A review of McDonald’s new Create Your Taste burgers!
By now, you’ve seen or heard it all – TV ads, radio spots, even the MasterChef AU sponsorship. McDonald’s has always been at the forefront of the food scene, even as they’re the most commoditised name in the food industry, and constantly taking the most flak for being the “option of last resort” when it comes to eating out. Honestly, even though I haven’t visited a McDonald’s willingly for some time, I admire the effort – I would have shut my doors ages ago were it my business, that’s for sure.
Even when the Create Your Taste campaign came along, I wasn’t particularly sold. To be sure, I like Maccas, and I know a lot of food enthusiasts do too. However, I never found the food to be “worth visiting” in light of Sydney’s food panacea. But you know what? I can’t judge if I haven’t tried, right? And so, for the first time, I find myself creating a burger to call my very own.
Date Last Visited: 25/7/15 Store Sampled: McDonald’s Menai – Cnr Allison Crescent & McMahon Place, Menai NSW 2234 (https://mcdonalds.com.au/store/menai-nsw)
McDonald’s is incredibly easy to bash, to an almost comic degree. On the one hand, I feel much of this stigma is unfair, as often it’s a small percentage of underperforming stores spoiling it for a vast network of otherwise well-run branches. On the other hand, it could be the reason why the golden arches innovates at a relentless pace. One has to wonder if something like the Create Your Taste offering would ever have come into existence, had Maccas not been forced to cater for the evolution of the sophisticated palate.
It’s been a long time Maccas, good to be back
You probably already know that CYT is all about constructing your own burger from a selection of ingredients – buns, cheeses, vegetables, and condiments. All in all, there are thirty options to choose from – I will walk you through them shortly in pictures.
This is a serious level of variety, one which should make any burger lover rejoice – no more debates about whether beetroot belongs in a burger or not, no more faff on whether brioche or a white sesame seed bun is king.
For the first time, you can grab a group of your mates to visit the same restaurant – regardless of their peculiar preferences on what makes a good burger. Chances are, Maccas will have everyone covered to some extent.
The ordering Kiosks at McDonald’s Menai. They are all like this for consistency.
One glaring problem: you only get one choice of patty – angus beef. Sure, I wasn’t expecting Blackmore wagyu, but no chicken? No fish? Burgers with those patties exist on the menu, so it shouldn’t be too much of a stretch to include these.
Thing is, Maccas already know this – a chicken patty is on its way, slated for release in November. More options (fish/pulled pork) are down the line. Stay tuned!
The Menai store interior. This is a big Maccas – the entire restaurant is easily 6-8x what you see in the photo.
But there’s a lingering question: gourmet in taste, or poorly made – a waste?
To find out, I drive out to McDonald’s Menai. Initially, they trialled CYT at the Castle Hill McDonald’s only. That was way too far for me, so I held off. Now, Create Your Taste is offered at many McDonald’s stores, just click here to find the one closest to you.
Keeping in mind that CYT is all about creating a burger that’s suited to your palate. In this spirit, I ordered a burger I dub the McHungry. No compromises will be made – I know my palate, I know what I like in a burger. Let’s see how well Maccas can realise my vision.
You got them buns, hun?
The first selection screen relates to buns. For now, you get three options, though the lettuce ‘bun’ doesn’t exist in my eyes. What, trying to call your salad a burger? Please.
Chicken patties to come in November! Salads & even DESSERTS are in the works!
For now, you have two choices – angus beef, or nothing. I suppose I’ve never tried a cheese-only burger before…that’s why margherita pizzas exist, right?
But no, I’m actually sane today – two patties please! I know McDonald’s patties are on the thin side, so two is a must.
Hmmm…bacon, or bacon? I know – bacon!
The choice of cheeses is actually before this screen but I didn’t take a photo. I ended up choosing a triumvirate of Colby Jack cheese, McDonald’s Classic cheese & Shaved Parmesan cheese.
When it comes to the toppings, I keep things simple – just one serve of crispy bacon and guac will do. I don’t usually get guac in burgers, but I decided to be just a little bit experimental. What’s life without it?
Time to pretend I’m clean eating with one lettuce leaf
Now come toppings. I do actually like a pretty burger, and the crunch of lettuce is something I’m very partial to. As such, it makes the list!
Yes, the restaurant does get cases of people standing at the kiosks with shocked faces – the dilemma of choice.
It took me awhile to decide what sauces to get, but in the end, as I am at a Maccas after all, I opt for the Big Mac sauce, but also decided to spice things up with some chipotle mayo.
The full ingredients list, with my rationalisations:
Brioche-style Bun – while hated on by many a burger purist, I find a good brioche makes for a tastier bun than a standard baker’s bun. Brioche’s fluffiness and buttery sweetness is a delight to my senses, complementing, rather than overwhelming the rest of the burger. To qualify the statement: brioche-style bread is much more akin to Asian-style bread. We grew up eating fluffy, slightly sweet bread, so brioche is right up our alley.
Big Mac® Special Sauce – it is McDonald’s after all, I just had to include some of the special stuff. I used to dip chips in it! And honest to the burger gods, I have never met a person that dislikes Big Mac sauce.
Chipotle Mayo – for something a little different, the inclination to try something new, and I’m a natural fire-breather.
Guacamole – if I’m creating my own burger, I’m going to throw at least one wildcard in.
Red Onion – crunch crunch, all about the texture – and I love onion!
Whole Leaf Lettuce – even as I’m eating a double patty burger, I pretend to diet, heh.
McDonald’s Classic Cheese – a Maccas classic, it sure has a nostalgic flavour
Colby Jack Cheese – one of the best cheeses available for a burger, period.
Shaved Parmesan Cheese – Maccas provides for a 3rd type of cheese and I got greedy. Plus, a flavour kick from parmesan should be pretty epic.
113g Angus Patty ×2 – a single? Too little. Triple? Too much. A double? Just right. Double patty burgers are well-represented on my Instagram feed, so this shall be no exception.
Crispy Bacon – a burger without bacon is missing that X-factor. Its name is bacon. Also, “bacon crunch” cannot be replicated
Caramelised Grilled Onions – I did say I loved onions, right?
Here it is, in all its glory:
The McHungry – $13
Holy fr*cking moly, is this a McDonald’s burger?
The first thing my friend and I remarked when we saw these arrive on our table was “if you weren’t told this is a McDonald’s burger, you’re not going to think that it’s from a McDonald’s”.
Yes, this is a burger from McDonald’s, and it is probably one of the most well-built burgers I’ve ever laid eyes on. Let that sink in. Take a guess at how it tasted. Hint: it’s really delicious.
You know why? Because this is the McHungry.
And that is the ultimate appeal of CYT. If you know your palate like the back of your hand (and in my case, I know mine better), then you know what pushes your buttons. Chances are, Maccas can cater to that, so it’s much, much less likely you’ll receive something that surprises you in a negative way.
In the case of my burger, it all starts with the brioche. A warm, fluffy and sweet pair of pillows envelop the ingredients within. The buns come surprisingly thin, which actually turned out to be quite beneficial, as I won’t be overwhelmed with its sugar content. The lettuce is evidently fresh, and with a good crunch to boot. The raw onion serves as a crunch backup to the lettuce when the burger inevitably gets heavy – but of course I knew that, as I picked it 😉
I did probably go overboard with the choice of three cheeses, but remarkably, I was able to taste all three of them, in particular the parmesan. That was a great decision on my part, as it really kicked the umami profile of the burger up a notch. Next time, I might just go for double cheddar with a dash of parmesan. One downside? The cheese hasn’t been allowed to melt through some more. There are two camps here – the type that prefers cheese to come intact (unmelted), and the type that prefers it all gooey. I’m of the latter camp, so I would have preferred the cheese to be much runnier.
While I can’t vouch for construction consistency across stores, I can say this is the best build I’ve ever received.
The guac? Experiment failed – I could taste avo and its associated creaminess, but ultimately it added more “slick” to the burger than I would have liked. My bad! Easily removed next time. The sauces on the other hand? Totally on point – Big Mac sauce still doesn’t disappoint, and I could drink chipotle mayo straight from a bottle.
The crispy bacon? Definitely necessary. A really meaty burger needs a textural foil (that isn’t vegetable-based) at every bite, and that is provided by the bacon. It also adds its own porcine flavour profile to an otherwise dominantly beefy taste, which is most welcome.
Finally, we come to the beef patty itself. This is probably the weakest point, but it’s not anything McDonald’s can fix as it’s their “style”. The problem lies with me. For you see, I like my beef patties thick, pub-style. That way, they can be cooked medium-rare, for a really beefy profile which is what my palate prefers. That said, McDonald’s thin-style patties are still quite tasty, and I definitely wasn’t bouncing off the walls complaining about it. You know what you’re coming for, so set your expectations accordingly.
I went into great detail describing the burger because this is my burger. Yes, I shouldn’t have went with the guac, the cheese could be melted more, but most elements were exactly as I expected, and as such, I knew I was in for a good experience. What I didn’t expect is how well McDonald’s executed my vision. I am a very happy man. Never has Maccas been better.
Another solidly-executed vision
I didn’t try my friend’s CYT, but here it is in all its glory. The ingredients list, for those who are wondering, is below:
My friend’s HK-style burger
Very different! Yet, he loved his as much as I loved mine. I’m airing an obvious thought everyone should already entertain – this shows that nobody – and I mean nobody can ever dictate the “best” or “correct” way to do a burger.
Take away the CYT and McDonald’s branding. Put these burgers into a gourmet burger store. Ask your heart – could you tell the difference? Patty thickness notwithstanding.
…and that’s it. For what you get, CYT is nothing short of impressive. Haters? Sorry, I can’t hear you – I’m too busy having fun demolishing McHungry’s.
And now for something not quite burger related…
There’s so much more in here than meets the eye
You ever had a McFlurry that has everything in it? Me neither.
IT’S EVERYTHING
And now I have. This is the Oreo, Kit Kat, M&M’s & Crunchie McFlurry flavours all mixed into one McFlurry.
Have you ever eaten a rainbow? This is what it feels like.
EATING RAINBOWS
I honestly don’t know how I managed to finish it – I learned a new definition of the term “food coma” afterwards.
Ok, in the end, what are we to make of all this? There’s two ways to go about it.
The Stigmatist
The cynics, the ones who claim it’s their way or the highway. The ones who will never get over the stigma of Maccas or fast food restaurants in general.
It’s their loss. That’s all I deign to say.
It’s All About The Food
“Does it taste good?” – this is the question that matters.
As long as the food is cleanly made (hygiene), and not thrown in my face (reasonable service), the only question is that of taste. Does McDonald’s fit that bill? With Create Your Taste, it certainly does. Let’s not forget that McDonald’s hygiene standards are incredible.
It would take someone with a tragically limited palate to be unable to construct a burger that would at least be halfway decent.
In my case? The McHungry may not be the best burger I’ve ever had, but it’s one I can call my own. However let me put my money where my burgers go: does it taste good?
You bet it does.
Shoot through any and all thoughts you have in the comments below! And if you feel like creating your own version of the McHungry, head to https://perfectmatch.mcdonalds.com.au/ for your chance to win some awesome prizes!
The Good:
McDonald’s takes one more step towards shaking off its fast food stigma – a fantastic trend I’d love to see continue.
The ability to tailor a burger to your personal palate is the best thing that McDonald’s has ever done.
I created this burger. I own this burger. It is delicious.
The Bad:
With a cornucopia of fantastic burger options in Sydney, the appeal of CYT may not be a “game changer” as much as it will be simply another talking point. This can change if quality is maintained and more variety introduced.
It’s still a fast food restaurant. Artisan/luxe ingredients are not on the menu and should not be expected…at least, so far.
The cheese & patty do leave something to be desired. Melted cheese is more flavoursome than unmelted. Melt your cheese more and this nitpick is gone!
