La Vucciria

AFTER opening the bright and lacquered red door at La Vucciria I must admit I was a little bit taken a back with the decor of this Sicilian trattoria – I thought it a bit too dark for my ageing eyes. Tea lights and a couple of slated wooden (but beautiful) ceiling lights try to illuminate its black walls and dark wooden floors where dark blackwood chairs and tables stand. To one side is a grey marble bar lined with wooden stools with the rear wall stocked with what seems to be every liquor required. Large black-and-white photographs of Palermo’s famous La Vucciria market (which the restaurant is named and inspired by), adorn the opposite wall. At the far end is a floor-to-ceiling blackboard proudly declaring the menu. Sicilian themes are also loudly proclaimed with a giant and proud cactus and a bust of the sun god Apollo both at the entrance. For a modern (and cheeky) touch there’s a graphic of a handgun hanging on a wall.

La Vucciria is on busy Flinders Street at Paddington (just down from the Captain Cook Hotel and the SCG). I remember it many years ago as a Thai restaurant – Wild Rice – a nice little place where I dined a couple of times and on my last visit where I was hypnotized as part of the entertainment for a mate’s 40th birthday. I don’t remember much but apparently I crowed liked a rooster and gave birth to a teddy bear. I digress (as my mind did that embarrassing night).

La Vucciria’s service is friendly, unobtrusive and generous. As soon as we are settled the wine menu comes out with a little bowl of plump green Sicilian olives. The menu on the back wall is hard to read in the dimly lit and dark space but thanks to the attentive and knowledgeable waiter it is dictated with flair (and translated), to the group of ex-pat South Australians I was dining with. Our waiter, after reeling off the menu, declares that the restaurant and its chef, Fabio Alacqua (a Sicilian native), will use the freshest seasonal produce he can find to recreate classic Sicilian-inspired dishes. He also announces proudly that Fabio makes his own pasta for that genuine Sicilian touch.

The wine list features a blend of Australian, Sicilian and other Italian regional wines and is pasted on some sort of old Sicilian travel magazine or brochure which is as interesting as the list (and a little distracting). Eventually we all decide to go for a Sicilian: a Torre Solaria ($42) and another Italian: an Abruzzo Masciarelli Trebbiano ($42).

As the wine is poured a large white plate of gleaming pink thin slices of prosciutto twirled on cristini sticks and drizzled with olive oil are delivered gratias from the kitchen (and was well received by the table).

La Vucciria’s (and Fabio’s) generosity was to continue throughout the night.

The menu is about simple Sicilian-inspired fare, and as we were informed, could change daily as it was dependant on what Fabio found in at the markets. On this night the entrée were: prawn arincini ($15); eggplant involtini ($13); crispy calamari, prawn and zucchini ($18); prosciutto and figs ($18); crispy polenta with gorgonzola ($10); tuna meatballs with a red sauce ($15) and veal scotata with rocket and parmesan ($15).

As for the mains there was maltagliata pasta with prawns and pistachio pesto ($24); rigatoni alla norma ($19); spaghetti pesto acilaoano ($19); veal braciole ($20); veal cotoletta pravarera ($23); and salmon lemon butter cream ($24).

I must admit I was surprised by the prices on the menu – they seemed too good to be true – and I was sceptical as to what would come out. I was also a bit confused seeing three pasta dishes as secondi (traditionally a first course dish).

We decided to start by sharing two plates of the crispy calamari, prawn and zucchini ($18), and a plate of the prosciutto and figs ($18).

The seafood came out on a white plate and sat atop brown paper with two large wedges of lemon. It was a pile of golden and perfectly fried mix of school prawns, calamari and baby julienned zucchini. The calamari was delicate and soft and the prawns were small and crispy enough to eat head and all – perfectly cooked to retain their juices and sweetness. The addition of baby zucchini was appreciated as the vegetable’s slight acidity and moisture helped to refresh the palate from being to overly dominate the fried seafood.

There is always something delectable about the combination of figs and prosciutto and figs are something I always order in an Italian restaurant when they are in season. You see, Italians respect them and treat them well (probably better than their spouses). Fabio must love his figs – the ones he chose were perfect – not a blemish on them. The prosciutto and figs were three whole fresh and juicy figs which had been almost quartered and topped with large, thin slices of that wonderful cured pig that we had as an appetiser but twirled and arranged in such a way to resemble a pink water-lily. The dish was also a perfect accompaniment to the Abruzzo Masciarelli Trebbiano we were enjoying at the time. I wished I didn’t have to share them.

