Shakespeare Hotel (Surry Hills) - To beer or not to beer, that is the question

As "our" Jackie walks the red carpet in a few hours time among Hollywood's glitterati, taking in the atmosphere of the Kodak Theatre, smiling for the world's cameras, doing Australia proud, she does so knowing full well she has Buckley's Chance of taking home an Academy Award. Being an underappreciated battler is what we Aussies love though, and as the crowd of imbibing revellers in Shakespeare Hotel will attest, this is another beloved Aussie underdog. 

And just as Ms. Weaver is battling the likes of Amy Adams, Helena Bonham Carter, and Melissa Leo for that golden statuette, the 'Shakey' as it's affectionately known by the locals is competing against the Tetsuya's, Quays, and Rockpools of Sydney's dining landscape with similar futility.

Shakespeare Hotel is your typical pub and bistro, situated in Surry Hills' leafy and quiet Devonshire Street. Unpretentious, strepitous, casual, and not the place for a teetotaller, the hotel is home to an unassuming bistro serving generous portions of hearty comfort food. And did I mention it is cheap? Twelve bucks fifty for all main meals with no conditions is a bargain in this day and age, even if it was only ten dollars before this year. Hotel bistros are not immune to inflation either it seems.

And the Oscar for the best Jackie Weaver caricature goes to ....

The menu is full of bistro faves: chicken schnitzel, t-bone steak, bangers and mash, salt and pepper squid, fish and chips, and various burgers and pizzas. The only deviations from the bistro template include a green fish curry, braised lamb shanks, and bbq pork ribs. All meals come with a choice of salad, chips, rice, or mash, and there are the usual assortment of sides available for $5.50 each. You place and pay for the order at the front bar and in return you receive a buzzer with which you redeem your meal at the kitchen counter in the back dining room. No table service here, but the kitchen is super-quick and efficient; our order was ready within five minutes.

Coopers beer battered fish & chips ($12.50)

The fish and chips is fairly standard: two Coopers ale-battered slender pieces of fish on top of a mound of steak-cut chips, but is scrumptious. The fish is just crispy on the outside, flaky and soft on the inside, with the taste of beer readily apparent. The equally battered chips are excellent also, even being smothered by the fish, and they retain their crispiness well into the meal. The accompanying housemade tartare sauce is tangy, while the generous proportioned salad is well dressed. A worthy piscine contender.

Braised lamb shanks with mash and salad ($12.50)

The braised lamb shanks are even more generous and likely to make you fuller than a fat lady's bra. Two huge clubs of ovine goodness braised in a tomato sauce and herbs, and all for $12.50. I purchased two similar-sized shanks at the butcher last week for $10, so this is a bargain. The tender meat slides off the bone with minimal effort from the fork, but its weakness is slight underseasoning. The tomato and rosemary flavours are hearty but not overly strong. The bed of mash is still chunky just how we like it and the salad is the same as with the fish and chips. A dish for the unfussy carnivore.

Shakespeare Hotel may not garner any fine-dining awards for its food, but its niche lies in its value, simplicity and alacrity. The kitchen is adept at knocking out plate after plate of tried-and-true dishes, and in serving sizes that will satisfy most parsimonious gourmands. 

Something tells me as the woman responsible for the frightening sang-froid that is Animal Kingdom's Janine Cody leaves tonight empty-handed (apart from the profligate goodie bag of course), she will be comforted to know her caricature is a permanent fixture on the wall of the Shakey's dining room, a win-win situation. Let's hear it for the bard and for the underdog.

The good: $12.50 for generously sized mains, super-quick kitchen, menu selection, fish and chips, caricatures of famous Australian actors and actresses on the walls

The bad: bar counter service is aloof and unfriendly, dining room is dingy

What the?: the state of the male lavatory (typical of a bar's)




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Albee's Kitchen (Campsie) - Just call my name, and Albee there. Almost.

Campsie has never been a happy culinary ground for me, and it is a year or so since my last visit. What has brought me back is the promise of a cheap and unpretentious Malaysian-Chinese eatery by the name of Albee's Kitchen, located on busy Beamish Street in the heart of Campsie.

Malaysian food is on the ascendancy in Sydney - as last week's unmitigated success of the Malaysia Kitchen Food Market proved -  with Mamak already forging a formidable reputation through its irresistable roti. Others have begun to facsimile its success, with places like Mamak Village and Malacca Straits (coincidentally both in Broadway) recent additions.

Albee's not in Broadway, and it has a much more homely feel, but it matches them both for Malaysian authenticity, cheap prices, and efficient service.