The Ugly:
The fast food stigma will be the ugliest battle Create Your Taste has to face.
Folks, it’s that time of the year again. It’s time to get your slurp on for Sydney Good Food Month’s highlight event!
Although, if you’ve read my coverage on 2014 & 2013‘s iterations on the Sydney Night Noodle Markets, you’ll quickly pick up the irony at how few noodle dishes I actually consumed. Thing is, the NNM is all about three things: atmosphere (company), variety, and last but just as important – novelty. With that in mind, my coverage will try and cover primarily whacky/must-try dishes that may not be easily obtained elsewhere.
Naturally, I will still pay lip service to a few old favourites – nothing wrong with a little bit familiar comfort! Now, let’s get reporting – your unofficial but hopefully super-comprehensive guide to the Night Noodle Markets – to be frequently updated!
Date Last Visited: 17/10/15 Address: Hyde Park, Sydney Recommended Dishes: see post for highlights
To navigate, I have provided a table of contents with the stalls I’ve visited. You can always jump back up using the “Back to Top” link at the bottom of each entry. Every time I make an update, the new content will be shown in green text, with previous green text demoted to standard black text – hope that helps!
On recommendations: most dishes in this post are of the “try at least once” kind. If I truly think a dish isn’t even worth trying for the first time, I’ll be sure to note it!
Pro-tips
Arrive early. Seriously – if daylight’s running out, then so will seating.
Bring/take LOTS of serviettes – whatever you think you’ll need, take triple!
Bring hand sanitizer – it will be invaluable.
No BYO – bags are checked!
In a group? Split the effort – every man and woman to a stall, and meet back in the middle.
It’s everybody’s favourite Korean taco joint! This is the third year Poklol’s run a stall at the Night Noodle Markets, so you know that they’re doing well. Their signature has always been the Korean tacos, featuring a base of kimchi slaw, topped with meats of your choice. Of course, you can also go meat free all the same. While I knew what to expect, I couldn’t resist – so for the third time in a year also, I bring myself down to treat myself.
Poklol Korean tacos – bulgogi beef, chicken & vegetarian ($20 for 3)
As usual, Poklol’s tacos are on point. My favourite still goes to the bulgogi beef. Juicy, sweet sauce-marinated beef coupled with spicy mayo and spicy kimchi is a hard combination to top. The chicken is also quite nice, but relative to the exciting beef? It doesn’t stand a chance.
One downside about Poklol’s tacos is that they’re really juicy. Chances are, you won’t be able to eat them without some spillage, especially the beef taco. Prepare yourself for this – lest you intend to give your pants a saucy paint job!
Bao Stop (ft Miss Dippity’s Desserts)
Remember Mr Bao? They’re great, but it’s abao-t time someone brings on some competition. That’s where Bao Stop comes in – another gua bao vendor on the other side of the markets. I suppose the trek to the other side of Hyde Park is so arduous, you just might want a second bao fix by the time you make it there. If that’s your reason, I forgive you.
Because both bao stalls are delicious.
Whoops, I forgot to take a picture of the Bao Stop stall. It’s directly to the right of the Miss Dippity’s stall!
The funny thing is, both Mr Bao and Bao Stop serve gua bao in the same structure – 1 for $7.5, or 3 for $20. Further, the choice of filling are almost exactly the same:
Bao Stop vs Mr Bao | Pork belly vs crackling pork belly | Fried chicken vs fried chicken | Fried tofu vs fried tofu
But Bao Stop has one up on its gentlemanly companion – the existence of a Peking duck filling. To add insult, Bao Stop sports killer fries known as Peking duck fries. Yes, that is exactly what it sounds like. Boom, the heat’s on now, because Bao Stop’s in the lead. Let’s check it out.
Bottom left – Peking duck fries ($12?), bottom right – triple bao (pork belly, peking duck, fried chicken – 3 for $20). Above: Ramen Zundo’s ramen roll
Bao Stop will stop you in your tracks, because these are seriously delectable hits of flavour you don’t want to miss. Fluffy & warm white buns are the staple all around, and while they are smaller than Mr Bao, are completely on par with flavour and bouncy texture. I really enjoyed the pork belly filling in particular, as it’s all soft, chewy and flavoursome meat. Also kudos should be given to the Peking duck bao, as the hoisin sauce that’s included is all sorts of flavour that’s a delicious assault on the senses. Sweet, sour, savoury, ducky. I suspect the Peking duck bao will be the favourite of many.
You know the bao is good when fried chicken bao is actually the least interesting pick, but that’s not to say it’s bad – it’s just overshadowed by its very well-executed porcine & winged brethren. You know where I’m getting at, right? GET ALL THREE.
Just give in and lick your screen already
Balanced-view disclaimer – while the pork belly seen in the picture above looks to be an incredibly generous slab, a friend who ordered the pork belly bao that same day got a much smaller piece, fitting easily within the folds of one bao. I’m not a fan of inconsistency, so keep note!
But, but, I didn’t even talk about those Peking duck fries! Yeah let’s do that, or let’s not – because I’m too busy eating them. Seriously, they’re really good – if you’re into Peking duck and Peking duck sauce. Imagine that stuff slathered all over your piping hot fries. It’s gorgeous. I’ll just say that this dish should be shared, because it’s a fair bit fatty and the portion size is generous.
Sweet potato fries ($8)
If Peking duck fries aren’t your thing (is that possible?), then Bao Stop has one last ace up its sleeve – sweet potato fries. As a bonus, these are vegetarian-friendly, so really, you’re running out of excuses.
Why would you even need one? These sweet potato fries are the best sweet potato fries of the markets – and I’m not just saying that because they’re the only ones :P. They’re fluffy on the inside, crunchy on the outside, and of course – taste like sweet potato as well. I almost didn’t need the mayo, the chips carry enough flavour by themselves. That said, I appreciate how the mayo addresses a bit of dryness in the chips.
For only $8, these are a steal for Night Noodle Markets standards.
XO fried chicken ($15)
For those who might want to be more protein-focused, Bao Stop won’t disappoint – why not give the XO fried chicken a go? I had an entire box of this to myself on Monday, and I regret none of it. Huge (and I mean seriously big) chunks of chicken are deep fried and dressed with glazy, sweet & saucy XO, without removing the crunch of the chicken skin but delivering 100% on the flavour. Similar to the Peking duck fries, this should be shared, but like I demonstrated – nothing wrong with indulging in yourself every now and then, right?
Boy, that sure is a lot of savoury stuff. Wouldn’t it be nice if, you know, Bao Stop did a dessert? Well, Miss Dippity’s (a dessert parlour in Chatswood’s District Food Court) is right next door, and the two stalls might just have a little something something for you…
Bao stop x Miss Dippity’s – deep fried Bao Stop bao, miso caramel soft serve w/chocolate sauce & crumble ($12)
For an unspecified limited time only, Bao Stop and Miss Dippity’s, due to their proximity to each other, are doing a collaboration dessert – the miso caramel soft serve bao. This is exactly what it looks like – Bao Stop’s gua bao given the deep-fry treatment, topped with a most charitable serving of miso caramel gelato, chocolate sauce, and nut crumble.
Let’s just say that this dessert combination gives Messina’s dessert bao a run for their money. The bao is crunchy but not heavy, and still fluffy on the inside. The soft serve is creamy, full of caramel, and a tinge of savoury miso in aftertaste that prevents the whole thing from becoming too sweet. The addition of chocolate & nuts are bonuses that are always enjoyed. Bring it on, folks – bring it on!
It was a given – nay – it was DESTINY that would eventually see myself visiting the Black Star Pastry x N2 Extreme Gelato stall. My only surprise is that I didn’t do it sooner. Thing is, with two iconic names teaming up like this, it would be selfish not to share the love. Plus, given that the queues build up before the Night Noodle Markets even open, it’s not too far of a stretch to say that it’s a challenge just getting yourself a slice of the action.
Heh.
Get your gelato/cake/ramen right here!
We got there a few minutes before opening time. Sure, we waited for them to actually start service, but when they do it’s very quick and efficient – a docket is served pretty much every 20 seconds or so. Don’t be put off by the line – it moves faster than you’d think!
So what do you get for all your efforts? Try this on for size:
The combo, from left to right: (1) Brokeback Moment – vanilla gelato w/honeycomb, choc-topped & salted caramel sauce -$8. (2) Teafogato – strawberry watermelon cake smashed with N2 gelato & hibiscus rooibos tea & freeze-dried cherries – $8. (3) Strawberry watermelon cake – the one and only – $10.
BSPxN2 serve three separate desserts, or you can do it right (also known as the I’m Still Hungry way) and just get all three as a combo for $25.
On the left, it’s a pure N2 creation. On the right, Black Star’s 100% original, one-and-only cake. The middle is where things get funky – it’s what you get if you put the cake and the gelato in a room, turn off the lights and walk away.
Honestly, I’m not even sure what I’m visualising. ANYWHO, MOVING ALONG HERE…
When in doubt, get it all!
Let’s start with the lovechild of BSPxN2 – the teafogato. This is definitely the strangest dessert of the three – and it really is a combination of Black Star’s strawberry watermelon cake and N2’s nitrogen gelato. The teafogato is actually still smoking with liquid nitrogen when it arrives, though that dissipates very quickly (hence no photo).
In terms of taste, it’s essentially a scoop of tea-infused vanilla gelato in a pool of rosewater, cake bits and crunchy freeze-dried cherries. The aroma of rosewater is strong, courtesy of the BSP heritage, while the gelato is smooth and creamy – thanks to N2’s flash gelato-making process. Some people have commented that the teafogato almost tastes like soap, and I have to say while I didn’t think this to be the case when eating the dessert, it’s definitely more “soapy” when drinking it. Best to not let this one melt – take your photos quickly!
Overall, I liked the dessert despite its strangeness, it’s definitely worth a try. However, if you’re not into (un)holy unions, you’re not out of options:
A damn fine vanilla gelato
Why not give N2’s classic vanilla gelato a try? It’s delicious, especially for what is supposedly just a vanilla gelato. That N2’s texture is just fantastically creamy is a bonus. The pipette of salted caramel sauce adds an extra burnt sugariness to it that I’ve never found to be unwelcome – it’s just a nice gelato which should amply satisfy a sweet craving in these crowded markets. Not a must-order, but you could do much, much worse when it comes to the sweet stakes at NNM.
You know exactly why this is the one and only
As for Black Star’s strawberry & watermelon cake…need I say more?
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think it’s “the best cake I’ve ever had”, but it is a great slice nonetheless, and regardless of what this pleb thinks of it, it’s undeniable that its icon status is well and truly established in the Sydney foodie psyche. For that reason alone, it is worth trying if you’ve never had it.
Heck, still a pretty darn good cake – I’m glad I had it again, as it’s been over a year since my last time. Welcome back to my stomach – and to yours too, hopefully!
Being right next to Black Star x N2, Ramen Zundo gets to bask in a huge amount of “in-line” publicity as queue-mongers wait their gelato/strawberry watermelon cake. To this end, their special contribution to the Night Noodle Markets (other than a standard menu of stir-fried ramen, karaage chicken & tofu) is the ramen roll.
With the advent of ramen burgers and ramen tacos, is anyone actually serving normal ramen these days? Apparently not so at the Night Noodle Markets, that’s for sure!
The Ramen roll w/karaage chicken filling ($12)
To Ramen Zundo’s credit, they are trying to be different, and a hot dog isn’t too bad of a place to start. Unfortunately, the problem with doing a ramen roll is that it’s carbs encasing carbs – it doesn’t work all that well. The bread’s fluffiness gets caught up in the ramen noodles, and without a whole lot of protein to back it up (there are literally only three medium-sized pieces of karaage chicken in the entire roll), the texture balance is all off. Not even drizzles of mayo can save it.
I’d give this one a pass, there are plenty of other things to eat. Shame, as Ramen Zundo’s restaurant actually serves incredibly tasty ramen. Back to their restaurant then!
Devon Cafe
It only took three visits, but I finally managed to visit a stall that’s been on my hit list since the beginning – Devon Cafe. I’m no stranger to Zacharay Tan’s Asian-inspired creations, having visited the Surry Hills & Waterloolocations more than I care to count.
Only natural then to check out their Night Noodle Markets stall, no?
Devon’s stall focuses primarily on dishes that the night service at Devon on Danks serves. Think hearty stuff, full of flavour and texture. For example, take the nasi lemak:
Nasi lemak with blue pea flower jasmine rice and pickled veg
This is full on, and proves that Devon isn’t just another café that’s trying to put an Asian spin on its food. Rather, it’s the other way around! A rather unique aspect of Devon’s Nasi Lemak is the blue pea flower jasmine rice – it is indeed a subtle blue colour, more for looks than for taste. That said, it’s a well-cooked rice, and serves to soak up the fragrant curry in delicious fashion.
The standout components for me were the anchovies – a delectable crunch, as well as the pickled vegetables – yes once again, that crunch. Really though, the whole dish is quite nice, and I’d be happy eating this as a standalone meal anywhere else.
Crispy Belacan chicken wings
Chicken wings, when made well, are always a crowd favourite. Devon’s Crispy Belacan-style chicken wings twist things up a little with a prawn-based flavouring, which I quite enjoyed and is definitely a far cry from most other fried chicken recipes out there. The meat is juicy (score! This is so rare), and the skin a peculiar kind of crispy that is somehow still gelatinously chewy. I can’t say it’s my preferred way to eat skin (super crunchy is still where it’s at), but again, these wings are all about flying you to somewhere different.
Like the nasi lemak, also worth getting!
Devon Cronnie – pork floss flavour
One of Devon’s stalwart pastries is their cronuts – err – I mean cronnies (them trademarks tut tut). I’m personally not a fan of them as they are bursting with oil in every bite, and the pork floss cronut is no exception. Pure, unadulterated slick, which I may have withstood five years ago, but now is actually a little sickening. I’m sorry Devon, it’s just not my style – one cronut is over 800 calories, and yes I’m going to go there – this isn’t worth them.
The flavour is also very salty, but to its credit – definitely tastes of savoury pork floss. If it weren’t for the oil, I’d have enjoyed it far, far more.
I would say that these are not worth trying, unless you’ve never had them before and want to experience a rather unique pastry (they have plenty of sweet options too!)
But you know what? Hope is not lost – Devon’s got one dessert that is hands down absolute win:
Miso Corny: miso and sweetcorn soft serve, coriander and lime syrup, adzuki beans, burnt butter popcorn and corn flakes ($12)
If the cronnies are a segue into oily oblivion, their miso & sweetcorn soft serve is what truly makes miso happy. This is a fantastic sundae, and having tried multiple previous flavours at the Danks location, I can say it’s one of the best they’ve ever made. None of us could readily taste the miso in the soft serve (it’s reallll subtle), but the corn was evident – a sweet, savoury-tinged vegetal flavour that pairs well with the creaminess of the soft serve. Oh yes, that stuff is creamy, and we love it for that fact.
For once, something green that isn’t matcha!
Additional texture is added in the form of burnt butter popcorn and of course – you saw this coming – corn flakes. The crunchiness these elements add is most welcome. Further, as any lover of adzuki (red bean) will tell you, it pretty much goes with any dessert, so bring it on!
The only element I wasn’t sure of was the lime & coriander syrup. I didn’t really get to have much of it, but I wonder about the reason behind this particular matching.
But you know what? That doesn’t matter. This soft serve is legit, and probably one of the best desserts at the Night Noodle Markets. Make sure to order it as a sundae and not a soft serve if you want all the extra trimmings.
Mrs Mi
Ever wanted a robot make your noodles for you? No? Well too bad – they’re the future, and Mrs. Mi is leading the charge.
Sorry for the closeup – I couldn’t stand back far enough!
This Northern Chinese-style stall serves up various Chinese dishes such as dumplings, Taiwanese-style fried chicken, shallot pancakes, and a signature noodle dish known as 刀削面 (dao xiao mian) – literally translated as “knife cut/shaved noodles”. Traditionally, this is done by hand, and the better the chef is at doing this, the tastier the end result. Skill makes a huge difference. Thing is, what’s it like when your chef looks like this?
Demo robot outside the stall – don’t worry, it doesn’t have legs so it won’t come chasing
Oh, I guess it doesn’t have legs.
Or a soul, I suppose. But one thing these robots supposedly do well, and with incredible speed is shaving noodles in a remarkably consistent fashion. Unfortunately, in my time at the stall, I never did get to see it in action, but these robots can process hundreds of kilos of dough into noodles in a mere fraction of the time humans can – you’d expect then that the service would be very quick.
The functional robot inside the stall
And yes, you would be right. I got a steaming bowl of noodles in less than two minutes of waiting, and that’s with 4-5 orders in front of me. The only real amount of time required is actually cooking the noodles – a process that can’t be expedited with a pair of mechanical hands.
Thing is, the devil’s in the details – and the details are all in taste. Let’s taste.
Pork mince noodles (炸酱面) – $10
Mrs. Mi’s 刀削面 comes in the form of 炸酱面 which is a Shandong-province specialty. The key feature is the aforementioned knife-cut noodles, along with a braised pork mince sauce which one could describe as an Asian beef bolognese sauce (spiciness optional). Often, the dish comes topped with julienned cucumber and pickled vegetables. It’s meant to be fragrant, it’s porky and it’s tasty.
I feel that Mrs. Mi could have been a little more generous with the 炸酱 – the pork mince sauce. This is what brings 95% of the flavour, so it’s critical that there needs to be enough of the stuff. While there was a fair bit, the sheer volume of noodles we got (this was a heavy bowl) meant that more mince sauce could have been included.
The lift. Iz good.
But the key test – how are the noodles? Unfortunately, they’re quite doughy and chewy. I prefer my noodles a bit more clearly-defined in terms of texture, and Mrs. Mi’s felt like they might have been overcooked to the point where the gluten was breaking down, or the dough rose/developed too much in the rising phase. In either case, the robots did their job – they sure are consistent.
More meat sauce and slightly more defined noodles would make this a killer dish.
It’s still worth a try, but hopefully you can share it between 3-4 people. It’s a fairly hefty portion, and loading up on this much carbs is not a smart move for the Noodle Markets. But hey, I had noodles at the noodle markets! How about that?
Mr Bao
There’s never a shortage of bao stalls at the Night Noodle Markets, and that’s a good thing – they always get the longest queues. Case in point: the line for Mr Bao makes an Anaconda jelly. It stretches out all the way to the road, and then some!
On the plus side, the wait isn’t as scary as it looks, as service is mostly efficient – no supply issues here, just bao bao bao bao bao.
Be prepared to wait for this one
Speaking of bao, Mr Bao does it two ways – one is the traditional char siu bao which I’m sure we’re all familiar with. The other kind is gua bao, which has made a bit of a splash in 2015 with places like Belly Bao, Bao Stop, Ippudo (oh yes they’ve got those) and Melbourne’s Wonderbao all making their mark.
And why not? Gua bao are deliciously fluffy little numbers that enclose any number of delicious fillings – most commonly pork (belly), fried/braised chicken and tofu for the vegetarians. Heck Bao Stop (update incoming) even does a peking duck bao, which in hindsight makes TOTAL sense.
Snacks for two – fried chicken & pork belly crackling bao, soft shell crab dippers
We ended up ordering the crackling pork belly and fried chicken bao. They come in threes for $20, or $7.5 each. I like tofu, but I also like variety, so it was skipped this time around (I’m sorry my stomach isn’t like Doraemon’s). No regrets – the fried chicken bao is where it’s at anyway. Crunchy and juicy fried chicken, a devilishly addictive, creamy mayo on top of a pillowy bun makes for a very strong choice of snack. The slaw is also quite nice as it adds a sour, pickled crunch which foils the richness of the chicken & mayo.
The destiny we’re bao-nd for
I was less a fan of the crackling pork belly bao. While crackling is usually a winner, the pork belly itself didn’t carry too much flavour to it. It was a few bites later when I realised that 99% of the flavour was concentrated into a sweet & sour sauce at the bottom of the bao, which meant a very inconsistent experience. Dang, this could have been great!
The result? Winner winner – chicken dinner!
Goyle’s going to be so jealous when Crabbe gets all the attention
For those who want a different kind of bao, Mr Bao also does soft shell crab dippers, which is exactly what it looks like – crispy soft shell crab, deep fried dipping mantou bao, and a crab sambal. This is reminiscent of Yang’s Food Truck, but if we’re going to compare, Mr Bao’s is nowhere near as good. The problem is two-fold. One, the soft shell crab is really oily. It oozes the stuff with every bite, oh dear. Two: I had expected the sambal sauce to be a chilli sambal, but unfortunately it was very plain, though still carried some flavour.
However, the deep-fried mantou is worthy of compliment – despite its name, it doesn’t taste heavy or too rich, and the insides are very fluffy, soft and have a nice sweetness to it, which meant I could almost eat it by itself. Very enjoyable!
In the end? The gua bao is where it’s at, worth buying! FYI: you can also visit Mr Bao’s physical restaurant on York Street – win!
Trunk Road
I’ve never had any Indian on any of my jaunts to the Night Noodle Markets, which is something I was determined to change this year. Enter Trunk Road, headed by the same folks behind Bang Street Food in Surry Hills.
Time to try something else!
Their contribution to the Night Noodle Markets are the roadies. Essentially, fillings wrapped in a roti, served as a snack. Roti wraps, as it were.
The two choices? Steak & cheese or butter chicken. As tempted as I was to get butter chicken, I felt like it was a bit of a safe option, so I turn Philly and get my cow on.
In the steak & cheese roadie, beef steak is cubed and served with onion bhaji (an Indian variation on onion rings that’s similar to an onion fritter), cheese sauce and wrapped in roti.
Points awarded to the roti and the onion bhaji – soft, chewy bread that still carries with it a crispy and flakey crust, it was almost like a puff pastry that holds its form. Delicious. The onion bhaji was also a pleasant surprise – I really liked just how crumbly they were; they made sure the roadie never lacked any textural interest.
Those juicy onion rings!!
As for the beef? I have to say they’re somewhat inconsistent. Some cubes are very tough and chewy, others less so. There could also have been more cheese sauce to provide flavour – the chunks of beef are cut quite large, so they’re not seasoned all the way through. More cheese would go a long way to address that.
Still, given the strength of the roti and onion, I’d say this is worth trying, but perhaps give the butter chicken a go – that’s likely to be a crowd pleaser.
One Tea Lounge
Oh boy, this place. I’ve written plenty of words on David Yip’s infamous One Tea Lounge already, so I won’t go into the background here, when you can read it here instead. Suffice it to say that a Night Noodle Markets without One Tea Lounge is now impossible to fathom. This year, David introduces the matcha baoger alongside his iconic ramen & rice baogers. I don’t intend to get the matcha baoger at NNM, but I give the ramen/rice baogers another spin, as well as those oh-so-famous ice cream baogers.
Sigh, queues. Why am I always a sucker for these
Of course, to even obtain access is a rite of passage in and of itself. I’d suggest queuing up the moment they open, or else be prepared to wait half your night at the place (but then again, any popular stall – e.g. Hoy Pinoy, has the same problem). Still, queues and waiting are a part of life at the Noodle Markets, so be patient, and you shall be rewarded.
Ramen & rice baoger sliders, teriyaki chicken filling (3 sliders for $22, 2 for $15)
David understands that One Tea Lounge won’t be your only destination in the markets, so in consideration of your stomach space, the baogers come in slider size. My filling of choice for both is teriyaki chicken (if you read my main post on One Tea Lounge, you’ll know why), and I’m very happy with both. Both the ramen and rice buns are well-built, hold together, and are full of crunchy texture. They’re freshly made to order, unlike the ramen tacos, the difference being readily apparent.
The teriyaki chicken filling is also full of crispiness of its own, whilst the chicken is kept juicy within – no overcooked business here. The baogers are on a bed of sweet soy which while providing ample flavour, make the burgers a very messy eat. This is a multi-serviette job, unless you use knife and fork.
Well, given the size of these things, you can try using knife and fork. Either way, just go for it. CRUNCH CRUNCH!
Ice cream baogers (2 for $14)
Naturally, a visit to One Tea isn’t complete without their signature ice cream baogers. With four flavours on offer, you’d imagine choosing only two of them would be a difficult job. Not so! Of the matcha, lychee, black sesame & red bean flavours, only the black sesame & red bean flavours are strongly representative of their named flavour. Why the matcha in the picture then? Not for me! The red bean? That hits the spot.
In an attempt to differentiate from the One Tea Lounge restaurant, David made a change to the ice cream baogers specifically sold for the Noodle Markets – the introduction of miso caramel. This is an instant flavour boost, and is well-received. This enhancement should definitely carry across to the ice cream baogers over at the main restaurant when the time is right.
Now, you can’t really spell “Night Noodle Markets” without noodles, right? This year, I’m determined to put more noodle dishes in the spotlight, as last year I ate almost anything but noodles. Of course, I could get noodles anywhere – but as if our sensibilities couldn’t be astounded any further, I bring you ramen tacos.
Tossing up some beeeeef
Well, not me – but the cool folks at Everybody Loves Ramen (the same guys that run Hoy Pinoy!). I have never heard of this place before, and I don’t think they have a restaurant. However as they say, let the food do the talking. Tacos come in a trio for $18 with chicken, pork belly and beef. I think you can get more than 1 with the same ingredient, but variety wins, and I end up with all three.
Ramen tacos – chicken, beef, pork
Don’t let the camera take too long with this – these tacos are best enjoyed immediately. In that state, the fillings are what makes these shine! The tacos themselves are made out of congealed but pre-made ramen noodles, which lend to slightly crispy end bits (the exterior edges of the tacos), while keeping a chewier centre that doesn’t fall apart – at all. However, they won’t taste particularly fresh, a point to note. Construction-wise, they’re also a bit subpar – most of the filling is really outside the tacos, rather than within. Expect a multi-serviette job.
My personal favourite is the chicken, as it’s cooked the best. The beef is nice, especially with the paired sweet sauce, but was a little bit tough. Similar story with the pork belly. The chicken though? That stuff’s legit. Chicken, sweet sauce, ramen. Can’t go wrong.
Worth a try? Yes, worth a go. Perhaps not a second time though.
If the ramen tacos aren’t to your liking, you could give the ramen fried chicken a go. Yes, you heard that right – ramen fried chicken.
Thing is, there’s more than enough choice with respect to fried chicken at the Night Noodle Markets. Can the RFC win its way to our hearts?
Ramen fried chicken – small ($10), large ($15)
I’ll say this – it’s delicious chicken. Juicy meat, saucy exterior, plenty of flavour. Thing is, where’s the “ramen” aspect? I thought it would involve some quirky & clever trick where ramen noodles made up the batter, but it turns out it’s just ramen seasoning. That essentially translates into a sweet & salty flavour not unlike teriyaki. As such, it’s a juicy cup of chicken, but it doesn’t do anything to stand out.
Then again, while you’re there, you might as well?
Messina and Night Noodle Markets may not sound like a coherent pairing on paper, but let’s face it – they’re as much a part of the markets as any other stall. Heck, Messina livens up any food event. And why not, when for 2015’s NNM they have a selection of five Asian-themed gelato desserts to choose from? Two are in the form of bao, one is in a cup, and two are known as “Messina’s Maximum Wealth Bars”. Of course, it will only be Messina getting wealthy from all the patronage they’re sure to receive 😛
Gua bao – hen hao!
Yep, that’s the David Bao-wy (oh the puns). Gua bao have been making waves in 2015, and Messina is all about being on trend. This may look like a gimmick – and really, it is – however the flavour doesn’t lie. This is really good and totally worth it a second time.
The David Bao-wy: deep fried gua bao filled w/salted coconut sorbet, dipped in nuts, chocolate mango ganache and rolled in crushed cashews.
The bun is light and fluffy within, while maintaining that classic exterior crunch only deep-frying can imbue. Within is a pure white, refreshingly coconut-y sorbet that fully addresses any heaviness from the bun. The whole thing is rounded off by a smidgeon of tartness from the mango ganache, and finished off with a nuttiness from the cashews.
Yeah…just get this already, okay, or is there not enough chocolate for you? Well then, do I have just the cure for you…
The bao chicka bao bao – deep fried gua bao w/peanut gelato, dipped in milk chocolate sauce & rolled in crushed peanuts ($12)
This is the bao for those who crave something even richer than the David Bao-wy. This is all about the nutty gelato that Messina is famous for, plus an absolute slathering of chocolate sauce, and oodles of texture from crushed peanuts. The bao is of the same crispy, fluffy nature as the David Bao-wy (I expect nothing less), the gelato is classic Messina quality, but the most endearing element of the bao chicka bao bao is that milk chocolate sauce. Smooth, sweet, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t absolutely slay the chocolate monster within you.
This is just so off the hook!
It certainly did for me, that’s for sure. I smashed almost an entire one, and I’d happily chow down another. Hey, everybody needs carbs, right?
Gold bullion bar – layers of gula melaka gelato, condensed milk gelato, passionfruit jelly, nut crunch & banana bread
As my friends were even more excited about these than I was, the wrapping was torn apart long before I could get a proper photo of it #friendsoffoodbloggers 😛
Do believe me when I say that it arrived encased in gold foil – I truly felt wealthy with such a sizable gelato gold bullion bar. This is a hefty dessert, do share!
In actually eating it, you’re best served by taking direct bites out it like an ice cream sandwich. It’s very difficult to cut with plastic cutlery – your knives/forks will cave before the sandwich. That said, a concerted effort can pay off!
In terms of taste, I found it to be somewhat less enjoyable than I expected – there was a crumbly texture that was reminiscent of popping candy, but for some reason that just didn’t go very well with the very acidic passionfruit jelly and banana bread. In other words, the flavour and texture didn’t go too well together. Still worth getting? Perhaps, but if you could only have one bar to rule them all, I suggest you try the below:
Lucky money bar – layers of coconut gelato, pandan & coconut sorbet, mango gel, cashew nut sponge & coconut biscuit
Now this is where it’s at. For the same $10 price tag, the lucky money bar is significantly bigger than the gold bullion bar, and a lot more delicious to boot! The flavours were in far greater harmony with the textures for this one – coconut gelato & pandan go together like bread and butter, mango and a friable cocount biscuit also make for a great pairing. The result is a no-questions-asked recommendation from me.
The ultimate Maxibon
Just make sure you have someone to share it with – no seriously, you want to make room for other food.
The struggle to choose is all too real – so I simply ate both!
As of 2012, it ain’t no Night Noodle Markets unless Hoy Pinoy is present. These Filo BBQ experts do skewers like nobody else, and are easily the best of the show (sorry Daniel San!). You can find them pretty easily – just look for the clouds of billowing smoke. There are two locations – one’s at Truck Stop (chicken skewers only), while the other is towards the Southern end of Hyde Park which serves a fuller menu – including whole spit-roasted pig! The pictures here are of the smaller stall. As for the big one? Keep scrolling!
YES!
For now, skewers are what I had, which come in pairs for $12. It’s more $ than last year, but you also get more meat for your buck – the skewers really are bigger. That said, I did wish they’d stick to the $10 price point and keep the meat a bit smaller. That would give more relative surface area for the sauce to coat. Still pretty good!
6 chicken skewers!
Speaking of sauce, that’s what gives Hoy Pinoy its flair – it’s not the excellently charcoal-grilled chicken (though that definitely plays a part). It’s a uniquely Filipino condiment called banana ketchup. Think of it as their answer to maple syrup (as a savoury condiment). It’s sticky, it’s sweet but it’s also savoury & smoky. I could eat these skewers for days.
As for that spit-roasted pig? Here we go!
Hoy Pinoy – main stall
In order to partake in Hoy Pinoy’s full menu, you must visit their main stall which is at the southern end of Hyde Park. How can you tell? An even bigger billowing cloud of smoke. What do you get for the effort? Oh, I dunno, try this on for size:
Yes. That is literally a whole, spit-roasted pig.
Just. Look. At. That. Those char marks, that glisten, OH THE SWINE. I’m ready to eat, yo.
Of course, you don’t get the whole pig…what, you wanted it all? I don’t blame you. The BBQ pig forms the basis of a rather special dish known as lechon baboy, shown below:
The basis of the dish is that it’s essentially pork & its associated crackling served with rice, a pungent, pig liver-rich sauce known as lechon sauce (Lechon = “whole pig” – thanks for the tip Raff!), and papaya pickles called atchara. The pork is expectedly delicious – hard & crunchy crackling (bring your jaw game), with moist-enough meat that while not packed with the flavour I was expecting, is greatly assisted by the pungent sauce. It’s really, really delicious – think of a sweet, liver/paté kind of taste that matches the pork perfectly, and pretty much caused me to devour all of the available rice. Whoops.
Worth getting? For sure – and be sure to eat it fresh!
Oh, and because those skewers are just so good, we got those again too. I mean it when I say they’re the shiz!
Chicken ft pork ft rice ft lechon. Dinner is sorted yo.
This ends my coverage on Hoy Pinoy – I need not convince you further!
Food courts: the quick feed, the sole choice for fickle diners, the option of last resort? Is this the kind of rap they get? Nobody’s expecting hatted dining here. Food courts are great – there’s usually something for everyone, prices are generally reasonable, and most importantly, they’re a quick option. They have their place.
Of course, like everything else, food courts (or food centres if you want to get all schmancy on me) must roll with the times. Indeed, one of the biggest shifts in food hall renovation has been occurring a mere two-minute walk from my workplace.
Of course, I speak of the MLC Centre food court. AKA my local, and I could barely recognise it post-facelift!
Date Last Visited: 25/9/15 (multiple visits) Address: Corner King St & Castlereagh St, Sydney NSW 2000
I’ve eaten at the old MLC Centre food court on and off maybe 20-30 times in my time working at Martin Place. As such, when the kind folks at The Mint Partners asked me to do a post on the new-and-improved MLC Centre, I happily accepted.
As the post is sponsored, this naturally means The Usual Disclaimer is in full force.
At 11am, the tradies dominate
One uniquely appealing feature of MLC Centre that immediately sets it apart from other food courts such as Hunter Connection, Met Centre or Chinatown is the wide, circular opening that allows for vampire-smiting levels of natural light to shine into the grounds. It’s a veritable halo, and yep, it’s waterproof.
What’s changed? One’s definitely the seating. The tables and chairs have been converted into wooden veneer, with minimally exposed metal. It’s smart, and exposes an almost hipster, cafe-centric look. Some won’t like it, but it’s quite refreshing. The seating has also changed such that it encourages communal dining thanks to the provision of large, square tables, but pairs are still catered for.
(12:30pm) And now the business people are in!
All in all, the natural light and the gorgeous new seating means you might actually consider taking your lunch at the food court, rather than to a park or to the office (shivers). Of course, that’s assuming you can even get a seat. During peak hours, it’s packed like Pennant Hills Road during peak hour. That’s…generally not a good thing, but what can you do – it’s just that popular.
Heck, there’s even a full-blown IGA Romeo Supermarket that will soon be opening up, as well as Neil Perry’s acclaimed Burger Project. If anything, MLC Centre is going to be hotter than ever.