For main I had the veal cotoletta primavera ($23) a huge piece of veal on the bone that had been lightly crumbed and fried and dressed with ripe baby tomatoes and rocket tossed in virgin olive oil. Cotoletta is to what schnitzel is to Italy’s alpine neighbours the difference being that the Italians keep the bone on the cutlet, it is bigger and fatter, and the cut is usually from a better part of the animal. The cutlet seemed grilled rather than fried (sticking to Sicilian practice), the crumbs golden and light with the wonderful fresh mixture of greens and ripe tomatoes enhancing this simple, yet filling and traditional, dish.

My mate opposite me ordered veal braciole ($20) which was skewered cut veal dusted in a parmesan crust.

The remaining four diners had maltagliata prawn ($24) – a pasta dish.

We could have ordered a typical Italian salad to accompany the mains such as an orange, fennel and rocket ($8).

Unexpectedly our waiter brought out two of La Vucciria’s deserts to share courtesy of Fabio – grilled peaches topped with a ricotta cream and a slice of rich chocolate almond cake (both $9). We must have been a very behaved group (or this was a continuation of La Vucciria’s excellent hospitality that we had been enjoying).

The bill arrived with an assortment of lollies for a huge bowl on the bar – a fitting end to such a sweet night.

Apparently La Vucciria has an ‘Aperitivo’ session where small plates of food accompany cocktails, wine and beer (including ‘na Biretta, an Italian beer from a brewery in Fiumicino near Rome), between 5pm and 7pm.

The verdict: The décor may be hard for my eyes but as for the food my palate will never tire. Generosity, an interesting décor, top-notch service and well-priced and simple tasty Sicilian dishes make La Vucciria one of those trattoria’s that you wished that you had around the corner from your place.

What: La Vucciria, 160 Flinders Street, Paddington NSW Australia. Open for dinner only from Tuesday to Sunday. Phone (02) 8068 – 5598.

Ate there: 3 February 2012.

For a nice article on Palermo’s La Vucciria market go to this piece by the New York Times.

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HuTong Dumpling Bar

MELBOURNE is full of hidden gems and is home to contain the city’s small bars, cocktail lounges and restaurants – the grooviest and funkiest of which are usually tucked away or hidden in the city’s alleys or atop CBD buildings (believe or not there’s even an igloo room hidden in a groovy Fitzroy pub).

So it was with some sense of satisfaction that I wandered down one particular laneway in Melbourne’s Chinatown and to a place named HuTong (Mandarin for ‘alley’).

HuTong Dumpling Bar has received some hype over the past year for its dumplings – especially its xiao long bao.

I consider myself a bit of a xiao long bao zealot. I tend to survive on these wonderful “soup dumplings” when in Taipei and the only reason I don’t come back looking like one is because I am saved by trudging up and down Taiwan’s beautiful mountain scenery. They are down right comfort food and if prepared properly are delectable and addictive.

I arrived just as HuTong was opening (11.30am) and already the place was starting to fill up. Without a booking i was ushered upstairs. This narrow restaurant is over three levels, downstairs one can watch the dumpling makers roll, fill and form their dumplings (a visual concept the famous Taipei restaurant, Din Tai Fung, has exported), the second level is another dining level while on the third floor are private dining rooms. The interior combines earthy tones and exposed brick walls with traditional Chinese dark wooden tables. There are photographs of Chinese street scenes on the walls. I assume that the decor is meant to resemble an old, back-alley teahouse.

The menu isn’t just all dumplings – there is a variety of appetisers or snacks (like squid in salt and pepper or spring onion pancake), and larger meals (such as Szchzuan bean curd with minced pork or double-cooked sliced pork with chilli), but the go are the dumplings and there is a selection of mainly six to choose from.

As I was there for brunch I ordered only two dishes: the xiao long bao and the steamed garlic chive and minced prawn dumplings.

There is a ritual (or an art) to eating xiao long bao as they’re not the kind of dumpling that you put wholly into your mouth as the scorching liquid inside will scald your mouth. So as not to embarrass you in front of your guests when eating xiao long bao (swallowing scolding liquid will always lead to tears), firstly pour some vinegar to the shredded ginger (which will accompany them), and carefully pick up the xiao long bao by the ‘nipple’ with chopsticks without breaking the skin. Then gently dip it into the ginger-infused vinegar sauce and place it on to the spoon. Nibble the side (or nipple if you dare!) of the xiao long bao and suck the soup out. Add more ginger and vinegar or even chilli oil to the dumpling and gobble away.