Decor at Albee's is as unassuming as it gets: foldaway tables, posters of Malaysia doubling as tourism adverts, fluoro-cardboard hand-scribbled specials, plastic serving ware, and a Winnie The Pooh curtain covering the kitchen doorway.

The menu is equally unpretentious, with large servings of Malaysian and Chinese favourites quick to prepare and even quicker to eat.

Besides the dining-in option, Albee's also has a selection of Malaysian savouries and sweets in plastic containers for sale at the front counter, with tapioca cakes, taro cakes, and sweet potato cakes (talam ubi) popular items. But we haven't got that far yet.

Char kuey tiaw ($9.50)

The first dish is the perennial hawker's favourite of char kuey tiaw (I wish there is a standardised spelling), a monticulous jumble of the usual ingredients: flat white noodles, bean sprouts, prawns, egg, fishcake, and spring onions. This one is not too spicy but it's not too oily either, and is an above average version of this hearty dish.

Seafood and pork hand roll ($13.80)

The seafood and pork hand roll is not something we've encountered before in a Malaysian eatery, but then again we haven't visited too many. The menu description is not quite right as it's not a roll but two, and they are substantial. Meatloafy on the inside with pork and seafood and a smattering of vegetables for texture and colour, these rolls are deliciously crispy on the outside courtesy of the tofu skin. Yum.

Towards the meal's end we are served bowls of a complimentary soup, which is light, refreshing and tastes of melon. It is odd we weren't served these before the dishes, but there is no point in demurring over something both complimentary and complementary.

Unable to finish the food we ask for a doggy bag, a request happily obliged. Albee's is not the most glamorous Malaysian eatery around, but what it does is provide good quality, authentic Malaysian dishes without breaking the bank, and a good reason to visit Campsie when hankering for some hawker food.


Further along Beamish Street a new Chinese bakery has also sprung up. A year ago, the only Chinese sweet and savoury breads sold in the area was in a shop across the street, where the buns were cling-wrapped and stale-looking, so to have a dedicated bakery is a fillip. Golden Crown has the usual assortment of goodies: pineapple buns, cocktail buns, barbecued pork buns, egg tarts, sponge cakes, etc. and the quality is good and certainly better than some of the dreck sold in Chinatown. It has taken an eternity for Campsie to get a Chinese bakery, and there is still some ways to go before it demands attention, but the addition of Golden Crown is a welcome step in the right direction.

The good: cheap, fast and authentic Malaysian hawker food, seafood and pork hand roll, large portions, dedicated Chinese bakery finally in Campsie

The bad: timing of complimentary soup, bowl of white rice ordered didn't arrive, my bad pun

What the?: Winnie The Pooh curtain




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Assiette (Surry Hills) - classic hits

It's been seven hours and fifteen days, as the iconic eighties song goes, but it's only been twelve hours, fifty-five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds since Michael Buble finished his encore at the Acer Arena with a flourish, ending the night with a horripilating final two verses sung sans microphone to the 20000-plus capacity crowd.

Today, we find ourselves on Friday at Assiette, a restaurant which, like the Canadian king of croon, is suave, smooth and sophisticated on the outside, but a little playful and cheeky on the inside.

Assiette was the scene of our first memorable degustation, a ten-course masterclass in variety, presentation and mirific flavours, but we have yet to dine here at lunch. Timing issues with a little damned thing called 'work' has meant missing out on their famed three-course Friday lunch special, but we are finally here, ready to be serenaded again.

Aside from a new air-conditioning unit, not much else has changed since our last visit over a year ago. The decor is still awash in sophisticated whites, browns, and blacks; the tables are still in the same positions and double-tableclothed; the cutlery motifs are still ever-present; the three Fornasetti face prints still eyeball diners from all angles; and the male restroom wallpaper is still chauvinistically fabulous (wink, wink). Why change when everything works so well?

Apart from the three-course lunch, the regular a la carte menu is also served, but it would be foolhardy to pass on the value-packed $35 special, despite its limitations. Each course has only two dishes to choose from, but in culinary simplicity lies consistency and confidence.

Complimentary bread roll

The cute bread roll arrives quickly and it is reassuringly warm. The first time we dined at Assiette, the bread rolls were so fresh out of the oven we practically suffered first-degree burns from holding them, so we are thankful it doesn't happen today. The rolls are wonderfully crisp on the outside while doughy on the inside, and the accompanying butter is of perfect room-temperature consistency, not granite-hard like some restaurants. Maybe there should a butter hardness scale like the Mohs scale of mineral hardness.

Corn and spring onion risotto with tempura prawn

We both begin with the tempura prawn risotto, because the other entree option of artichoke soup is unappealing as I am sweating bullets in the tropical humidity. Three golden nuggets of tempura prawn sits on creamy risotto, with a ring of parsley oil drizzled around the base. The prawns are perfectly fresh and plump, and we would have been happy with that, but the tempura adds a delectable crispiness otherwise absent. Two of my prawns are great but the third suffers from a case of the mushies from sitting on the rice, so it pays to eat quickly. The risotto is a simple mix of rice, corn kernels, and onions but it is flavoured nicely and not stodgy. So, like the Bond-bombastic Cry Me A River beginning to the Buble concert, this entree delivers with pomp and a bang.

Roast pork belly with colcannon and red wine jus

The pork belly main is a simple presentation of two central elements on the plate. A spunky hunk of pork belly sits adjacent to the colcannon, an Irish dish of mashed potato and cabbage. The blistered skin perfection that is pork crackling is a little tough on the molars, and the rest of the pork is a little chewy, but it is well seasoned. The colcannon quenelle is a nice combination and pairs well with the meaty pork, but the red wine jus is indistinct.

Pan fried dory with fennel, pea and potato rosti and caper beurre noisette

The dory main looks fantastically vibrant, a well-layered stack of three pan-fried fish pieces on a pea and potato rosti and dotted with a drizzle of caper beurre noisette (and I suspect the green parsley oil from the risotto entree). Alas, the taste is not quite commensurate with the presentation. The dory is cooked well: slightly crispy and with firm flesh, but is querkened by being over-salted, especially with the added presence of the briny capers. The saltiness is somewhat quelled by the scrumptious rosti which has little seasoning, but the combination is still unbalanced towards the sodium chloride.

Seemingly in parallel with the previous night's concert, where the normally reliable Mr. Buble suffered in the middle part of the show with truncated notes and unwelcome melody changes, the mains today falters slightly from inconsistencies. Despite this flat middle section, we look forward to the desserts like an encore of greatest hits.

Gingerbread sponge cake with honeycomb ice cream

The gingerbread sponge cake is a baton of dense, moist cake much richer than a typical sponge. It has a delicious crumbly base and its gingerbreadiness is super. The honeycomb ice cream is fairly subtle by itself but is a knockout when paired with the smattering of honeycomb pieces to create a Violet Crumble-esque delight. A dessert low on ado but high on sweetness and contrasting textures is always a winning combination.

Chocolate mousse with raspberry sorbet

One look at this dessert and I'm swept off my feet. Served in a martini glass, it oozes sensuality, coolness and sophistication to rival Mr. Buble's trademark dulcet tones. As beautiful and fitting a dessert as one will find during Valentine's Day week, it is sweet, luscious and seductive. Silky smooth chocolate mousse with a whiff of bitterness is balanced beautifully with the tang of the macerated raspberries and sorbet. Simple but oh so sexy.

The two desserts leaves us on a sugary high, not unlike the previous evening when the Bube's valedictorian tune of Song For You leaves the crowd in raptures. There is no doubt the man dubbed the 'Justin Bieber for the over 30s' can put on an entertaining show, and this is mirrored by our dining experience at Assiette today.

Despite Assiette's main man Warren Turnbull leaving his fine diner to oversee his new venture District Dining, his team is more than capable of holding the fort. There may have been one or two minor quibbles with the execution of the mains, but the overall standard remains high. Not much has changed in the year since our last visit, but the status quo is enough to keep us singing its praises. The food is still fun, refined and art gallery-esque, the service efficient and friendly, and the value outstanding. Let's hope it won't be another 365 days before we get to return for an encore.

The good: tempura prawn risotto, desserts, dish presentation, service, value

The bad: minor technical issues with the mains

What the?: bikini babes wallpaper in the men's restroom

www.restaurantassiette.com.au

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Four In Hand (Paddington) - Four-In Hand(ywork)

Call me frugal; call me parsimonious; call me niggardly; but don't call me late for dinner, especially not at Four In Hand, an erstwhile underrated restaurant now well and truly in its floruit.

I dislike the commercialism of Valentine's Day and the concomitant increase in restaurant prices for that one day of the year when we are obliged to bedinner our better halves; I therefore like to celebrate a few days before, like the calm before the storm. So here we are at Four In Hand on a cool and mizzly Saturday night, the rain providing belated relief in a week of damning heat.

