Tag Archives: cheap eats

Taco Truck

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Phone: 9023 0888

Taco Truck, its snaggy cousin, Le Sausage, and other such recent phenomena may have mobility on their side, but such things have been around forever, of course – Mr Whippy had wheels, too, y’know!

Besides them, there are the ubiquitous kebab trucks, pie carts of yore, icecream/soft drink vans wherever and whenever there is a public gathering, the famous and revered Footscray Station doughnut operation and many more.

Still, having missed the Taco Truck’s visit to Newport in mid-November, and knowing its visits to anywhere in our vicinity are somewhat rare, I am keen to grab the opportunity in Essendon, corner of Primrose and Albion streets to be precise.

I pull up and park a few minutes after the advertised open time of noon to find the Taco Truck crew still doing their prep chores.

Already a handful of people have gathered for their taco hit.

In the time I am having my lunch and taking photos, a lot of people have come, eaten and gone.

Whatever its flaws – there’s a bit of griping about the enterprise’s unreliability, waiting times, running out early and so on at its Facebook page – its apparent the social media/eating connection is a winner. 

The Taco Truck sells three kinds of taco – chicken, potato and fish – for $6 a pop.

I do as I’m sure just about all their customers do and order the combo of two tacos and corn chips for $12. A bottle of mandarin Jarritos pushes the price of my lunch out to $16.

This is a pleasingly slick and smooth operation – or at least it is today – and my meal is ready within just a few minutes.

The corn chips are quite distinctive. They seem a little bit cakier than your usual corn chips, but are no less crunchy. Very lightly salted, they are very extremely yummy. There’s simply not enough of them.

My potato taco, with its hard shell and topped with sour cream, a semi-bitter salsa verde and crisp chopped cabbage, looks like it’ll be a nightmare to eat.

It is not.

In fact, it holds together really, really well. The shell remains crunchy throughout yet does not shatter in the time-honoured taco fashion.

The potato filling is beaut and the whole thing is ace.

The fish taco comes in a soft shell. The same bits and pieces accompany, along with some creamy mayo.

This is simply incredible!

The fish – rockling I am told – is firm, juicy and flavoursome. The batter is not crisp, yet is just right, too, holding to the fish until the last delicious mouthful.

This could be the best taco I’ve ever eaten.

But I’m still hungry.

Look, I know a feed of top-class fish and chips will cost about the same these days, but in that case you’ll almost always get a ton of chips to fill you up – as opposed to the paltry handful of corn chips I receive from the Taco Truck.

And given that customers have to make do without tables and chairs, it’s a little alarming knowing that with a decent head of appetite up I could eat TWO of the combo deals – and that would push the price of a meal out to $24 and somewhat beyond the limits of cheap eats, or at least those of fast food.

Next time, we’ll make sure we take a bottle of water, to avoid the soft-drink trap, and order the combo with an extra taco for $6.

That’d be $18 for a light meal.

Still, there’s no doubting the quality of the tacos this mob is turning out.

Taco Truck on Urbanspoon

It’s disgusting

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Dear Highpoint,

We don’t have much reason to visit your shopping centre, especially now that Borders is no more.

However, today I was up there to get a Medicare rebate, and to save myself another stop on the way home I had lunch in the food court.

Not bad, actually. Well, passable anyway. Noodles, beef curry, five-spice calamari for under $10.

Like the many other hundreds of hungry shoppers, I ate using plastic, disposable cutlery from a plastic, disposable plate.

The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became.

Depressed thinking about the no-doubt thousands of meals served at your two food courts every day. Seven days a week. Year after year after year.

I have no objection to your establishment being a high altar of consumerism. I can and do go there myself.

But the disposable plastic ware that comes with your food delivery is a waste of epic proportions.

Frankly, it’s disgusting.

And even if it is all legal and proper, truth is it is morally wrong.

Is there not a better way?

Can your management, parent company, whoever not think of the bigger picture and be a better community citizen?

Whatever pain, financial or otherwise, that is endured while fixing this ridiculous situation will – in the end – more than repay itself in terms of goodwill and the ability to say: “It was hard – but we did the right thing.”

Cheers, Kenny Weir, Consider The Sauce

Al-alamy

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Al-alamy, 51 Waterfield St, Coburg. Phone: 9355 8866

Since making  a mental note of this intriguing, fantastic joint while checking out the adjoining Wang Wang Dumpling, a fair bit of time has elapsed, during which we’ve ascertained that Al-Alamy is something of a magic foodie hotspot.

And not just for those, bloggers and more, who love to blather on about food in the cyber world, either.

In the hour or so I am in-house for a Monday lunch, an endless stream of savvy regulars comes and goes – young mums with tots, workers in suits and shorts, grandparents with tots, larger family groups, singles such as my self, content to hunker down with their chosen lunches and a newspaper/magazine/book.

There are a number of reasons for the intense popularity of Al-Alamy.

The prices, for starters.

A plain zaatar pizza costs $1.50, dressed with onion and tomato $2.50.

The rest of the usual lineup of pies and pizzas range from $2.50 up to $4.

For about the same price, you can have one of the saj pizzas, in which saj bread is stuffed with fillings and then draped over a spherical heating plate. Different!

The dips platters cost $7.

Outside of the pay-if-you-want Lentil As Anything outlets, could be this is the cheapest of cheap eats in Melbourne.

But that, of course, would mean nowt if the food wasn’t as spectacular.

It is, well based on my magnificent foul meddammes ($7) anyway!

This perfect little spread is cheap, healthy and likely to set a template in our house for lazy don’t-feel-like-cooking summer days – vinegary pickles, olives, pita bread, dips/foul, what could be better?

The plate of pickled cucumbers slices and pink turnip, beautifully fresh tomato chunks and wrinkled, chewy olives is the perfect foil for its lunch companions.

It might be thought all the zing and tang would come from them, with the beans playing straight man, but that’s not the case. Yes, the beans (and a few chick peas) have some of the pasty blandness I expect and desire, but there’s an undertow of lemon in there, too.

What an incredible feed!

A few tables over, I see a couple of blokes tucking into a spread that has the same bits and pieces as mine, but with awarma (scrambled eggs with minced meat, $8.50) instead – and that looks so fine, as well.

My cafe latte is hot, strong, sensational and another bargain at $2.50.

Al-Alamy is one of the enlightened, sensible places that will feed you and sell you stuff to feed you and yours at home. Think Mediterranean Wholesalers, La Morenita or Little Saigon Market.

So obvious on one level, such genius on another – and a potent alternative to the supermarket for shopping, restaurant for eating out syndrome.

It’s been open for about five years, but feels a lot more homely and lived in than that – in a positive way!

I only wish it was closer to home – the traffic hereabouts is a mess just about all the time, and on my way across town I made the killer mistake of joining Sydney Rd WAY too early in the piece.

On the way home I do better by a mixture of Bell St, Moreland Rd and Pasco Vale Rd.

Before departing Al-Alamy, I buy some eggplant and beetroot dips to go, pita bread and half a dozen pieces of a wonderful sweetie that is part marshmellow, part nougat, each piece studded with a piece of Turkish delight.