The xiao long bao (8 for $11.80) at HuTong were perfectly formed and finely folded thin pearl-coloured parcels containing a nectar of the Gods. The silky skins were light and thin and filled with a tasty broth exploding into the mouth followed by a not-too-richly seasoned minced pork filling. They were good – better than most but when compared with those from the famous Din Tai Fung (which I consider as the xiao long bao benchmark), lacked a certain wow factor to be considered great.

I also had a bamboo steamer of garlic chive and minced prawn dumplings ($8), four crescent-shaped, translucent and plump dumplings. I think I could have ordered better, the skin was a tad too thick and glutinous and the filling combination seemed a bit uninspiring. Of course, unlike with xiao long bao, you can pop these straight into your mouth.

There seemed to be people in the know as most other tables not only had the xiao long bao but also what turned out to be won tons in hot chili sauce ($8.80). These were beautiful looking golden parcels swimming in a bright red chili sauce. A dish that looked (and smelt), divine.

The service at HuTong seems a bit harried (and without a smile), and a downer is that it charges $3 per head for tea – a bit cheeky considering dumplings are synonymous with tea.

The verdict: The xiao long bao are worth coming for if that is only why you go.

What: HuTong Dumpling Bar, 14-16 Market Lane, Melbourne, VIC 3000 Australia. Phone (03) 9650-81280. Open: Daily from 11.30am to 3pm, Sunday to Thursday from 5.30pm to 10.30pm and Friday to-Saturday from 5.30pm to 11.30pm.

Ate there: 29 December 2011.

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Bowral Country Hot Bread

I GO through pie crazes. I like a decent one. But pies can also be my downfall. A SCUBA diving buddy always questions me if I have difficulty getting into my wet suit by asking: “Eating too many pies?” My response is usually the non-verbal kind.

I also love making pies (and pasties) during winter (orders come in thick and fast from mates for my signature pepper and thyme beef pie with a short crust base and puff pastry lid). I’m not a pie-making master but I know what I like, how it should be constructed and when I am paying too much for a mediocre one.

Enter Bowral Country Hot Bread in New South Wales’ Southern Highlands. As the name suggests it’s a “hot bread” shop – a term used by most Vietnamese-Australian bakers. The bakery has a selection of breads, rolls, bread sticks and cakes and biscuits (nothing out of the ordinary) but, unlike most bakeries in the town and in the area (who proudly display awards and commendations), offer what I consider to be the best value-for-money pies in the Southern Highlands (with quality and prices that would rival most bakeries in NSW).

Bowral Country Hot Bread doesn’t offer fancy pies with gourmet fillings – the fanciest would probably be the steak and kidney. Pies are between $2.50 and $3 and there is a variety to choose such as steak; steak and mushroom; steak and onion; pepper steak; and a pretty damn good beef, bacon and cheese.

I’m not going to intricately break down every pie I have had from Bowral Country Hot Bread but the beef that is used is ground – not minced and I have never found one skerrick of gristle in them. The steak pie is full of chunks of tender gravy beef (it seems the ground beef is used for the combination fillings). The steak and mushroom pie has quartered or halved button mushrooms depending on the mushroom’s original size (not a couple of slivers of sliced mushrooms), and the gravy used for most of the pies is rich and dark and nicely seasoned with a bit more pepper than the usual bakery pie. Fillings are also generous, so much so that the only criticism is that the pie tends to sag at the base from the weight. The pastry is slightly buttery with a flaky lid.

Possibly the one pie that I crave is the beef, bacon and cheese. This sinful pie has ground beef mixed with bacon cubes and melted cheese – all integrating into a smoky and cheesy cholesterol-laden sticky puddle. Great for breakfast but bad for neoprene.

Yes, it’s just a small country bakery in New South Wales’ Southern Highlands but it should be commended because this family-run bakery offers well-made and filling pies at considerably lower prices than its surrounding competitors, and, they’re even open on public holidays (and don’t hit you for a holiday surcharge).

The verdict: Bowral Country Hot Bread is a little gem and proves that you can make a damn good pie and sell it at a decent price – city and country bakers should take note. Nothing fancy – just generous.

What: Bowral Country Hot Bread, 1 Wingecarribee Street, Bowral NSW, Australia. Phone (02) 4862-1225. Open seven days.

Ate there: 1 – 3 October 2011 (and I can still fit into my wet suit).

Posted in Bakery, New South Wales | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments