoned with soy sauce. Kenny will happy to stick a pin in the menu, so varied and enticing are the myriad noodle and dumpling offerings.

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Blarney Stone Irish Pub

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35 Anderson St, Yarraville. Phone: 9687 2034

We’ve had a heap of meals at our local pub over the years.

None of them have been great, some of them have been good, some of them have been just OK, some of them we’ve said rude things about.

But where we were once rather dismissive of the pub fare on offer, we are now converts – of a sort.

The catalyst for this is a chilly mid-week night.

We feel like a break from the arduous work/school/eat/sleep routine.

We don’t feel like cooking. We do feel like a quick, cheap feed.

But nor do we feel like hopping in the car for a jaunt to Footscray.

So off we go to peruse our back-yard options.

After examining the bar menu at the pub, and going “Nah, not this time”, we stroll around the corner to Ballarat St.

We check out no less than five menus, and are dismayed to find them all beyond our mood or means.

We’ve become accustomed to the super-cheapness of Lebanese pizzas, so paying $16 or more for an Italian version doesn’t appeal.

Nor do we feel up to paying $24 for pasta.

And so on … and that’s just half the Ballarat St options, but I doubt the rest offer much variation.

Truth is, while Yarraville has myriad good food possibilities, it is sorely lacking the sort of choices that allow us to grab a quick and healthy bite for under $10 each – so easily had in Footscray.

Even at Nando’s or Burger Edge, the bill can exceed budgets, especially when a full-on meal is sought.

And the fish and chip shop lacks seating facilities.

So back to the pub we go.

It still has a metal sign that reads Railway Hotel under the Blarney Stone painted signage.

And therein lies its charm.

While it got swept up in the bloody silly Irish-themed pub syndrome that swept across Melbourne several years ago, nothing has changed.

Sure there’s a bit of Irish artwork around the place, and maybe a few more backpackers and travellers come and go, but basically it remains a well-worn home of a steady and loyal and mostly blue-collar crowd.

No pokies, but much beer and punting

As a holdout amid the solid yuppieness that surrounds it, the Blarney Stone/Railway Hotel is to be treasured.

And as such, applying any of our usual foodie standards – be they concerned with flavour, healthiness or pricing – seems both superfluous and ridiculous.

Even here, though, the bistro is a but rich for us, so the bar menu it is.

Bennie goes for the $12 burger – not for the first time.

This time around, it’s a tidy package that holds together well. It’s more in the style of an Aussie burger than its American counterpart, but he makes quick work of the lot, so to speak. All the chips follow likewise.

I order the chicken parma with chips and salad at a cost of $13.

This is less successful.

Disappointingly, the salad bits are little more the inconsequential embellishment.

The chicken is moist, but more like your typical chicken breast than a flattened piece of chook, parma-style. The very thin slice of ham add a surprising level of flavour and goes well with the cheese and bol sauce.

It’s an unusual option for me to pursue, so obviously I’m no expert. But I suspect it’d fall short of raising robust enthusiasm from hardened parma fans.

Still, it suffices. And the chips are fine.

Presumably, this could be ordered for $10 on a Thursday, which is Parma Night.

Tuesdays are anointed Locals Night and Wednesdays Pasta Night.

Our “local” will never be cherished among our favourites, but sometimes it’s just right.

And for dad at least, it is a handy stopover for a post-work or pre-footy beer.

Take it as it is or not at all.

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