I truly love this place – how can I not when it’s an establishment that has a head-scarfed female staff member placing my lunch on my table with a cheerful, “There you go, mate!”

Al Alamy on Urbanspoon

Philippine Fiesta

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Melbourne Showgrounds Grand Pavilion

Having missed the previous year’s Philippine Fiesta through illness, and having only heard about this year’s bash the previous night, and having somewhat lethargically got myself out of the house and into the rain, it’s a pleasure to be striding towards the showground’s Grand Pavilion, where – happily – the entire proceedings are taking place.

My pace picks up as I hear the music and inhale the tantalising aromas caressing my nostrils.

Inside, the entire pavilion is hazy with smoke from barbecues.

Sweetness!

Who needs dry ice?

The fiesta has been going a good few hours already, will continue quite late into the night and on into the following day, but there is a good size crowd on hand already.

There’s all the commercial stallholders you would expect – travel, insurance, immigration services, real estate and more.

But your blogger, of course, heads straight to the food section.

It’s not as big as I expect, but more than big enough, with all the stalls – maybe about 10 in all – all doing a roaring trade.

Except the Spanish paella folk, who seem to be suffering from attention deficit disorder. Such a shame, as their goodies look the goods.

As if almost in an unintended rebuff to them, I start my afternoon’s eating with a serve of paella and chargrilled chicken from one of the Filipino stalls for $10.

The rice is good, the chicken better – chargrilled to a crispy outer and juicy as can be, although pretty much unseasoned.

All the tables adjacent the food area are packed, so I make do with some plastic storage containers out the back of the coffee caravan set-up. Despite its deliciousness, I leave much of the chook uneaten in the knowledge I’m up for some serious grazing.

By far the most popular food item are the barbecue skewers – there are at least four places selling them.

I grab a pork number for $4 and feel a bit shattered.

It looks insanely delicious, but it’s SO fatty. In this sort of context, such a thing would not ordinarily disturb me. But in this case, the fattiness is as much a textural thing as it is flavour or health related. That I don’t like pork belly – at all – may give you some idea of my dismay.

I see people all around me happily consuming skewers – pork, chicken and beef – that appear to be meatiness defined in a way mine is not.

Oh well!

It’s time for time out from food, it’s time to take in some of the more cultural aspects of the fiesta.

At the entertainment stage, I quickly surmise that it’s mandatory for female Filipino pop singers to wear dangerously elongated high heels.

Gwen Zamora (pictured above) sings two songs, the first pleasingly close to the sunshine pop so close to my heart.

However, as the entrants in the Miss Philippine Fiesta of Victoria and Charity Quests and the Mrs Philippine Fiesta of Victoria and Charity Quests strut their stuff, I quickly learn that vertigo high heels are pretty much the all-round go.

Except, maybe, for the wrestlers, none of whom appear to be Filipino, be they male or female.

High heels may be part of their private lives, but they put on a good show anyway.

Even a sport fan and pop culture creature such as myself normally finds “wrestling” of only the most passing interest.

But it’s surprising how visceral, loud and – yes – violent it seems when you’re standing a few feet away.

More food!

I order a serve of callos.

It’s only when the deal is done that I fully realise the contents of what I am about to consume.

Thus this, of all places, becomes the first time EVER I have tried tripe.

I don’t like the tripe; I don’t really dislike it, either.

But a lifetime of wariness is a big hurdle.

I push it all to one side and enjoy the remaining stew of  pork, chorizo, greens beans, peas and chick peas.

I have room and money for one last hurrah – churros!

These are much less chewy and of much less substance than I am familiar with.

So light, so very evil and so very delicious with the chocolate dipping sauce – and truly perfect with a brew from the Three Beans Coffee folk.

It’s my best coffee for the week by a mile – bravo!

I have a ball at the Philippine Fiesta.

But I am by now accepting of the fact there is something of a disconnect between me, my tastes and Filipino food. There are numerous dark, lusty and mysterious dishes at the food booths that I don’t even consider.

I suspect that at a similar event hosted by the Indian community, just for instance, I would not feel a similar distance.

But that’s cool, too!

Flemington Kebab House

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301 Racecourse Rd, Flemington. Phone: 9376 2767

This Flemington institution didn’t get a write-up in the whiz-bang new book on Melbourne kebab shops, but it certainly would’ve been a worthy inclusion.

It’s never been at the top-tier of our choices for such food, as there are options closer to home.

As well,  the last time Bennie stuck our noses in the door the prices had crept up, and the previous dad-only visit had left me feeling a little shortchanged in terms of quantity.

So it is with much interest and a little wariness that I enter for a midweek dinner.

The place has had some simple renovations done. It’s homely. Tiles, photos of Turkey – the pics tug at my heart. From what I’ve gathered over the years, Turkey is right at that the top of the list of countries worth visiting for foodie reasons as well as friendly people and drop-dead gorgeous scenery.

As my dinner ritual unfolds, I relax in the knowledge that the previous disappointment can be written of as little more than a blip.

This kebab joint is at the top of its game and my meal is excellent.

A kebab wrap will cost you $9.50 here.

Meal platters range from non-meat for $13 up to mixed grill for $21.

My spread of lamb from the spit, two salads, two dips, rice and bread clocks in at $15.50.

There’s only one size, which is a bit of a blow – my plate could feed dad AND son.

The meat is tender, perhaps not crusty and crunchy enough, but light on the fattiness.

The chilli dip is of a pleasant spiciness, fine and fresh and tangy, and goes fantastic dab by dab with the meat.

The babaghanous lacks the smokiness that tends to come with coarser versions, but its smoothness is full of lemony, garlicky tang.

The rice is good, the salad of lettuce, cabbage, carrot and so on nice and crisp.

The other salad – of red capsicum, leaves, olives and even a couple of cubes of fetta cheese – seems a little excess to requirements.

I envy Flemington residents having this place ready as a groovy go-to option to the many Asian eateries surrounding it.

Flemington Kebab House on Urbanspoon

Cafe Noodle House

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Level 1, Building M, Victoria University Footscray Park Campus. Phone: 9919 4339

It’s a little odd to be navigating the corridors and stairways of Victoria University – a mere day after doing much the same at Melbourne University while tracking down a very cool book on Melbourne’s kebab shops.

Your blogger bypassed tertiary education entirely, heading straight from high school to newspapering, and have never for an instant regretted doing so.

Weirdly enough, I did spend a lot of time on the campus of my hometown university while still at school. The reason was simple – that’s where a better class of rock ‘n’ roll, and even blues and folk music, was to be found and heard.

Much, much more recently, Bennie’s swimming lessons have seen Victoria University become part of the family routine, such regular visits alerting us to the existence of Cafe Noodle House.

It’s one of several food outlets scattered around the campus, and like some of its competitors it takes something of a jack-of-all-trades approach.

So while it’s ostensibly an Asian affair, it stocks and sells sandwiches, muffins, wraps and the like.

The bain marie offerings hold little appeal, although the beef curry I observe being served to a fellow customer looks worth a try.

I focus my eyes and appetite on the photographs of the made-to-order soup, noodle and rice dishes displayed behind the servery.

They all seem to be a buck or so below the prices demanded out in the real world, and cover all the usual bases – mee goreng, hokkien mee noddles, Hainan chicken rice and so on.