We dined at Four In Hand once before around nine months ago, and back then it was an understated jewel in the crown of Paddington's dining scene. Its steady rise has come through word of mouth and has culminated in the restaurant being awarded two hats in the 2011 Good Food Guide, Irish-born chef Colin Fassnidge's recognition as a finalist for Chef Of The Year, and his soon-to-be national stardom with his appearance in the next series of MasterChef Australia. All that in the space of twelve months in an unprepossessing restaurant attached to a bar.

Located inconspicuously in the laneways of Paddington, its muted exterior doesn't reveal the magic conjured up in the kitchen of this converted terrace house. The dining room is small and very intimate, with as many tables comfortably slotted into the downstairs space as possible, while there is a small private dining room upstairs. Decor is pleasingly austere, with only the two halves of a giant squid painting making a play for one's attention. It is formal yet relaxed at the same time, but not so relaxed you can rock up in shorts and thongs. Ahem.

The menu is predominantly French with contemporary flourishes, so as well as roast chicken and lobster chowder, one may find sashimis and the playful use of miso and dashi. The chef is also into nose-to-tail cooking so animal trotters or ears or tails may find themselves on the menu in one form or another. What we liked when dining here previously was the liberal use of a wide variety of vegetables, so meats and vegetables are equally stars in chef Fassnidge's universe.

The five-course degustation is an obvious choice for us, seeing many of the dishes on it are what we would have ordered a la carte. Plus, it has been an age since we enjoyed a cenatory degustation, so it is a pleasure leaving it in the chef's adroit hands.

While we wait for the amuse bouche, we are served a tranche of sourdough bread. It's doughy and yum but the crust is a little too crunchy for my liking.

Amuse bouche - fish soup with basil and citrus

The amuse bouche arrives quickly soon after: a small cup of soup redolent of fish. Pungent and strongly flavoured, the hints of basil and citrus (orange we are told) are slightly overpowered, but it is seasoned well and moreish.

Sashimi of trout with avocado snow and vanilla

The fun really begins with the sashimi of trout, three tender pieces of orange-pink fish buried in a floriated avalanche. Visually similar to Restaurant Arras' famed vegetarian dish The Raw and The Cooked, the vibrancy is a wowser. Folded ribbons of cucumber, thinly sliced florets of cauliflower, and shaved radish discs populate this dish with niveous avocado and tiny kernels of popcorn dotted throughout. Zingy, sweet, refreshing, and an auspicious start.

Braised pigs tail with corn and lobster chowder

The second dish starts off somewhat visually appealing, but it disappears in a pool of auburn chowder. The lively microherbs and juicy corn kernels in the bowl are drowned by the creamy soup poured by the server. The trail of pig's tail climbing out of the swamp looks unappetising and turns out to be the dish's defeature. Having never eaten pig's tail, expectations are low, and it stays that way. It is a little fatty, a little stringy, a little disappointing. It is seasoned well but other than that I'm not sure how it inveigled itself into the dish. The chowder on the other hand is substantial, creamy, hearty and full of punchy lobster flavour, leaving me to wonder about the pig's tail's presence. Perhaps a small piece of lobster instead of the skerricks would have better fitted.

Lamb two ways with baby fennel, courgette puree, pickled vegetables

The third savoury course is lamb in two ways: one a braised tongue, the other a deboned cutlet cooked sous vide or poached. Again the plate is piled high with a spectacular rainbow of vegetables, pickled, pureed, and an olive oil confit, lovingly concinnated. The chef certainly wants us to eat vegetables with this dish. Disinterring the proteins from the leafery we find the tender tongue and a succulently pink cutlet, both seasoned nicely and melt-in-the-mouth delicious. The medley of vegetables, herbs, and pine nuts soars with variety, textures, and flavours; the only misstep is an almost raw baby fennel that requires much fletcherizing. We are also given a spoon for this dish which goes unused.

Braised brisket, poached veal, miso and orange stock with pearl barley

The fourth and final savoury dish is surprisingly similar in style to the previous, except it is veal in two ways. Again a melange of seasonal vegetables garnish the dish. There is also a carb component of barley in this dish as well as a wading pool of stock. The poached veal is pink and tender-riffic, while the braised brisket is fall-apart scrumptious. The miso and orange stock has deep flavour but without a spoon, it is impossible to finish despite attempts to soak it up using the poached veal. Eventually we ask for a spoon and the rest vanishes in no time. We wonder to ourselves if we were given a spoon in the wrong order, seeing this dish needed one and the previous lamb dish did not.

Immediately after the savouries, my prevailing thought is the courses are unbalanced in favour of the meats. A piece of cooked seafood would have been welcome in one of the courses.

In a five-course degustation, there is only room for one dessert, so our expectations are high it will be a ripper, especially as it's a play on such a well-known and much loved chocolate bar.

The '4's' chocolate Snickers

Snickers is the Mars chocolate confection combining the heavenly quartet of chocolate, peanuts, caramel and nougat. The cover version here playfully pays homage with a deconstruction of sorts, comprising of caramel peanut ice cream, caramel nougat, chocolate ganache and crisp, and an unusual sprinkling of fresh herbs. Everything tastes as it's supposed to and the herbs add a touch of whimsy while the sparing specks of salt tempers the sweetness. Crunchy, smooth, cold, gooey, peanutty, and a trigger for Type 2 diabetes, this dessert is more Michael Buble's Come Fly With Me than Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah, but is still a decadent delight. Having seen the Magnum and now the Snickers, my eagerness for their next sweet deconstruction knows no bounds. One can only hope it'll be a Golden Gaytime or a Triple Chocolate Cornetto.

Aside from the food, the timing of the courses was Swiss-watch precise. We requested the meal take no longer than about one-and-a-half hours, and were told there is about ten minutes between courses, which was right on the money. Each dish was caringly described by the server, and all questions answered with alacrity. One server seemed particularly harried in demeanour, but this did not affect the overall service.

So our first degustation of 2011 ends in a cover-driven four to the boundary. Four In Hand may be hard to get to, is attached to an often bustlingly noisy bar, and its nearby parking nightmarish, but there are many redeeming features. The service tonight oscillated between friendly, professional, hurried and aloof - and there was that spoon confusion - but the quality of the food stood out. With a confident and artistic chef at the helm who gives each ingredient equal time and care, the dishes are a triumph of simplicity and superb cooking. A few lapses here and there fail to dampen the enthusiasm we have for this restaurant, and its ascent to the forefront of Sydney dining is warranted and assured.

The good: overall food quality is superb, use of vegetables, service, timing of the courses

The bad: underwhelming pig's tail, tough baby fennel, the spoon confusion, dinner opening time of 6.30p.m., the side of chips (which are fantastic) is no longer available in the restaurant (but is in the bar), tables are a little close together, slightly unbalanced five-course degustation, my bad pun

What the?: only one unisex toilet/restroom

www.fourinhand.com.au

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Emmilou (Surry Hills) - And the Emmy for best tapas on Bourke Street goes to ....

With the mercury hitting a skin-blistering forty degrees Celsius combined with enervating humidty, the thought of a big heavy meal was less than appetising. In such trying conditions, fish and chips by the sea or a refreshing salad by the beach appeals. Alas, we are stranded in Bourke Street in the middle of the city, with anywhere more than a hundred or so metres too Sisyphean a walk. Thankfully, in this Sahara-like heat wave, the hip and cool tapas bar-cum-restaurant Emmilou suddenly appears like a mirage in the oasis, ready to be our cenatory saviour.

Small sharing plates are ideal in this weather, and Sydney is in the midst of a tapas takeover. Everywhere you go they are serving tapas, the joy being to taste many different dishes without over-indulging. We have all been in situations where we order the only sucky dish from the menu, and watch in envy as our dining companions are tantalised by their meals. As each mouthful of our food becomes more and more tedious, our companions in contrast are oohing and aahing and Homer-drooling over every morsel on their plate, the lucky sods. That is one reason tapas are such a great idea; we can share the wonderful and mediocre together, one dish at a time.

Emmilou is situated towards the Oxford Street end of Bourke Street, next to a place of worship. Perhaps divine intervention led us to this place, or maybe not.

The restaurant is a converted terrace house, with some of the dining area on the verandah jutting into the street, making it an ideal drinking and eating destination on a bright sunny day. Alas, today is too bright and sunny, although there is a retractable roof over the verandah providing versatility for clement and inclement weather. The decor is typically au courant eclectic with plenty of reds, blacks, mirrors, funky light pendants, metallic-tiled ceiling, scribbles on walls, and Phillipe Starck ghost chairs.

The menu is a restrained list of creative sharing plates, both small and large, from stuffed zucchini flowers to sardines on toast, to goat sausage to pork belly (which is the most expensive dish at $30). There is also a tasting menu of four courses for $80 per person ($120 with wines and cocktails), which is a selection of the signature dishes.