So what’s there to eat? Honestly, there was no way I could take a decent crack at the 27 retailers with the time and budget I’ve got. That said, let it never be said that I didn’t try:
The spread
That’s what I’m talking about. And yes, all of this food did get finished. Please, this post wasn’t about to be the letdown of my blog’s namesake!
The spread features goodies from four retailers, chosen by me.
Lok Lok Dumpling Express
Let’s not beat around the bush – Lok Lok sells dumplings & noodles, and they’re good at what they do.
Lok, that’s about as tight a summary as I can provide.
Established to be a relatively accessible way to get dumplings without paying a fortune, Lok Lok’s steamed goods come out to between $1.75/$2/dumpling, which is a fair haircut on the $3.5-$4/dumpling price of higher-end joints such as Work In Progress/Mr Wong. Of course, Lok Lok is primarily a fast option, so it would be prudent to keep quality expectations in check.
I wish I had more of these…
When it comes down to it, I would eat Lok Lok’s dumplings more often – as they really strike the sweet spot. The dumplings are well-sized, packed with filling, and priced just right. Yes, you could get cheaper from the local down-and-dirty local Asian, or you could jump up towards Mr Wong. But find one in this middle range? Difficult.
My particular pick? TBD
Oh, and if you decide to order these, note that you won’t actually get them in the pictured wooden punnets, as these were provided for photo purposes. You’ll receive them in more conventional, disposable packaging. And remember rule #1: if they stop steaming, you’ve waited too long – so eat them quick!
Your mouth will burn but you won’t regret it
While dumplings is the main game Lok Lok plays, I can’t look past noodles if they’re on offer. Noodle soup flows through my veins, so the song of slurping is strong indeed.
I decided to get their signature dish – the Sichuan Wonton Noodle Soup. Bring on the pain I say, but what am I thinking? It’s not spicy to me. In saying this, there is a fair bit of heat in this dish, particularly for those who don’t eat Sichuan-style numbing chilli on a regular basis. Get past that though, and you’re rewarded with a salty-sweet broth, bouncy noodles, and juicy wontons with golden, slippery skin and beefy filling.
Just don’t drink all of the soup – there’s just way too much oil for that!
The Lok Lok stall
Bonjour Crepes
One of the more interesting stalls to grace MLC Centre is decidedly French in flair – Bonjour Crepes is in the house – merci!
Crepe time! Fruitella crepe & the Frenchy
The creperie cleverly serve both savoury and sweet variations, and thus has something for you regardless of whether you want a sugar rush or a cheesy kick.
My friends and I ended up ordering two savoury and one sweet crepe. The savoury above is The Frenchy, whose main attraction comes in the form of raclette cheese and creamy potatoes as fillings. The crepes are in need of a bit more chewiness, being a little on the tougher side. The potatoes warm and mushy, and the cheese, while a little lacking on the quantity front, pulled its weight in bringing everything together. There just needed to be more of it.
CUT FASTER
In letting a friend decide on the 2nd savoury, an accidental rivalry was initiated with her choice of The Italian. I have to say, Italy wins this round – bellisimo! It’s all to do with flavour. The prosciutto was cut quite thick – oddly more like ham in texture, but delivered the goods with its porky, salty & smoky flavour profile.
From where I stand? The best is where dessert is at.
*heavy breathing*
Most dessert crepes from Bonjour come with a scoop of ice cream to seal the deal. I decided to opt for the Fruitella, featuring – you guessed it – Nutella. Quite possibly the only thing that can be considered a reasonable substitute to ice cream. Add fruits, and I can live the delusion that it’s a *ahem* healthy choice. Just get rid of the cream, I say – ask for the crepe without it!
Still, it’s worth the feed. Apart from a little inconsistency where there was a high concentration of Nutella (and a corresponding lack of fruit) in one corner of the crepe, the overall flavour & mouthfeel of Fruitella is solid. I mean, it’s Nutella, you’re either in love by default, or you don’t exist. Simple as that.
The Italian on the bottom right
For me, the best thing about Boujour is that they actually provide a crepes option at MLC Centre. French-style cooking never did seem to have much of a presence in food courts, but I’m glad to see that changing. Dieu merci!
What to seek when pining for crepes
Alrighty, because I never get full, let’s keep the ball rolling.
Bun Me
If there’s a cuisine that can compete with Thai on the number of puns you could make, it would be Vietnamese. (I’m sure iFat has something to say about this).
Bun Me (a play on Banh Mi) is the default providore of Vietnamese food at MLC Centre, serving a range of Vietnamese bread rolls with various fillings, pho, rice dishes and an ungodly large collection of goi cuon (rice paper rolls). I counted over 15 types, more than any I had ever seen. With fillings like egg omelette, nem (Vietnamese sausage), soft shell crab, crab sticks, teriyaki chicken and more, this could very well be the go-to place for lovers of goi cuon, even for those for whom MLC Centre is not their closest food court.
The classic pork banh mi ($7.9)
But I’m going to talk about the classic pork banh mi first. I can’t skip this – and while it would be unfair to judge a Vietnamese outlet based on just their banh mi, one would hope that it’s a good one.
It was decidedly run of the mill. No part of the banh mi was poor, but no part of it was exemplary. The bread is flakey and crunchy, but only just so. There’s a lot of lettuce and not enough pickled carrot/daikon/cucumber, resulting in unrealised acidity. The pork tastes great but there wasn’t enough of it, allowing all that lettuce to dominate. The pate on the other hand, is really good – a standout in creaminess and punchiness of flavour.
Those of you who are used to paying $4 for top-quality banh mi in Cabramatta, Bankstown and Marrickville will be unimpressed, but in the end, an okay banh mi is still better than none.
Biggest selection of rice paper rolls ever – note the fridge to the right!
Where Bun Me’s strength truly lies – ironic, given their name – is in their goi cuon. There’s literally something for everyone here. My picks? The egg omelette, the soft shell crab, as well as the nem sausage. The nutty & savoury peanut sauce included with each order is a must. Eat it fresh, don’t let it rest – that’s how to consume it best!
Schnitz
Take note of that schnitz, but take even bigger note of those chips!
Quite possibly the most popular stall at MLC Centre is Schnitz. Originating from Melbourne, this fast food chain serves up gobsmackingly delicious variations on the chicken schnitzel, but what really draws the crowds are their twice-cooked chips. And yes, Schnitz is on a mission to bury Australia with these twice-cooked bad boys – there are already 48 locations, with more incoming.
Where the schnitty’s are at
Just how good are these chips? To put it one way – they will not disappoint. Sydney’s not exactly short of talent in frying up spuds, so it isn’t a walk in the park for the Melbourne incumbent. In saying this, Schnitz holds its own – these are damn good. They’re cut somewhere in between chunky-cut and shoestring, which shouldn’t offend either camp. Their texture? Oh so crunchy, to the point where the crunching of say, shoes on gravel seems awfully mushy in comparison. Going beyond the crisp exterior, the insides are still hot and fluffy. Overall flavour is a light spiciness, with an edge of sweetness brought about by sweet potato dust.
Oh yeah, the schnitzel is pretty good too. In a nod to Australian tradition, we got the schnitzel parmy. Pretty much everything can be improved with cheese, and this is no exception. Gooey cheese, a well crusted crumb coating, and chicken that’s juicy enough to be decent.
Those queues don’t seem so surprising anymore, do they?
One more, for the road!
This is only the beginning. On separate visits, I’ve also visited Guzman Y Gomez, Iku Wholefoods, Thai in a Box, Alexander’s Patisserie, and Sushi Hon for my lunchtime fix. There is practically no end to the available variety. If you’ve been shunning MLC Centre before, it won’t hurt to give it another chance. You could even get some grocery shopping done at the IGA while you’re at it.
This post is based on a sponsored visit to MLC Food Centre, in conjunction with several independently paid-for visits prior that substantiate the opinions in this post.
Crepes, dumplings, pork rolls or super crispy spuds? Any recommendations from you, dear reader?
Rene Redzepi. A man who can be described in a series of soundbites that are as truthful as they are extraordinary and hype-generating: the most influential chef in the world; a pioneer in sustainable methods of foraged cooking; one of the greatest cooks in the world, a man for whom legends like Ferran Adria draw inspiration; the master of Noma in Copenhagen, a restaurant that has won more accolades than any other on the face of this planet. Two Michelin stars, four-time best restaurant in the world, it’s probably somewhere you’ve wanted to go. It’s hard to believe that Redzepi managed to reach such a level of reverence at only the age of 37.
Now here’s the problem – Noma is in Copenhagen. It’s not easy to organise a trip halfway across the world just to eat at a restaurant (though I’ve certainly done that before), and with news of Noma’s closure at the end of 2016, I had to accept the fact that I would miss out on this golden nugget of culinary history.
At least, until I scored a reservation at Noma’s 10-week pop-up in Sydney’s Barangaroo. Let’s just say confetti was involved.
Date Last Visited: 28/1/16 Address: 23 Barangaroo Rd, New South Wales 2146
This is Noma
Redzepi is no stranger to pop-ups. He did a five-week stint at the Mandarin Oriental in Tokyo before targeting Sydney. It is truly humbling that Redzepi considers Australia to be “worth” the relocation. But then again, why shouldn’t we take pride in this? Heston Blumenthal did the same thing for The Fat Duck in Melbourne, and in fact, the venue is now a permanent Dinner By Heston outpost. Think about it: when talking about local and unique produce, Australia is positively abundant. For a forager like Redzepi, our continent-island is a veritable cornucopia.
Edible or not?
Indeed, Rene spent months and months travelling all around the country to forage and unearth the best of the best, coming up with items that are sure to baffle even the most seasoned-Australian. Think crocodile fat, magpie goose, and green ants. Most of the ingredients at Noma Sydney are unique to Australia, and if that’s the way it could be, then that’s the way it should be.
An outdoor lounge to chill at while you await your dining partners…or to grab a drink after your meal.
Some numbers, even though you probably are already aware: the meal is $485 a head (excluding drinks), lasted 3 hours, and only 5,500 diners will be able to experience the Sydney experience over its 10-week residency. There is a wait list 27,000+ strong, and while you might have a higher chance of winning the lottery than to capitalise on a cancellation, you may as well sign up on the off-chance you get it. You gotta be in it, to win it?
In chatting to Redzepi after the meal (so glad for the opportunity!), he mentioned that the restaurant space itself is hugely important to the experience. Given that the food focus is highly Australian (or “Strayan”), it shouldn’t be too surprising to witness wallaby fur being draped on every second seat. Similar to what Vue De Monde does with kangaroo pelts, it’s these little touches that set the scene. Bonus points for the semi-transparent curtains offering a modicum of privacy, as well as respite from the sun.
See the fur draped on some of the seats? That’s wallaby fur!
The rest of the decor is standard fare, commensurate with modern dining trends – naked wood, no tablecloths, and comfortable, leather-padded seats. Hopefully the location will be efficiently utilised at the end of the pop-up period: another restaurant could seriously find itself at home here. Now, while I could go on and on about backstory, we really should get to the important stuff – the food!
As of now, the menu is 12-courses, heavily showcasing Australian vegetables, fruits and seafood. There is no red meat. I was a little apprehensive, but “it’s Noma”, so I decided to put my full faith in Redzepi’s vision of how Aussie ingredients could be used. Let’s dig in!
Unripe macadamia and spanner crab
Right off the bat, Noma takes the path less (if ever) travelled with something familiar, yet done in a completely alien way. Slivers of unripe macadamia is served inside several spoonfuls of spanner crab broth, and presented equally as simply. Goodness, we have a macadamia tree right in our own very front yard, yet have never experienced macs like this before.