There are a few surprises, though, and it’s one of them that becomes my lunch.

Hue spicy beef noodle soup ($8.50), sadly, comes in a disposable plastic bowl.

It’s good without being sensational – pretty much par for the course when compared to other versions I have had of this dish in other places.

It’s got a nice chilly kick.

The very plentiful slices of fat-on beef are both chewy and tender.

Texture is added to the plump, white round noodles by lots of lettuce, which gets that cool wilted thing going as my meal progresses, and a handful of bean sprouts likewise stewing away under the noodles.

Maybe you’d not want go out of your way to eat here, but if in the vicinity it’s worth a go.

40 Melbourne kebab shops in 500 pages? Book of the year!

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Derham Groves is a man after my own heart – he’s passionate about things.

Quite a few things, actually.

Let’s see – architecture, on which he lectures/teaches at the University of Melbourne; rabid Geelong Football Club fan; really big on crime literature, with a special and obsessive penchant for Sherlock Holmes. And that’s just for starters.

But I’ve wandered on to the surprisingly expansive and unfamiliar surrounds of the university campus to talk with him about his latest “baby” – a 500-page book concerned solely with an in-depth survey of 40 Melbourne kebab joints.

After a few wrongs turns and helpful guidance along the way, I meet Derham outside University House, in to which we scuttle for a couple of outstanding coffees.

As we sup, I hear the fascinating story of how Kebab Shops In Melbourne – An Architectural Survey came about.

In 2010, Derham visited Iran for three weeks, courtesy of a travel grant from the Iran Heritage Foundation, to look at Iranian brickwork.

As he moved around the country, he needed to eat – as you do – so found himself in many kebab establishments.

Quite apart from the no-doubt delicious food of which he partook in such places, he often found himself befriended, offered food to share and otherwise engaged by the locals.

All this got him thinking … about kebab shops, their role in the community.

And it got him thinking, too, about their equivalents back in Melbourne.

Back home, he initiated a project in which the 90 students in his Popular Architecture and Design course – in teams of two – dispersed across the city, with each team given the task of profiling a kebab shop.

The result is Kebab Shops In Melbourne – An Architectural Survey.

It’s a beaut read, by turns entertaining, revealing and – for the likes of your blogger – absolutely riveting.

Because of the quick turnaround time, the students’ work is unedited and as presented.

Not only do their individual voices comes through loud and clear, but so, too, do those of the small business folk and families who run the kebab places – which in Melbourne, as in Iran, are a ubiquitous yet rarely studied or even appreciated beyond the sometimes urgent needs of a quick, cheap and delicious feed.

This came about because the students were given marching orders that not only covered topics to be expected of an architectural project – fittings, furniture, signage and so on – but also interviews with the operators.

As a celebration of the every day, the book closely mirrors the evolving ethos of Consider The Sauce.

So, too, does the journey undertaken by the students.

Derham tells me that 70 per cent of the students on the course are Chinese. How wonderful and enriching, then, that they ventured out of whatever CBD enclaves, peer groups and noodle shops they ordinarily frequent to meet another vital part of Melbourne’s make-up.

Of course, unlike in Iran, Melbourne’s kebab shops are dominated by families of Turkish and Greek heritage, but that didn’t stop Derham’s students from taking to their tasks with relish – and enjoying some magnificent food along the way.

Included among the 40 kebab shops is long-time Consider The Sauce favourite Footscray Best Kebab House.

Crazy Kebabs in Mount Alexander Rd gets a guernsey, too, but other than that the books finds Brunswick, Sydney Rd, Melbourne’s CBD and Fitzroy heavily represented.

Derham’s students may not have become life-long kebab fans and may duly recall their study sojourn in Melbourne as merely a step on their life journeys, but he tells me that nevertheless when each of them was presented with a copy of the book, it was notable that many of them carried them clasped to their chests, front cover out and clearly visible.

Heck, I’d be a bit proud of such an effort, too!

Kebab Shops In Melbourne – An Architectural Survey is published by the Custom Book Centre of Melbourne University and is available here or from the university’s book shop.

As an academic exercise, it could be argued that the work of Kebab Shops In Melbourne – An Architectural Survey has already been done.

Derham harbours a suspicion, however, that it could go “feral” and become a cult classic.

Me?

I think it should be a bestseller.

A wrap on Derham’s Iran trip – including pics of particularly succulent looking kebabs – can be found here.

Thanks to Derham and his students for letting me republish here a couple of the kebab shop surveys.

 

Kasim’s Indian Cafe, Sirens

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Kasim’s Indian Cafe, 44 Mason St, Newport. Phone, 9399 483

Sirens,  Beach Pavilion Esplanade, Williamstown. Phone: 9397 7811

It takes some cajoling to get Bennie off the sofa and away from the TV and PlayStation this Friday night.

In the end, we experience a role reversal – with Bennie energised by the magic combination of beach + boy and his dad wanting to head for home.

To get things rolling, though, I make a concession – instead of heading for the wilds of Deer Park or Taylors Lakes, we stick closer to home, intent on checking out a typical suburban Indian eatery, the windows of which we’ve peered through a number of times but never previously entered.

We’re interested in exploring the theory that by mostly limiting ourselves to the cheaper end of the Indian spectrum – at, say, Consider The Sauce favourites such as Classic Curry in Sunshine – we are depriving ourselves of an occasional repast that is richer, sexier and more celebratory.

So it is with metaphorically loosened wallets that we hit the Willy road.

Our straightahead Indian meal is indeed more expensive than our usual – but not by a lot.

We’re hungry and waste no time in ordering lamb bhuna gosht ($13), aloo gobi ($11.50), plain nan ($2.90) and rice ($4), and “kuchumber salad spicy” ($4).

We suspect Kasim’s, with its plain but nice enough dining room, does most of its trade in takeaway. We’re the only customers, but as we are paying and leaving a young couple saunters in followed by a Muslim family comprising mum, dad, two daughters with iPads and son with PSP/DS.

We hope they have a better time of it than we do.

Our meal is edible.

We eat it.

But – oh dear – it’s truly spectacular in its mediocrity.

The salad – a mix of finely diced tomato, lettuce, cucumber and carrot – is not in the least bit spicy.

The aloo gobi seems like leftovers.

The bhuna gosht meat is tender, has textural variety courtesy of green capsicum and onion, and is the best thing going in our meal.

The nan is very average for the price.

The final bill of just a touch over $40 is fine for two mains, three side dishes and two cans of soft drink, but our wallet-loosening experiment is a failure.

Did we order the wrong dishes? Any Kasim’s regulars out there?

It’s still early in the night and Bennie is happy enough to humour his father’s interest in sweeties and coffee/hot chocolate.

The esplanade/beach precinct of Williamstown used to play a major role in our outings, one that has faded.

Mind you, we’ve never taken the plunge by getting on the fang at Siren’s, daunted by the high prices and the fear its fare will tainted by the same fodder indifference that infects nearby Nelson Parade.

It’s all very well to say that as food bloggers we should keep open minds and chance our arms on occasion, but as full-fare payers we are tugged, too, in the other direction, towards caution and conservatism.