Being so humid is having a negative effect on our normal edacity, so we choose a small dish and two large ones with the option of more should our stomachs grumble.

Huevos - crispy quail eggs with celery salt and corn ($10)

Huevos is the Spanish word for eggs, and here we have quail eggs, whose size makes them ideal for tapas (and thankfully too small for gestating Lady Gagas). Quail eggs seem to be undergoing a renaissance of sorts, at least where we've been dining the past few months. The Emmilou version have these dainty things crumbed and deep-fried, a delectable marriage of exterior crunch and interior gooeyness. Sitting on top of buttery creamed corn kernels, it's not a combination for the heart or arteries but for the palate, and a marriage of necessity, not convenience. Even though the yolks are not MKR Manu-standard runny and the celery element is subtle, they are still bloody scrumptious. More please.

Calamar - chargrilled baby squid, prawn butter, baby radish and cherry tomatoes ($24)

Calamar is the Spanish word for squid (obviously), but what comes on the plate is a surprise. Expecting a salad of sorts with a melange of chargrilled squid pieces, radish, and tomatoes, what sat in front of us is an explosion of kaleidoscopic proportions. Four squid sections stuffed with cooked red cabbage and chickpeas sits on a cauliflower puree. Matchstick strips of baby radish and dollops of a pesto placed neatly on top and an accompanying prawn butter complete the dish, with the cherry tomatoes conspicuous by its absence. The squid is chargrilled well, with no hint of rubbery chewiness (at last!), and its smoothness melds well with the vegetarian stuffing. The creamy prawn butter is a myocardial infarction contributor but pairs well with the stuffed squid. The dish is overburdened - in particular the redundant puree - but the flavours crepitate (figuratively) in the mouth satisfyingly.

Pimientos Rellenos - Alaskan king crab croquettes with grain mustard vinaigrette ($20)

Pimientos rellenos is Spanish for stuffed peppers, and at first we are confused reconciling the visual with the dish description, until we dig a little deeper. These are in fact stuffed peppers - red piquillos filled with a mash of potato and crab, coated in bread crumbs and deep fried. Genius. The stuffing is more potato than crab and homogeneous texturally, but the encasing layers of red pepper and bread crumbs elevates the dish significantly. The grain mustard vinaigrette with its roe-like mustard seeds douses our tastebuds and is initially overwhelming; after a while, we embrace the spiciness and we are friends again.

With the tapas so refreshingly delicious, we have high hopes for the desserts. Alas, just as we are about to order, we notice the time and realise the allotted parking period is about to expire, so we skedaddle. Without a doubt, parking at the Oxford Street end of Bourke Street is a nagging bitch.

The void in our stomachs is still pining for that sugar however, so we go searching for that fix. Fortunately, Gelato Messina is nearby and ready, willing, and able to satisfy our remaining hunger pangs.

Having read about this gelatarium on other posts, we are blissfully aware of the wonderful  flavours available, so choosing wasn't a problem (except for the fact that Elvis Lives was absent). However, communication was. From me. Oops. Wanting to order one waffle cone each of coconut pandan and banana bread, the server instead gives me a double-scooped cone of the two flavours. After correcting my apparently confusing sentence structure, she gets the order right and we now have one cone each as intended. Praise the almighty gelato Lord!

Coconut pandan (r) and banana bread (l)

Like all great gelati, these are rich, dense, smooth and luscious. There is a perfect balance of coconut and pandan flavours in the coconut pandan, and anyone who loves either flavour will be jelly-kneed. The banana bread is equally yummy, and even though I only had a small mouthful, that one bite contained a sizeable chunk of banana bread. Swoon.

So despite the oppressive weather, the afternoon is a resoundingly delicious success. Not only are the tapas at Emmilou gambol-licious, but the ambience and friendly service really brings everything together into a funky package neatly tied with a bow and ribbon. It is a shame we could not try any desserts, but the folks at Gelato Messina almost made up for that. The smooth creamy scoops of gelati are top-notch and allowed us to come away from the day with not the weather on our minds but the happiness of our bellies.

The good: huevos, calamar, coconut pandan gelato, banana bread gelato

The bad: unisex restroom in Emmilou, parking around Bourke Street, too many gelati flavours at Gelato Messina and not enough stomach room, being told by the server the creamed corn in the huevos dish was corn puree

What the?: the placement of a chair underneath the hand dryer and the huge cracked mirror in Emmilou's restroom

www.emmilou.com.au

 www.gelatomessina.com.au

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