The difference is primarily textural. While ripe macadamias are rich and fatty, they exhibit a far more watery crunch in their unripe form. The taste is also a little more tart, and displays a floral touch, though perhaps that’s also the work of the spanner crab broth. As with most soups I experience in fine dining, I wish I had a few more spoonfuls. It’s refreshing, subtly sweet and umami; just oily enough not to be overly rich, imparting a subtle luster to the dish that would otherwise have tasted just a tad too flat.
While not my ideal way to enjoy macadamias, Noma and Redzepi have already imparted a fully nascent way of cooking right from the first dish.
Wild seasonal berries flavoured with gubinge
The next course of wild seasonal berries w/gubinge had plating so dazzling, it sparked an urge within to go into the outback and take up foraging for myself. Of course, I wouldn’t last two minutes, so I have Noma to thank for providing me a sample of Australia’s berry flora right here on the plate.
There’s a lot going on here – muntries, riberries, lemon aspen and desert lime. The entire dish is dusted with kakadu plum (gubinge) powder, and is served within a bath of savoury seaweed oil. It’s a mouthful of ingredients, translating to a mouthful of flavour.
The kind of dish that gets you interested in foraging
The most interesting slant here is the interplay between the savoury, ocean-like rawness of the seaweed oil mixed with the various bitter, sweet and sour flavours of the assorted berries. Upon my first bite I instantly decided I didn’t like it – yet, as I progressed through the dish, it grew on me with each and every mouthful. By the end, I was lamenting that it was coming to a close – somehow, the odd flavour combinations proved quite addictive. Every bite is at the same time sweet, acidic, astringent and savoury. Incredibly wholesome. The kakadu plum powder adds a final sour kick that’s a fair bit like sherbet, given its texture.
Speaking of texture, the dish is full of it – some of it resembled sultanas, some like sundried tomato, while others still almost like lychee. There’s so much going on, yet instead of the dish being “too busy” for its own good, it becomes a sum greater than its constituent parts. A really well-done “berry salad” that’s unexpected in so many ways.
Porridge of golden and desert oak wattleseed with saltbush
When at a restaurant like Noma, you’re bound to get something that’s oh so very, very green. That dish comes in as a wattleseed porridge w/saltbush leaves. Usually restaurants use ground up wattleseed as powder, however Noma opts to use the entire seed – husk and all – turning it into a porridge. This concoction is then leavened between poached saltbush leaves, and topped w/anise myrtle and finger lime.
As far as all-green dishes go, it’s quite a pretty plate.
The “porridge”
While I was expecting a “oh, tastes like plants” kind of flavour palate, I was pleasantly stunned as to how rich and complex the flavours were. Well, for plants anyway. It’s herby, acidic, but also creamy and rich. The wattleseed is tough and husky, adding a nice element of texture to crunch through, while the saltbush leaves imparts its own salinity just enough to keep each bite interesting.
Overall, it’s not a “mindblowing” dish per se, however this is probably as good as you’ll get while keeping things as green as they get. Salad, anyone?
Seafood platter and crocodile fat
One of my favourite dishes of the meal would have to be the seafood platter w/crocodile fat. To be fair, the term “seafood platter” itself is enough to send me running, however Noma isn’t just going to be content with what every other wharf restaurant is doing. Here, Redzepi shows off five of Australia’s best crustaceans. Starting from the bottom and working clockwise we have pippies, a mussel, a strawberry clam (first time!), a cockle and an oyster. Each is topped with a perfectly-cooked layer of near-translucent chicken skin and crocodile fat.
To save words, let’s just assume that all of the crustaceans are essentially perfect, and as good as you’ll ever get this side of the world. Particular kudos to the mussel and strawberry clam – the flesh from these two particular shells were remarkably savoury, wholesome and utterly delicious. Where the magic really takes off is when the croc fat & chicken skin combo is mixed in. It smells pungent, but in taste, adds an extra dimension of piquant richness to the seafood that is a little beyond my vocabulary to describe. It melts in the mouth and has a sticky, toffee effect if not eaten with the shellfish.
The dish is a bit challenging to eat, and you will get your hands dirty – it’s fine dining, but nobody said it had to be fancy 😛
I really couldn’t fault this one – the ingredients and flavours are right up my alley.
W.A deep sea snow crab and cured egg yolk
Speaking of dishes up my alley, Noma keeps punching with the WA deep sea snow crab & cured egg yolk. The snow crab is cooked halfway and is served warm, allowing its springy, chewy texture to fully express itself in mouthfeel. This is a surprisingly notable turn of events as up till now, pretty much everything has been served at room temperature. A little bit of warmth makes all the difference. Unfortunately, of us four diners, three of us encountered shell in the crab, which could have led to a dangerous accident. I’m quite surprised a restaurant of Noma’s level made such a rudimentary mistake not once, not twice, but three times. It’s hard to forgive, but I guess we had no choice but to move on.
Now as for the egg yolk, it ain’t any ordinary variant; it’s egg yolk that’s been cooked with – get this – fermented kangaroo jus. I got my first hint from smelling it – it’s just about the most pungent thing on the menu, almost to the point of foulness. However, my foreboding disappeared with just one bite – somehow, all of the acridity disappears in taste, and what’s left is marvellously luscious yellow gold that I could see myself eating with nothing more than slabs of bread.
Other than the triple incident of shells in the dish, another dish with flavour win.
A pie with dried scallops and lantana flowers
Sometimes, you gotta love menu descriptions – a pie. Why, thanks Noma, I guess it is a pie! Or rather, half a pie, because Rene’s a bit of a tease and well, one can never have enough of a good thing, eh?
On the left, we have half of a seaweed & scallop pie and on the right, lantana flowers – a member of the verbena family. You are meant to pick off the flowers, and decorate the top of the pie before serving. Something like this:
Post-decoration
Oh my, that is suddenly 10x prettier. Is it 10x tastier?
Not bad, not bad. One fault: I don’t like the outer pastry. It’s seaweed you see, and so unlike real pastry, it’s a bit thin, chewy and “skin”-like. It also doesn’t quite hold together the pie as well as I would have liked. Not quite my thing. However, the internals of scallop “fudge” is creamy heaven. Think pureed umami and you’re on the right track.
The Lantana flowers add an element of sweetness which has a small neutralising effect on the richness of the pie, but ultimately it’s a matter of looks to me. Here’s a fun fact: the stem and leaves of the flower are poisonous! So uh…don’t eat the stem please. Seriously.
BBQ’d milk ‘dumpling’, Marron and magpie goose
Redzepi calls this the BBQ’d milk ‘dumpling’ w/marron and magpie goose. Dumpling…taco? Or crepe? Or even – wait for it – jianbing?
Whatever you want to call it, this dish’s uniquely elegant plating can’t be denied. However, with the knowledge that there’s marron within, I couldn’t wait to dig right into it, and so I did!
The “taco” is actually milk that has been reduced to its constituent solids and then caramelised. Inside sits pretty much a whole poached marron tail, flavoured with a magpie goose ragu.
More a taco or crepe, no?
Bloody hell, it’s tasty AF. The marron is an utterly generous portion, and one of the plumpest, juiciest specimens I’ve ever had. The magpie goose was less impactful, adding a bit of sauciness and gaminess to the flavour palate of the dish. The milk skin tasted sticky-sweet, and almost like a burnt caramel with a fraction of the sugar content. A savoury that really made us wonder – just what could top this one?
Sea urchin & tomato dried with pepper berries
I’m sorry for the foreshadowing, but no, the sea urchin w/tomatoes is not the abovementioned dish-topper. That said, it’s a solid bowl all by itself. The tomatoes all hail from Tasmania, are dehydrated for 8-10 hours and served in a tomato broth, along with a piece of sea urchin on the side.
The tomatoes are the star of the show here. They are all of varying levels of intensity, but are all succulent, packed with an intense sweetness that’s almost heady in its flavour.
Tomatoes at a new level
The sea urchin however is not so becoming. While I like sea urchin of all kinds, this one just didn’t seem to quite hit the right level of richness. A high-quality urchin would be almost buttery and packed with taste. This is a shadow of such an ideal urchin. My dining companions were even less impressed.
Still, a dish that’s 80% tomatoes that makes you think “wow, these are some damn good tomatoes” is a dish well done indeed!
Abalone schnitzel and bush condiments
And here we have it folks, the best dish of the day, as agreed on by everyone at the table – the abalone schnitty & bush condiments. There’s so much going on here, describing it is an exercise in and of itself. Yes, there’s a crumbed & fried full-sized abalone schnitzel. On the sides are sea lettuces, foraged herbs, kakadu plum, Neptune’s necklace (cool name!), finger lime, and god knows what else, served with a side of yeast & celery oil (not pictured).
This is all about that abalone. This is the tenderest morsel ever, the tastiest; backed up by a lovely, crunchy crumb that will spoil every other schnitzel I will ever have. Well, perhaps not that dramatic, but this is something to be tasted in order to understand what I’m talking about. I didn’t realise abalone could be cooked so well, indeed it’s almost as tender as tofu. Nor did I realise you could neutralise the “sea” flavour of this curious marine snail to such a great effect. And of course, only Rene Redzepi of Noma would think of cooking it as a schnitzel of all things. All my life I’ve eaten abalone braised, to think you could even give it the deep fry treatment…
…as far as I’m concerned, this is the ultimate expression of Noma’s cooking philosophy. Procure the best of the best ingredients, but do something that nobody else would even think of. By taking these risks, you stand tall above the rest…or die trying.
As for the surrounding garnishes, most of it is on the money, though everything else is essentially a fancy salad next to the abalone. Particular favourites were the finger lime, and the bunya nut that tasted almost sweet enough to be a fruit. I’ll admit it – the dish and its ingredients are easily beyond my depth of comprehension. Just eat it all, and be glad you were able to cherish it even this one time.
Marinated fresh fruit
At this point, we finish off with the savouries and move to the first dessert of marinated fresh fruit. It comes in three parts:
A mango sandwich w/mango sorbet & green ants (no, I didn’t drop it on the ground and pick up ants by accident)
A pineapple slab in a hibiscus flower
A piece of compressed watermelon marinated in the juices of the Davidson plum
So essentially, it’s fruit salad, but of course with a little bit of a twist.
Excuse me waiter, there are ants on my food
There’s a bit of a psychological barrier with eating insects. However, if the media would have us believe it, our descendents will be eating the six-legged critters on a regular basis on the premises of sustainable eating. Might as well get an early start on that! Really though, these green ants release a burst of acidity when eaten, and add to the zestiness of the soft and creamy mango sorbet. Nothing more, nothing less.
The pineapple is a remarkably sweet piece, that when eaten with the petals of the hibiscus flower, take on an almost creamy, velvety quality in texture. Nothing special here, but quite enjoyable.
The oddest of the bunch would have to be the watermelon. As it’s marinated in the juices of a plum, it’s extremely sour on the outside, yet markedly sweet within, as the natural sweetness of the watermelon still reign on the inside. I didn’t enjoy it very much, but it definitely did its job of cleansing the palate.
Rum lamington
In a subtle nod to Australia (like everything else wasn’t already??), the second dessert is a “lamington” that’s actually aerated rum cake w/milk crumbs & native tamarind sauce. It’s served chilled, such that the cake almost tastes like an ice cream, if it weren’t for the slight sponginess to it. Unfortunately, my sample was far too overpowering on the rum, and the bitter-acrid tamarind definitely did not work with the cake.
Looks like sriracha…
A very weak dessert for me, and one of the weakest dishes on the menu.
Peanut milk and freekeh “Baytime”
Things turn around with the “Baytime”, as the Noma team couldn’t exactly name it the Golden Gaytime (ahem *trademark* ahem). This is a raw peanut milk ice-cream that’s coated with a caramel & freekeh glaze, served on a twig of lemon myrtle. Could you be more Australian?
Freaky for freekeh!