Tonight, the place is close to packed and very busy. But still, we fear that has more to do with the superb beachside location than anything coming out of the kitchen.

What we have done many, many pleasant times is hit Sirens for coffee and Greek-style biscotti – and that’s just what we do tonight.

It turns out to be a thrilling half-hour or so.

The proximity of beach and sand brings Bennie alive.

There’s a classic Willy sunset on hand, thunder clouds and lightning in the other direction, and a rainbow between them.

The floor manager is bemused by our insistence on doing coffee imbibing out on the deck because everything is sopping wet.

That’s cool, mate, we’ll stand.

The choc-dipped bikkie is less impressive than we recall from previous visits; the shortbread number much better; our hot drinks are very good.

As dad calls stumps on the outing, Bennie shouts from water’s edge: “I want to stay here!”

Sirens By the Sea on Urbanspoon

bowlz @ the deck revisited

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Yarraville-Footscray Bowling Club, 339A Francis St, Yarraville. Phone: 9314 4530 ‎

The previous dad-only visit to the Yarraville-Footscray Bowling Club for a mid-week lunch in more or less deserted premises had been an enjoyable affair.

But despite comments to the contrary, truth is it would be hard-pressed to win return visits.

That’s all changed with the coincidence that the club shares a carpark with the McIvor Reserve venue for Bennie’s cricket practice, also just off Francis St.

After a hard day of commuting, school ‘n’ work AND cricket practice, what could be better for a couple of blokes than a simple, leisurely amble from sports field to bowls clubhouse?

Not much, as it turns out.

Tonight the club seems a little more lived-in, with tables occupied here and there and more customers arriving as we wait for our meals then eat them.

Much of the bistro food seems pitched, priced and presented somewhere between our local pub and its near-neighbour, Cafe Fidama.

In the case of our two main meals, that is to prove an ideal combination of wallet damage that’s bearable and food that is a notch above your average budget pub fodder.

But a keen appetite is upon us so we splurge on a bowl of almost-instant-gratification chips ($6).

They’re good, fresh, hot, unsoggy, well-salted and completely unnecessary – but what the hey!

Bennie’s steak sandwich is a sight to behold – a meal for a man, or a growing 10-year-old who loves a challenge.

Stuffed into a long ciabatta-style row are steak, egg, tomato, bacon, caramelised onions and some greenery.

He loves it, leaving just there merest stub of bread.

He tells me to describe it as “AWSM”.

The accompanying spud wedges may be par for the coarse (sic), but they’re ridiculous and horribly seasoned with some dodgy spice mix. Wedges should be banned, their use-by date being some time last century.

Maybe it’s possible to request the fine chips instead of wedges on the dishes that include them.

Happily, the sandwich is so big it’s all that’s required and keenly priced ($17.90), too.

My roast chicken with vegetables and gravy ($16.90) hits the mark just fine as well.

The half-chook is tasty, although personal preference would’ve lent it a slightly more browned appearance and texture. It’s tender, too, with the inevitable dryness in the breast meat more than taken care of by the rich, dark gravy.

The roast spuds are good, the carrots and parsnips a little tough at the core, and the pumpkin gag material – for me anyway!

Our meal is beaut, the convenience of the club’s post-cricket practice location matched by casual pub-style tucker a nicely judged step up in refinement from bar menu fare and well worth the asking price.

Yoyo’s Milkbar

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48 Monash St, Sunshine. Phone: 9311 4382

Nothing, or very little, is quite as it seem at Yoyo’s Milkbar.

For starters, based on the window signage and that on the back of the owner’s wheels parked out front, I am expecting the joint to be called Kiwi Stop.

It’s not so.

I’m also expecting, to some extent at least and based on the same signage which includes the term “mutton bird sold here”, the owner to be a Kiwi, perhaps of Maori heritage, and like myself a long-time resident of Australia.

One look at the friendly demeanour of Mr Yoyo and my mind whispers “Mediterranean”.

And so it turns out to be.

It’s been until now a Saturday morning of pleasurable routine – early cricket game in Port Melbourne, stocking up the house with goodies from Sunshine Fresh Food Market.

A stop at Ambe Spices for red beans and frozen momo from Fusion Cafe & Mo:Mo Bar.

We’ve driven past Yoyo’s countless times coming to and fro from Sunshine, but this is the first time I’ve crossed the threshold.

I’m glad I do so, as I receive the same sort of smiling welcome I received during a similarly impromptu visit, to Pace Biscuits and Leo Pace.

Greek-born Peter – Mr Yoyo – is utterly and smilingly unfazed when I state my intention to ask a bunch pesky questions and take photographs.

“Pull up a seat,” he says in a most welcoming fashion.

Peter is a veteran confectionery man who has been working from these premises for five years, his previous Sunshine joint these days operating as his packing and distribution centre for sweets and treats bound for other retailers.

He’s not only not a Kiwi, but the Godzone part of this particular shop is just part of what he’s got going on, a facet of the business he introduced about five years ago in order to keep a wide level diversity going.

As he says: “Milkbars are dying out!”

It started when he visited Queensland to see his sister, who perhaps not so coincidentally has a Kiwi husband. He bought some boxes of Pinky bars home, they went good and he’s been at it ever since.

It’s not at all unusual to see New Zealand confectionery lines around Melbourne, at the likes of Snowballs, for example.

Nevertheless, I spy some familiar shapes and names from childhood that I can’t recall seeing before in my long-adopted home city and others now easily and widely had …

Into the latter category fall Whitaker’s Peanut Slabs, which in my long ago childhood were sold on milkbar counters unwrapped but still taste pretty good today – even if they seem a whole lot smaller.

“Everything’s smaller,” quips Peter.

I lay eyes on other familiar favourites – pineapple lumps, spearmint leaves, scooping a bag of the latter to take home.

Sour feijoas? Now that’s something new to me. I scoop up a bag of them, too, excited about discovering if they really do taste of the heady perfumed flavour of real feijoas.

Being raised in the deep south of the South Island many centuries ago – with all the social, cultural and foodie conservatism that went with it –  all I’d ever heard about muttonbirds was that they were “too oily, too greasy, too salty”, part of the country’s heritage that I never even came close to sampling.

Likewise, the only method I ever heard of for cooking them was boiling.

However, Peter tells me the mostly New Zealand customers who buy muttonbirds from him – two for $25 – not only boil them, but use them also for hangi purposes and even make pies with the birds.

This is some crazy stuff – a Greek-born sweets man filling me in on some of the more arcane details of my own Kiwi food heritage!

At home, it’s a pleasure to discover that while my feijoa lollies are tart rather than outright sour they do indeed taste of feijoas!

Peter and daughter Angelique.

GRAM Magazine – a Good Thing

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It was never the intention that Consider The Sauce should generate income – well, not directly anyway.

But certainly it was and is part of a broader strategy to re-invent myself after a long and wearing-and-tearing tenure in the hurly burly of metropolitan newspapers.

Happily, there have been numerous and unexpected benefits.

The pleasure and smiles that greet us when returning to little migrant eateries about whom we have written.

The quiet satisfaction of giving one in the eye for those who continue bang on about “illegals” and so on.

The profound and enhancing affect our blog has had on relationship between father and son.

Through it all, I have been keeping a keen eye out for opportunities for myself and Consider The Sauce beyond the blog being merely a glorified business card.

As I became more and more familiar with the food blogging scene, it became clear that certain things just weren’t going to work for us.

Our current blogging platform precludes the use of adverts and so on, but from what I’ve been able to learn the income they generate – for food bloggers anyway – is so miniscule that they’re barely worth the bother.

Add to that the certain fact that they compromise blogs so drastically and awfully on a visual and aesthetic level, and it’s a firm case of No Thanks!

Likewise for giveaways and paid posts, in which bloggers are paid for writing posts about products or services.

I have been approached by a handful of PR companies spruiking products or inviting me to product launches and the like. One of the invites actually appealed, but I couldn’t fit it into my dance card.

As for the rest, it’s impossible not to dismiss as spam epistles that start with immortal words such as: “We are contacting you because we know you are an influential blogger …”

Yes, well, ahem, excuse me while I ROTFLMAO.

I have no moral objection to these and many other related practices.

I’m a life-long career newspaperman with long involvement in the entertainment industry under my belt, so am well acquainted with doing deals and the art of compromise.

It’s just in the case of blogs, food blogging, food bloggers and Melbourne food bloggers in particular, bloggers are being had.

Read about it at the Deep Dish Dreams posts Food Bloggers as Marketing Puppets Part 1. Evolution and Food Bloggers as Marketing Puppets Part 2. Marketing Tricks and Psychology.

I may well have a price, but if so it is a bloody long way short of being mentioned to this point.

In the meantime, we’ll continue to stick to our version of the high road while looking for ways to leverage our blog in ways that keep our self-esteem and integrity intact.

A restaurant dude said to me a few weeks back: “Kenny, you should understand – people trust your blog.”

Put that up against piffling Nuffnang dollars and PR-fuelled hackery and it’s no contest.

In any case, I was intrigued when – last year – I received an email from an outfit called StudioCea announcing a new monthly Melbourne foodie magazine called GRAM.

It’s aim was to “collate” the work of Melbourne bloggers, supply links back to the blogs of origin and get A3 newsprint copies around the city. Part of the deal involved barcodes to scan with mobile devices linking punters to the blogs involved.

I was fascinated – perhaps here was something that could be an opportunity for me as both blogger and journalist.

Long before the first issue hit the streets, I engaged Roberto and Merita from StudioCea in email and, eventually, face-to-face dialogue.

I liked them, I had some fun with it.

Right from the start, though, I warned them that one of the fundamentals of their approach – paraphrasing blogger posts and then providing links – was doomed to failure.

Unlike others, I believed them in terms of sincerity. The magazine publishing game is tough and I knew enough to believe that the full-page ads in the first few issues were falling way short of making them big bucks or even covering costs. 

I predicted, though, that many bloggers would see those same ads and scream: “RIP-OFF!”

Not a good look either, was GRAM’s decision to let individual bloggers opt out rather than opt in to a relationship with the magazine. Thus a blogger could find his or her work rewritten and used online at the magazine’s website and the hard copy without permission being granted.

All perfectly legal, but hardly the way to make friends with the food blogger community.

And so it turned out to be.

While I went about my business with Consider The Sauce and elsewhere, GRAM became a big talking point, a brouhaha with which I only recently became familiar.

Read about it in this news story at Crikey and feisty posts and comments at Tomato and Sarah Cooks.

After a few issues, the GRAM crew changed tack.

Henceforth, they would use entire bloggers posts and at least some of the photos involved.

Bloggers would be paid.

While the magazine continues to evolve – it’s up to issue number 9 under new ownership – the change in the ongoing relationship with Melbourne’s bloggers created an immediate and substantial improvement in the product.

While inevitably fewer bloggers are being used in each issue, the varied personalities of the bloggers selected for each issue are allowed to breath and shine.

As such, IMHO, it goes pretty close to mirroring the diverse, argumentative and colourful Melbourne food blogging scene.

As Roberto was happy to concede in an email to me, after I suggested the enforced change of structure was very much a blessing: “You are right – I (and others) do think it’s an improvement. It’s funny how these things turn out for the better hey?”

If my own experience is anything to go by, management old and new have adopted a very much hands-off approach to meddling with copy.

What’s that?

“Well, of course, he would say all that, wouldn’t he?!”

It’s true Consider The Sauce has been included three times in GRAM so far. It’s true I’ve been paid at rates that, from what I can gather, are more than fair when compared to, say, The Age’s Cheap Eats Guide or even Gourmet Traveller.

It’s true, too, that recent editions have included several of the Melbourne food blogs I admire and follow – while including none of those I detest!

Nevertheless, it seems to my admittedly biased eye that in a rapidly changing media landscape that affects the dynamics of the hospitality industry as much anything else, GRAM is playing a pretty nifty role in merging the passions of food bloggers with old-school publishing.

GRAM is now owned and operated by Prime Creative, which publishes such foodie titles as BeanScene and Italianicious, and a number of others magazines as well.

Prime Creative management and new editor Danielle Gullaci are letting their new baby continue to operate very much along the same lines as before, despite GRAM being very different from their other mastheads in terms of paper quality, size, distribution, readership and relationship with contributors.

This is both a good and a bad thing.

There’s always room for improvement, but GRAM seems to be striking a good balance at the moment.

On the other hand, GRAM’s distribution continues to be restricted to Melbourne’s CBD and hyper-inner-city suburbs such as Carlton.

I guess for some, GRAM and anything like it will always be anathema just on principle, and others may struggle to ever forgive the publication for those early mis-steps and clumsiness.

I’ve long maintained that the likes of The Age’s Cheap Eats Guide and its bigger and more formal and more big bucks sister are well out of date by the time the new editions hit the street each year.

A fellow blogger was more strident when commenting to me recently: “Mate, they’re out of date even before that!”

In that sort of context – of sweeping change and uncertainty – GRAM may not represent the future but it strikes me as a pretty fine present.

Galli Winery and Restaurant

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1507 Melton Hwy, Plumpton. Phone: 9747 1433

Galli Winery was noted down and placed high on the hit list during the course of a pleasant/pheasant visit to its next door neighbour, Gamekeepers Secret Country Inn.

Never ever, though, did I expect to visiting the winery so soon, let alone with the fabulous company of my oldest and dearest friend, Penny, who is in town for a week from Wellington.

We are so busy doing the catch-up thing that we fly along the Calder Highway and many kilometres past the turn-off to the Melton Highway before we realise we are effectively lost.

My stubborn opposition to ever retracing my steps comes into full play as we negotiate a series of country roads, some of them bumpy, some of them gravel and one of them a dead end, taking in an incredible view of the distant Melbourne CBD along the way..

Nevertheless we have a hoot of a time before eventually getting there, thanks to a reliable sense of direction and lot of finger jabbing at the Melway.

A 1.30pm lunch it is!

The winery dining room is fabulous. Though nothing much more than a glorified barn, it presents as a very pleasing, tranquil and sophisticated space.

Galli Winery has a variety of menus that can be checked out here.