While a bit superfluous with the presentation, I couldn’t fault the ice cream itself. It’s not like a golden gaytime in that there is no textural crunch at all, but instead it possesses various levels of creaminess – a thick, sticky texture on the outside (no doubt thanks to the caramel & fibrous freekeh), followed by a smoother, more familiar ice cream within. It’s also never too sweet, so it was easy to crave 2-3 more after finishing what little we were provided.
Mmmm, now that’s a nice way to finish.
Apple and native herbs, desert lime
For petit fours, we were provided with apple & native herbs & desert lime, where the apple sugar wrapper is of course, made edible. This is incredibly sour, and is not for everyone, but I like sourness, so gimme gimme gimme!
We’re best mates now ahem /s
Oh, and of course, a mandatory chat and photo with the man himself is on the menu. Anyone who is serious about food should have five minutes with Rene – he will open your mind. For once, I’m keeping his wisdom to myself – you’ll have to visit Noma to hear it!
Would I go again? That depends…
It is immediately apparent that “reviewing” an experience like Noma Australia is virtually pointless. I did it anyway because no restaurant is above criticism, but it is obvious that short of describing the food as poisonous, there can only be one recommendation if you had the hypothetical choice of whether to go or not: you go. It is worth $485.
While some will balk and some will belittle those who scored a reservation as being “idiots with more money than sense” (which is pretty offensive, by the way), in the end an experience like this is an adventure. You’re only going to be doing it once. You want it to count – and Noma Australia, for all of the quirks in the meal, made every last dollar count; an experience that will be a benchmark for many a meal to come. It is likely a restaurant like Noma will not be seen again for some time, I will relish it while I can.
This post is based on an independently paid visit to Noma Australia
The Good:
Exceptional cooking technique and ingredients combine to form a remarkable menu that will have something to astound any level of foodie
Omgosh that abalone
The Bad:
Noma’s eccentric cooking style will not impress everyone
It’s not too filling – I was hungry afterwards
Slightly weak finish with the desserts
The Ugly:
Chances are, you will be unable to go due to the sellout of the pop-up’s entire run
I have a new scoring system! Read all about it here.
Most important takeaway – three separate scores for food, service and ambiance to give the final score. The new system is not compatible with any score given prior to 11/11/2014.
Well, here we are folks. After 19 days fooding (and fooling) around in Japan, you saw this coming. Yes, it’s time to do the hard yards and blog about the whole darn thing. I just hope I can get it done while the year still starts with a 2.
There will be two parts to the “Japan Chronicles”, as I’ve just decided to call it. Firstly, there are sixteen restaurants that will receive their own, dedicated blog posts. The reason being that these are substantive experiences, featuring a wide array of courses that require their own space. Additionally I will, for the first time, introduce a series of travel posts that will outline my trip more generally, including Japan’s non-food highlights. Why? Because I love the country, and hell, I want you to know why.
You know how I said there’d be two parts? I lied – this post is the standalone third aspect, and one I believe is necessary. It’s as the title says – an introduction to kaiseki. No joke, this post is well and truly needed, as a disproportionate number of them I’ll be publishing are about kaiseki restaurants. If however you’re already familiar with kaiseki, feel free to move right along. If you’re staying, here’s the deal: there are plenty of resources, online and offline, that offer a wealth of information into what kaiseki is all about. I’ll try and keep it simple, and explain it using my own words. Yeah…that could be a bad thing – read on and find out!
Introduction to Kaiseki
What is kaiseki? It is a way of cooking, quintessentially Japanese, that defines itself on an intense focus on produce seasonality. It requires a breathtaking amount of skill to master, due to the number of possible courses, their preparation and their derivatives. It can be considered to be the highest-level of nihon-ryōri or Japanese cuisine. The structure of kaiseki may seem to be tantamount of “throwing dishes at the customer and see what sticks”, but in reality, follows a semi-regimented system of multiple, relatively small courses which, when consumed one after another – ultimately culminates in an electrically stimulating food opera for the diner.
The interior of Tsuruko in Kanazawa
No doubt about it, kaiseki can be extravagant. Ingredients are chosen with a level of care and undertaking that could petrify the average chef, done so to produce an exacting balance of texture, taste, colours, appearance, placement, and yes, even including the choice of crockery and dishware that each course is served in. For example, the experience of cupping a kiln-fired, beautifully textured ceramic cup while sipping on matcha is as much an experience of the feel of the cup in your hands as it is enjoying the tea itself. The final presentation of any given kaiseki dish is never an accident, and thus, always resplendent to the eye. Quite pertinent, what with this day and age of Instagramming, don’t you think? Bet the kaiseki chefs of old didn’t see that one coming.
Kaiseki is essentially Japan’s version of a western degustation, but I won’t mince words here: when asked “what is kaiseki?”, head chef Yoshihiro Murata (of Kikunoi fame) answers simply with this: “it is eating the seasons”. And really, that is truly the best answer there is.
Them in-hand feels…
A Brief History of Kaiseki
The origins of the word “kaiseki” merits some discussion. Originally, its kanji was written as 懐石, which translates into “stone in robe/bosom stone”. The rather odd (and hard to believe) story here is that Japanese monks, living in austerity, would ward off hunger by placing hot stones within their robes, next to their stomachs. This particular form of kaiseki forms the essence of cha-kaiseki (tea-kaiseki), which refers to the meal that contextualises the first part of Japanese tea ceremonies (chanoyu) – with the tea at the end being the highlight. Tea is kind of a big deal in Japan, and cha-kaiseki was popularised by a monk called Sen no Rikyu, considered the progenitor of, and master of the craft. In his version of kaiseki, the concept of wabi sabi – which accepts the beauty of imperfection and simplicity – is in use. Thus, his version of kaiseki was originally a four-course, relatively ascetic affair known as ichiju sansai (one soup, 3 dishes) – guess the monks do get to eat something now and then.
So how’s this even relevant to modern kaiseki? Well, “kaiseki” as it is known today – that is, denoted with the kanji 会席 (formal occasion), took many cues from the austere, 懐石 kaiseki form.
Here’s a photo of me so you don’t get bored
But that’s literally not even the half of it. While modern kaiseki is predominantly influenced by 懐石/cha-kaiseki, there are also strong influences from Buddhist vegetarian cuisine (shōjin-ryōri), as well as samurai cuisine (honzen-ryōri). In the former, you’ll find the reason why much of kaiseki emphasises vegetables – especially what’s fresh and in season. As for the latter, samurai households (who, by the way, were the equivalent of the 1% of that period) had rather extravagant tastes – and thus their versions of kaiseki were exceptionally elaborate. Naturally, the royals in the imperial court also have their own version of luxuriant feeding (yūsoku ryōri). As samurai and royalty began developing the kinds of palates that far surpass the candor of ichiju sansai kaiseki, its modern variant naturally evolved to something far, far more sophisticated – and it is indeed this “formal occasion”, ultra-luxe version of kaiseki that is prevalent in high-end restaurants (or ryotei) today. This is what you will see in all my blog posts on kaiseki restaurants. To recap:
Cha-Kaiseki: tea ceremony kaiseki; notion of ichiju-sansai
Honzen-ryōri: samurai multi-course cuisine, very extravagant
Shōjin-ryōri: Buddhist monk cuisine; vegetarian and very austere. Linkages with 懐石 “kaiseki” – wabi sabi philosophy
Yūsoku ryōri: imperial court/royalty; pretty much the reason why kaiseki today is just a bit “OTT“.
The okami-san preparing crab at Tsuruko
While you can definitely find restaurants that specialise in just one of the above types of cuisine, most modern kaiseki restaurants incorporate elements from each. And as for what region of Japan kaiseki owes its origin? It is widely accepted that Kyoto – the old imperial capital – is where it all began. You could make a good argument that to experience a true kaiseki experience at its roots, you must visit Kyoto.
Luckily, that’s not true, strictly speaking – kaiseki is everywhere in Japan!
So that was a bit of a history lesson, but hopefully an informative one.
Ornate ceramics are prevalent within kaiseki restaurants
Kaiseki Structure
Kaiseki has evolved in such a way that it allows masters of the cuisine to express their appreciation of the seasons to the fullest, whilst keeping to a familiar structure that can be thought of as “regimen without limitation”. Indeed, you just know it when you’re enjoying a kaiseki meal, but each kaiseki restaurant is most definitely endowed with its own identity. At least, the best ones are. Most kaiseki will follow a structure that is similar to one I’m about to outline below. There is generally only one rule – you can never take out the rice and soup dishes in constructing the menu. Any other course is fair game. I mean, it’s soup and rice we’re talking about here. Need I say more?
Of course, any course, even soup and rice, can be dramatically altered. That’s where the innovation lies.
Utensil: rikyu-bashi
The chopsticks below are called rikyu-bashi, and you could probably guess who invented them. Traditionally, the master of ceremonies at a tea-kaiseki makes the chopsticks personally for his guests, usually using wood from red cedar. It was considered the height of treatment when “served” chopsticks this way.
Curious note: in Japan, even at ryotei (high-end restaurants), chopsticks carry that “disposable” feel, likely due to hygiene reasons. Something to get used to if you were expecting chopsticks with a bit more substance and heft.
Not unique to kaiseki is oshibori, which is provided at just about every Japanese restaurant. Usually used for cleansing the hands, some do use the hot towels to go for the face as well. There’s no hard rule here, though hands and face with the same towel is considered a bit unhygienic.
Rikyu-style chopsticks (left) and oshibori (hot towel – right) from Nihonryori Ryugin (not actually a kaiseki restaurant per se, but the chopsticks are the same)
Mizu
It might seem odd to be including “water” at the beginning – shouldn’t this be a given? Regular water maybe, but not this – at some ryotei, a special cup of water is served to guests, which in my experience was one of two things. One: brown rice-infused water, poured from a yutō pitcher; two: a cup of salted, slightly-sweet water with a “cured” sakura flower within. I believe the latter is a specialty of spring and in particular, Kyoto, given that’s when sakura bloom (always remember – kaiseki is above all else, seasonal!)
Brown rice water from Tsuruko in Kanazawa
Sake-ikken
This means “sacred sake offered to the gods”, and it is a small sake drink that is meant to be the restaurant’s way of welcoming diners into their abode. Technically, the drink is offered to the gods first, then to the diner. In my experience, I don’t know what that’s meant to look like, so I just uh…drank up. Awkward.
An example of sake-ikken at Hayashi in Kyoto
Sakizuke
The appetiser(s). The easiest way to explain this is to compare it to the amuse bouche from Western fine dining. It introduces the diner to the meal, is generally light, and creates the first impression of food.
Sakizuke from Hayashi in Kyoto
Hassun
Hassun is the second course, and chefs can get pretty liberal. Usually, it’s a sushi and/or a series of several small side dishes, intended to further ramp up appetite and setting the overall seasonal tone of the meal. Hassun may not come all at once, instead comprising a series of quick, snack-like bites of food. A fully vegetarian hassun can sometimes be interchanged with zensai – a series of vegetarian appetisers. Curious side note: the name hassun is derived from the serving dish’s side length, which is traditionally 8 inches long.
A very elaborate hassun from Tsuruko in Kanazawa
If the dish box that contains courses (not necessarily just for hassun) is square, that dish is called oshiki.
Mukōzuke
Here the chef demonstrates his slicing skills with otsukuri – a sliced dish. This is almost always seasonal sashimi, and at high-end venues, is served with the restaurant’s house-made soy sauce.
Mukozuke from Kichisen in Kyoto
Takiawase
A simmered dish of vegetables and seafood, often including tofu. The ingredients are cooked separately but served together in the one bowl. Can sometimes show up as a soup dish.
Takiawase from Hayashi in Kyoto
Agemono
Deep-fried dishes. Quite rare as they’re rather heavy on the stomach, but if served, are often small in size. Really a bite-sized snack. Usually, it’s a deep-fried fish. Think tempura, you’ll be on the right track.