Garlic and chilli fried olives with fetta and bread ($13.50) – frankly this is pretty ordinary, although after our adventures we’re hungry to go.

The olives are warm and good, though too oily and too garlicky; we can see the chillis, but they don’t seem to be embraced by the dish as a whole.

Penny uses the term “supermarket” to describe the fetta cheese – and she’s right.

The herbed cubes are edible and dull.

The best thing about the platter is the crunchy and moreish pitta bread, on which we are still nibbling when we are presented with our main fare.

Penny describes her caesar salad with “cajun spiced chicken” ($13.90) in terms barely approaching lukewarm. She’s certainly had better – she finds it all a bit tired.

The main protagonist of my meatloaf special ($13.90) is fine – tasty, tender, well-seasoned, all with a dark, rich onion gravy.

They’re badly let down by the supporting cast, though.

The potato wedges are sad and the “sour cream dipping sauce” sitting atop them seems nothing more than plain old sour cream. Dreadful is a word that comes to mind.

The breadcrumb-topped tomato is like something from a childhood nightmare and the sprig of broccoli is so close to raw it’s not worth quibbling over.

Our cafe lattes are just a touch north of good.

Galli Winery is a fabulous venue we’ll surely visit again, so pleasurable is it to pursue a western suburbs version of “get out of town” with such ease.

The largely indifferent nature of our food did absolutely nothing to spoil our afternoon, but I wonder if we may have fared better by taking “a horses for courses” approach and ordering a $30+ steak each.

However, reading between the lines of the various menus it seems likely even those would have come with the same vegetables and wedges, so that’s a worry right there.

No arguments, though, with the linen napkins, ice water and $53 price tag.

This warmly recommended destination comes with an “order with care” proviso from us.

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La Parisienne Pates

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290 Lygon St, Carlton. Phone: 9349 1852

Remember the Rainbow Warrior?

There was a time of several years in my life – and in the lives of just about every Kiwi around the world – when I’d sooner have gouged my eyes out than let anything French, liquid, solid or otherwise, pass my lips.

Thankfully, those days are long gone.

France is rehabilitated into the brotherhood of nations, even if it is no closer to sainthood than any of them.

Like several of its near neighbours and many others, France is up to its eyeballs in the wickedness of the arms industry.

The mock-solemn pronouncements of national leaders regarding the misbehaviour of tyrants in the Middle East and elsewhere deserve no more than snorts of derision.

From whence do the guns come?

Do they take us for fools? (Rhetorical question!)

And, of course, villains are far more likely to be of a transnational variety these days.

Corporations with tentacles in just about all countries who pay taxes in none.

Dangerous, stupid, ignorant ideas and the people who believe them also show complete disregard for nominal national boundaries.

And, no, I am not referring just to the usual terrorist bogey men! Christianist sharia law, anyone?

In any case, having briefly surveyed the surrounding Lygon St options and then engaging the staff in some pleasant chat, I am delighted to sit back, chill out and generally have a ball for an hour’s worth of lunch time at  La Parisienne Pates.

This is a splendid temple to all things French, with dazzling displays of lollie water, mustards, jams, pates, snags of many kinds, cheeses, sweeties and so on, including cassoulet that appears to be incredibly rich and fatty but a bit of a bargain at $25 a portion.

Most of the business seems to be of the take-out variety, though up the back there are a handful of marble tables where patrons can partake in the pleasures of a simple and affordable eat-in menu.

Being in a charcuterie, I do the smart thing and order the piggy platter of the same name.

Although never big consumers of cured meats, just lately we’ve backed away even more from having them around – been a long time since chorizo was a weekly event!

So it is with an easy heart and no guilt at all that I tuck into my lunch, which looks on the diminutive side for $16.

But as is so often the case, looks are deceiving – this is a filling repast and quite a bargain.

The OK baguette bread, of which I’m told there is plenty more should I require it, teams up with a handsome, juicy slab of pork and pistachio terrine. Wowee – it’s brilliant!

The other porky bits consist of a piece apiece of three different and very fine salamis and a rolled-up slice of ham.

The odd man out is a slice of pastrami, its coriander crust providing a flavour grenade.

Unmeaty variety is provided by a single chargrilled artichoke and a handful of sour and sublimely crunchy cornichons.

Such an unapologetically fatty meal renders the knob of butter surplus to requirements.

I eat much slower than is my usual habit, savouring every delicious mouthful.

Around me, other customers are getting stuck into one-man quiches and filled baguettes.

My cafe latte and the service are outstanding.

I leave with a caramelised onion tart and a small serve of swell-looking potato salad.

There’s heaps of good stuff to eat in and around Lygon St, but you’ve got to be smart about it – it’s all to easy to stumble into one of the many options that are of profound mediocrity.

In that context, La Parisienne Pates presents as an extremely handy and tranquil alternative. 

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At 43

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43 Anderson St, Yarraville. Phone: 9687 1198

What was once Cafe Urbano – an establishment of no great distinction – is now At 34, cafe by day and Thai restaurant by night.

It’s been open for a while, and we’ve often wondered how it’s going. On week nights it’s seemed a little forlorn, unloved and sparsely populated.

At 6.30pm on this Saturday night, there seems no such problems. Two tables are already busy as we arrive, two more are quickly occupied soon after and by the time we split a table of seven has also taken up residence.

This outing is Bennie’s call and it’s an inspired one. Considering his dad has been plowing through the debilitating effects of glandular fever all week, a casual five-minute stroll around the corner is much preferable to a wild drive to the wilds of Deer Park and the unknown quantities of an Indian eatery on an industrial estate. Maybe next time!

We have a swell time.

We wonder why we took so long to drop by.

The service is delightful and the arrival of our tucker prompt.

If our meal is good rather than really dandy, we happily blame a couple of dud menu choices.

Incredibly, for all the countless times Bennie have been out on the fang, this is the first Thai meal we’ve shared.

We start with one of the specials – gai hoi bai toey (marinated chicken cooked in pandan leaf, $6.90).

This is just OK for us. The chicken pieces are smallish, making the price seem a little on the steep side. They’re juicy enough, but there’s little or no taste of the publicised marinade flavour.

The pork salad (naem sod, $11.50) is a different matter entirely.

This is just as zingy with lime/lemon, ginger, coriander and chilli as we could wish, all of it a super foil for the chewy pork mince. Although it is at the upper chilli limit at which Bennie can enjoy eating!

The pad kee mao (fried thick rice noodle with chilli, sweet basil, vegetables and tofu, $11.90) is very mild by comparison.

In reality, the noodles are restrained in number, making this more of a straight-up wok-fried mixed vegetable dish. It’s good and does the job of adding variety and colour to our meal.

Our last hurrah fills us up right good – siszzling beef ($16).

This, too, is nice enough – plenty of beef pieces, almost as many cashew nuts, pleasant gravy. The problem seems to us that it’s more of a Chinese-style dish than a Thai one!

So … a good meal that may have been made better had we not tried so hard to steer clear of the usual Thai suspects.

We regret, for instance, not ordering the red duck curry ($18) on the specials board.

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What We Eat At Home: Part 1

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Bum Hummers pickled onions – spicy (but not too much), piquant and sour. I wonder why they’re called that?

Before it became an eventuality, it was initially presumed Consider The Sauce would be a compendium of eatery reviews and other stuff we get up to when out and about … AND stuff we get up to in our kitchen.

That has most certainly not turned out to be the case.

One reason for that is that we are daunted from doing so because of the number of high-quality blogs and websites around who do cover cooking at home.

Another reason is we reckon there is likely very little interest “out there” for any sort of ongoing rundown regarding our limited, rotating selection of meals, be they stews, soups, dals, salads or whatever.

We love what we do and eat at home, but certainly don’t expect anyone else to find it interesting.

A final reason is that there’s no reason why a food blog has to do it all, so we don’t.

Nevertheless, just for fun, very much for our own entertainment and as a matter of record, here we start a look at our kitchen regulars that may – or may not – turn into a series.

Yes, there are hipper and more righteous yogurts around, but we go through heaps, so this is an affordable, dependable option for us. For breakfast, for dessert with strawberries or mango, for raita, for tzatsiki.

Kiwi Gold – one shared each morning for breakfast. Life’s too short for the bitterness of regulation kiwifruit!

Look, anyone can go out and buy salt-free and/or organic corn chips. Whether they’d want to actually eat them is another matter entirely. We find these have just enough salt for flavour purposes. We love em! The newly available Mission chips are a viable substitute, but – damn! – they’re hard on the jaw muscles!

Weetbix for him …

… muesli – rolled oats, crushed oats, white sultanas, roasted almonds – soaked in milk overnight for me.

Something new for us – Istra snags from The Village Store. There are cheaper options available, of course, but gosh these are good!

Also a relatively new thing for us – cookies and biscotti and nougat from Pace Biscuits.

Coffee – just about any reasonable quality vacuum-packed product will do me, especially if it’s on special.

We’re happy to pay for and experiment with really good, boutique virgin olive oils … but so often we find we have run out when the only viable option available is the reliable Cobram range from our local supermarket.

Bickford’s cordials … Bennie prefers lime juice, Kenny prefers bitter lemon – if he can find it!

Jam – we don’t use a lot, and find a good-quality local product does the job just as good as imports, either fancy and high-priced or of the budget variety.

ajitoya

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82 Charles St, Seddon. Phone: 96871027

New review can be found here.

Adam and Maya have lived in Yarraville for five years, and for all of that time they’ve been thinking surely someone will get some Japanese action going in the neighbourhood in terms of eating out.

Nobody did … so they did!

They’ve been open for about a week when I visit and things are going good for them.

The concise yet astutely chosen Japanese grocery lines reflect Maya’s frustration about having to travel to Prahran, Moonee Ponds or Kyoto for the right products.

Adam tells me they were quite keen to do without selling the ubiquitous sushi rolls. But the fact they’re selling very briskly probably puts them in the category of things that simply can’t be avoided if you’re going into the Japanese eatery business.

For the time being,  they’re set up for providing quick, fine and affordable lunches and takeaway on a Tuesday-Saturday, 10am-7pm basis.

Adam tells me, though, that there’s space left in their musings and space on the premises, too, for a move towards more substantial dinner fare should things go well.

Adam’s background includes stints at Blue Train and Big Mouth while Maya has worked at Izakaya Den.

The ajitoya motto: “Does this train go to Osaka?” … that being something Adam was asked at least a gazillion times a day when he lived in Japan for three years.

Along with the rolls, the display cabinet holds four osozai, or salads. The soba noodles, coleslaw, salmon sashimi tataki and vegetables with sesame sauce dressing in shabu shabu style all look very lovely.

Being of robust appetite, I head straight for the menu section that details the bento meal combos.

They include karaage, agedashi tofu, sushi or a combination of three salads. With each comes rice, miso soup and a choice of one osozai, and mostly costing $16.

My miso soup is fine, of a good temperature and boasting a profusion of squishy tofu bits.

The coleslaw is everything I hope it will be, full of flavour from the sesame dressing and having that superb wilted crunchiness that only the Japanese and certain European cuisines seem capable of.

The fried chicken is little less tanned than is usually the case – maybe it was the first batch of the day? – but the coating is delicate and the chicken is just as juicy and flavoursome as I could want, beaut smeared with the dab of mayo on the side.

I suspect Adam and Maya are likely to find they were not alone in fervently wishing for a Japanese dining option in the neighbourhood, and certainly I’ll be returning very soon with Bennie – he’ll love the chook, but I reckon I’ll go for the clean and fresh salad combo.

Ms Baklover at Footscray Food Blog loves ajitoya, too, as you can discover by reading her review.

And check out the ajitoya Facebook page here.

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D’Lish Fish

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105 Beach St, Port Melbourne. Phone 9646 0660

There’s the weekend product of an afternoon’s cooking in the form of a no-doubt tasty mixed legume and vegetable soup awaiting in the freezer.

There’s good Italian cheese, excellent sourdough bread and olive oil to make it sing even more sweetly.

But a lusty must-be-obeyed desire for fish and chips has stolen in and mugged me.

Trouble is, it’s Monday night, and I trust none of the usual suspects in either Williamstown or Moonee Ponds to be open, so it’s over the bridge I go.

The ritzed-up Port Melbourne neighbourhood around the ferry terminal has been around a long time now, but it still has an air of artificiality about it – a bit like the Docklands waterfront precinct closer to the CBD.

Melbourne and its bay? Not a relationship that ever seems to prosper and thrive, is it?

In any case, we’ve never had much use for Port Melbourne, despite it being so close, really, to our western suburbs base. Although we have some good meals at Waterfront Station Pier Restaurant, which is just adjacent D’Lish Fish.

I’m delighted, however, to find this fish and chippery not only open early on a Monday night but actually quite busy. The sun is shining across the bay from Williamstown, there’s grandparents and grandkids coming and going; cyclists and joggers, of course.

It so feels like much later in the week – a Friday night when work and school are over, perhaps, or a lazy Sunday evening – that the effect is quite disorienting.

I seem to recall from a previous visit that what is now D’Lish Fish once bore the name of a famous, mouthy member of the AFL community. I’m glad that’s no longer the case.

Despite the flash surrounds there’s nothing flashy about D’Lish Fish – it’s a straight-up fish and chip place, rudimentary seating available inside and out. If the prices are just a smidgeon higher than our usual suspects, then it’s by so little as to be of no account.

In fact, my lunch pack – chosen from the menu behind the ordering counter at the entrance – is a pretty good deal.

Flake, four calamari rings, one prawn cutlet, chips – $13.

Throw in  tartare sauce and a can of that Coca Cola stuff and the damage is $17.50 – a little more than I was planning on spending on my dinner, but it’s just the ticket.

The calamari is superb – so tender and unchewy. It tastes of the sea!

The prawn cutlet, unusual for me, is pretty good, too.

The fish is excellent, firm and flavoursome. I really appreciate the fact it doesn’t leak oil on to the chips below, as is so often the case. It’s a little over-salted, though.

The chips are just good rather than great, and a little under-salted.

All in all, a fine meal – a spur of the moment decision come good.

In fact, I am pleased to note on my way back over the bridge that my tummy feels contentedly like it’s enjoyed a regulation meal – as opposed to the “Oh my God – what did I do that for?” feeling that sometimes follows the impulsive consumption of fish and chips, pizza and the like.

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Gol gappe at Classic Curry

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Shop 3, Clarke St, Sunshine. Phone: 9312 6766

Gol gappe is Indian street/snack food along the same lines as bhel puri.

Traditionally, it’s not meant to be part of a main meal, but that’s how I’m starting my lunch today.

The gols – seven for $5 – are egg-like spheres made from fried plain flour.

The top side is cracked open – just as with a boiled egg.

Into each one goes a heady mixture of boiled-but-still-crunchy channa dal, onion, diced potato and two tamarind-based sauces, one sour and one sweet.

Each gol is eaten whole, down the hatch, and I’m warned to get a move on as the clock is ticking. There’s no time to linger before the liquid innards render the bottoms soggy.

My last two gols do indeed collapse, but I love them just as much as their five predecessors.

Each one is a veritable mouthful of flavour explosion, all with a mild chilli hit.

They’re tangy magic of the highest order!

Also called pani puri, I can see these becoming a regular post-school snack for Bennie and I.

But a meal they do not make, so I resort to my trusty choice of chole bhatura ($7), which I was unaware Classic Curry produced a version of despite the frequency with which I’ve eaten here in recent years.

Oh God, this is outstanding – right up there with the recently sampled rendition at Sharma’s and the earlier experience at Bikanos in Werribee!

The breads are light, ungreasy and so fresh they emit steam when torn open.

The chick pea curry is mild with a more sophisticated gravy than is often the case.

The yogurt is creamy and a little salty in a delicious way.

On the side and joining sliced red onion is a dab of fresh chutney made with onions and boasting tremendous flavour from fresh mint.

As others have created blogs dedicated to, say, parmas and burgers, so does Consider The Sauce seem to be heading in a similar direction with chole bhatura.

But given its almost total invisibility on food blogs and in the broader foodie media – dosas, for instance, get much better coverage – it seems a job that requires doing!

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The Pie & Pastry House

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166 Churchill Ave, Braybrook. Phone: 9311 3388

Gotta love an old-school pie shop – and it’s a delight that there’s so many in the western suburbs, happily holding their own amid the multicultural swirl.

The Pie & Pastry House, operating since 1952 according the its business card, certainly fits the bill right from the decor and screen door to the milkshake machine and technicolour display of doughnuts.

It lives in a Braybrook shopping strip that features a couple of Filipino places awaiting our further exploration and opposite a park and adventure playground at which we’ve attended many a birthday party.

I order my standard lunch in such places – a plain beef pie and a sausage roll.

The plastic cutlery is a bit of a downer, offset by the tomato sauce coming in squeeze bottle form rather than the a horrid sachet.

The pastry outer of my sausage roll is incredibly flaky, and soon the whole table is flecked with it. It’s just OK, tending towards blandness – as sausage rolls tend to do.

The pie, pastry not so flaky, is better, though in need of a seasoning boost by my way of thinking.

I like my lunch items, and I sense that they and the other lines the shop sells are perfectly suited for its loyal and long-term customers, quite a few of whom come and go as I am going about my lunch business.

The vanilla slices look scrumptious.

The ginormous family-size pasties, at $9.50, look like an outright bargain and destined soon for a test run on our dinner table. Visual appraisal suggests that with a bit of help from salad on the side, they’d feed two adults and two kids no problem

All I take away with me though are a single lemon tart ($1.25) and a single cream shortbread ($1).

The former is, fittingly, old-school, with a slightly chewy filling.

The latter is a sensational taste grenade – two pieces of light, fresh shortbread, joined by a smooth vanilla cream and dusted in icing sugar.

It’s not just the highlight of the day – it’s the best of the week.

Such a simple, affordable pleasure!

Gamekeepers Secret Country Inn

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1555 Melton Hwy, Rockbank. Phone: 9747 1000

The Olde English thing has never worked for me.

I’d be hard pressed to tell authentic Olde English from faux Olde English.

In fact, I harbour suspicions that there is no such thing as authentic Olde English, even though I lived there for a few years a very long time ago.

But as I wander around the somewhat vast dining room of Gamekeepers Secret Country Inn, I rapidly warm to the place.

How can I not when its embracing of the gamey theme is done with such brazen, unapologetic and politically incorrect zeal?

There are formerly live things of the furred, feathered and scaled variety hanging from the ceilings and adorning the walls wherever I look. They’re now very much of the dead persuasion.

It was Keith of the venerable Heather Dell bakery in Yarraville from whom we got the tip about this place, but it’s a taken a year for me to find my way here.

With a drive on the Bacchus Marsh-Geelong road beckoning after lunch is done, I am finding the change of routine a tonic. I have an armful of newly-arrived CDs of the Tex-Mex and swamp pop variety, and even Hawaiian guitar recorded in Paris in the ’30s, to keep me very fine company. I love the internet!

Quite oddly the establishment’s food fare seems to be lacking any offerings of a game-based tucker equivalent of the overwhelming theme of the decor.

The food on the main menu and the cheapo lunch list that is the focus of myself, and presumably the handful of other tables in use for this midweek lunch, features a regular lineup of oysters, pasta, salads, ribs, steaks, a seafood platter, roast duck, garlic prawns and so on.

Typical country pub fare, in other words – its own kind of comfort food. This change of routine, too, can sometimes be a tonic and I’m looking forward to my lunch.

Having already perused the option at the inn’s website, I have my heart set on the corned beef from the lunch list, which also includes braised lamb shank, steak sandwich and beer-battered fish and chips – all for $14.50.

How nice and quirky is it to be charged $14.50 for something – as opposed to, say, $13.99 or $14.99?

The vegetable component of my lunch is very good – they’re cooked through but still have a beaut element of crunch.

The mashed spuds aren’t a patch on the coarse skin-on version we rustle up at home with just olive oil, salt, pepper and parsley, but I like it anyway.

The sauce, using a seeded mustard, has sufficient tang to overwhelm my three medium-thick and very mildy-flavoured slices of corned beef.

Remember back a decade or more ago when corned beef became so very trendy around Melbourne? This is like that – I hanker for the heftier, saltier flavour whack that resides in memory of the corned beef served countless time to me during my upbringing by that most superb of cooks, Pauline Ethel Weir. (Hi Mum!)

Maybe it’s another trick of the mind.

In any case, I save my last slice of Gamekeepers corned beef to savour at the end of my meal, at which point the flavours do come through with a strongish whiff of cloves.

It’s all good and I enjoy my lunch. The bill of $14.50 seems pretty fair for this kind of food in this kind of place.

After eating, I embark on another stroll around, taking in more of the dead critters and the music room upstairs. The entertainment fare seems to be very much of the Kenny, Dolly, Big O and Neil variety.

After paying and exiting, I walk across to the neighbouring Galli winery, where I am knocked out by the gorgeous dining room and peruse their menus, which actually traverse very similar territory and price range as those of the inn I have just departed.

Another one for the hit list!

My first ever drive on the road from Bacchus Marsh to Geelong is pleasant but somewhat featureless, though I do see lots of parrot-type birds – of the live variety this time.

The soundtrack is fabulous.

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