Agemono from Hayashi in Kyoto
Futamono/Suimono/Nimono-Wan
“The” soup dish (one of the dishes that can’t be omitted). You know it’s here when a lidded bowl arrives. It can be confusing because some kaiseki restaurants serve several futamono. The Japanese really do love their soup. Again, vegetables, seafood and tofu dominate.
Futamono from Hayashi in Kyoto
Yakimono
A flame-grilled course that usually takes the form of fish. Yakimono will almost often include a seasonal vegetable highlight or two, and yes – tofu again. In my experience, these courses are usually gobsmackingly delicious.
Yakimono from Tsuruko in Kanazawa
Shiizakana: Aemono, Mushimono or Sunomono
Shiizakana refers to an umbrella of courses:
Aemono: often served cold, where the dressing is what’s being shown off. While I’ve come across this dish in my research for this post, I’ve actually never encountered it myself. It’s probably a summer thing.
[no picture, sorry!]
Mushimono: a steamed course, but usually omitted or replaced with more soupy dishes.
Mushimono (actually a steamed chirashizushi) from Kichisen in Kyoto
Su-zakana/Sunomono: two words: palate cleanser. More words: you might have been thinking a sorbet or something refreshing and western. Actually, su-zakana is a vinegar-centric course, think Japanese salad with dressing and you’re on the right track. More common in summer I assume, but I got it now and again.
Su-zakana from Matsukawa in Tokyo
Gohan/Shokuji/Hanmono
The second “must-have” dish in any kaiseki, this is the rice dish (gohan = steamed rice). Chefs can do a lot here, but the most common types of gohan I received were had seasonal ingredients layered on top, or the kaiseki restaurant’s take on chirashizushi. This is also the course that’s designed to fill you up, and the chef often prepares enough that you can ask for a 2nd bowl. If you’re still hungry, steamed white rice is also on standby. I never went that far though – kaiseki can be surprisingly filling after eating like a rabbit for two hours!
Gohan from Ishikawa in Tokyo
Ko no mo/Tsukemono
Pickled vegetables, again seasonal, served with the rice dish. Pickled veg is almost as commonplace as rice, so you’ll be coming across this a lot.
Ko no mo from Hayashi in Kyoto
Tome-wan
A…porridge? Basically, it’s soup that’s got rice in it, and again incorporates ko no mo. I actually only got this once, so it seems like it’s not all that commonplace in spring.
Tome-wan from Hayashi in Kyoto
Mizumono
And we’ve arrived at dessert. Typically, it’s seasonal fruit with little else prepared. Don’t think that’s meagre though – fruit in Japan is on a different level. You’ll know what I mean when you take a bite into a strawberry that cost you $20 for a punnet.
Some kaiseki restaurants serve more elaborate desserts, and the really innovative ones in Tokyo even venture into western-style fare. There are no rules in sugar land.
Mizumono (right) at Matsukawa in Tokyo
Wait, what did I just read?
Yeah…I’m still processing all of this as well. I wrote this post because I hope it will be of interest, even if nothing was retained. The best bet is to actually go out and try out a kaiseki restaurant. Unfortunately, there really aren’t many in Sydney (only Yoshii comes to mind). For the full experience, Japan is where it’s at.
Don’t worry, I know I haven’t convinced you yet – but with my next 16 blog posts, I will – stay tuned for the rest of the Japan series!
Hi! You may know me as the guy who brought you the series on the best ramen in Sydney. Why, welcome back dear reader! Looks like you and I share quite the discerning palate of carbs and fat, the source of any balanced diet.
Here’s the deal folks. For the ramen post, I covered seventeen ramen joints. That’s not exhaustive, but it was a start. I’ve upped the ante this time round, because I’m both an overachiever and a masochist, with arteries that somehow manage to remain relatively lipid-free. This time, I’m going to cover thirty burger restaurants.
Did I stutter, or are you going to wipe the stunned look off your face and click through?
Due to the sheer amount of content, I’m going to try my best to keep this short and sweet. However, I’m known for detail and depth, so let’s see just how successfully I fail at brevity.
Fret not over who invented the burger or when it was invented. Let’s all agree on something that’s axiomatically true as far as us Sydneysiders are concerned: we have damn strong burger game. There’s a reason a group like the Fatties Burger Appreciation Society (FBAS) sprung up in Sydney. I’ve been a member for some time now, and while there’s a metric ton of pointless banter and trolling in the group, members stay true to the end-game – it’s 60,000+ strong throng of pure burger lovers.
Okay, let’s stop waffling (this ain’t that kind of post) and start burgering. Feel free to skip the fluff below, but given it is my methodology, you might want to take a gander at it anyway.
The Best Burgers In Sydney – Methodology
The Visits
The visits were subject to the following conditions:
1) I made every attempt to avoid visiting during peak times. I’m here for pure burger quality, not possible dips in service or quality. While consistency, even during peak times is essential to good trade, I simply wish to find the best burger a restaurant can flip. Besides, visiting when business isn’t busy is good advice in general.
2) All visits were made when I was moderately hungry. Destroying a burger while famished may bias my results. Same with if I were stuffed.
2) Any burger joint less than 3 months old was excluded. Like people, businesses take time to mature. If you have a query on how a burger joint that isn’t listed here compares to the stalwarts, hit me up in the comments!
3) I ordered only one burger at each restaurant. This burger is the restaurant’s signature burger, or what I think is the crowd favourite (thanks Fatties!) if a signature could not identified. If I’m completely unsure, I’ll ask the staff directly – can’t get any better a rec than that.
4) The restaurant must be a permanent establishment, not a pop-up or temporary gig (there is one exception to this rule). No point raving about a burger you can’t regularly obtain.
5) This one’s controversial, but this is a beef only zone. I love a good chicken (or fish, or even vegetarian) burger, but birds and cows could not be more different. Same goes for vegetarian burgers. While not all will agree, I think I speak for most carnivores when I say the quintessential burger is a beef burger.
6) If the patties are thin (80-150g), I order it as a double. If they are gourmet (~200g e.g. Bar Luca), I ordered it as a single – Construction does affect the experience. I deferred to chef’s recommendations in instances where I felt unsure.
7) Each burger was eaten as-is: no extra toppings, sauces or whatever. Where extras are allowed as options, I did consider extra bacon. Everybody loves bacon.
8) Sides are cool, but are completely ignored for this post. The best chips in the world won’t save a mediocre burger. That’s the end of that.
Tasting notes are taken immediately after consumption – this sieve of a memory ain’t going to get in the way, that’s for sure.
The Scoring
You like sesame seed buns? I like brioche. You like your patties extra-dry? (bro, just no) I prefer them pink. See where I’m going here?
I will do my best at providing an objective and quantitative assessment on my subjective palate for each burger. In other words, nothing beyond what I normally do. However, if you end up realising your tastes don’t match mine…well I suppose you could always go back to the Fatties’ Facebook page for something that more closely matches your preferences. In the end, don’t take this post too seriously.
I will be focusing on four cornerstones: patty, condiments, buns, and construction. The patty is obviously going to be the most important aspect of a burger. Let’s score this out of ten. After that, it’s no exaggeration that it’s often the sauce and use of cheese that truly distinguishes excellent burgers from the merely good. This is out of 8. The bun comes close behind, out of 6. A burger that needs to be eaten with a knife and fork is a failed burger but could still taste good, so let’s say construction’s out of 3. Miscellany (quirks, unique selling points, how the burger tastes “all in all”) is scored out of 3. These criterion are elaborated in an Appendix, for extra interested readers.
Total possible points – 30. While there is obviously no true “king” of burgers in Sydney, those that score 20 or higher count among the exceptional.
Without further reading (have I already written half a post’s worth of words already?), BRING ON THE BEST BURGERS IN SYDNEY.
If it weren’t for FBAS, I would never have heard about Bare Grill. I’m extremely glad it got my attention, for this nondescript cafe serves up an incredibly potent meatwich, setting a high bar to beat.
It’s located at the tip of La Perouse, just a short walk away from Bare Island. That walk will be quite necessary, after you smash the trophy that is the fatties burger.
The fatties burger: double grilled grass-fed beef, bacon, cheese, pickles & house sauce ($13)
Patty:
The patties in this fatty are generous (~180-200gm) slabs of meat, with a charitable ratio of lean to fat. My burger was cooked to a solid medium tipping on the rare side, which is for all intents and purposes, practically perfect.
There isn’t enough browning on the outside (I like to have my char and my soft innards). Further, the sheer size of the patties mean that when they’re stacked as two, you’ll end up tasting lots of beefiness, perhaps even a bit too much. While possibly a turnoff for some, I’m all for beefiness (at least at this level), so all in all there’s some strong patty game here.
7/10
Condiments + Cheese:
One look at how well-endowed the fatties burger is in terms of condiments and I was sold already. There’s plenty of gooey tasty cheese to keep the burger’s flavours together, while the house sauce leans towards the more acidic side to add some bite to the burg’s flavour profile. It’s not too creamy, and thus is prone to dripping.
Overall, the flavour profile is a fairly standard tangy mayo without any gaudy spices or additions. The sauce does its job without trying to flatter the senses too much. Call it careful restraint – if you could even use that moniker to describe a burger like this.
The sauces get really drippy and creamy after just a few bites, so watch your progress!
6/8
Bun:
Bare Grill’s buns are a solid brioche sourced from Brasserie Bread. As an added bonus not found on any other burger, the cafe’s name is branded into the buns itself for that extra bit of visual effect. A cool gimmick.
The bun holds its own despite the enormity of the burger, is just sweet enough to give its own flavour to the meat and cheese when chewing, and is never too bready. It’s not as pillowy-soft as I’d like it to be, but that’s milk bun territory.
4/6
Construction:
The burger holds together beautifully, with almost nary an incident. Some bits of cheese dropped, taking a lot of sauce with it, but all in all it’s very well made for what it is.
But careful here – this burger is about as big as it gets (and might be over the line for some). Any bigger, and these minor construction issues will magnify.
2/3
Miscellany:
At only $13, the fatties burger is actually the best-value meat sandwich in the entire list. Most other burgs start at $13-$14 and that’s for a single patty. There is serious burg-for-buck goodness here, and that makes it an easy win on the Misc front in terms of prices.
Originally, Belfields wasn’t going to make the cut for this post, especially as it wasn’t really getting too much coverage via social media. But word of mouth proves to be the trump card once again – with fairly rave reviews from trusted friends on this relatively unknown burger joint.
And so, being the dutiful burger-destroying citizen I am, I marched on Botany.
Belfield Burger (double) – 2x beef patty, cheese, rocket, Vegemite mayo ($8 for single).
As it was coincidentally National Burger Day when I got my burger, the extra patty came free of charge (sweet!) I forgot to enquire on how much it would cost normally, but expect it to be somewhere between $3-$5.
Patty:
The patties are not cooked Maccas-thin, but aren’t quite at the level of gourmet burgers either. Thus, a double was in order.
Belfields was one of the remaining few burgers I had to eat for this post. At this point, most beef patties began “averaging out” in terms of flavour and texture. Belfields falls squarely into that range – it’s good, slightly above average, but not exceptional in relation to the rest we’ve got going.
The beef is cooked with a decent amount of charring that was quite acceptable by my standards. With this however, is what appears to be a medium-well inside, which meant that juiciness is not this patty’s forte.
6/10
Condiments + Cheese:
This is where Belfields really shines – Vegemite mayo. At this point, you’ve already decided whether there is a future with this burger. For me? It was love at first bite. There’s the right amount of Vegemite flavour in the mayo that brings out an earthy umami which, paired with the creaminess of the mayonnaise itself, is one of the best condiments I could wish for on a burg. This pretty much rivals Mister Gee in terms of sauce, and with that, I’ll say no more.
The only reason this section doesn’t score a perfect 8 is due to the lack of a second slice of cheese between the two patties. That was somewhat disappointing. One patty = one slice.
Oh, and rocket? While not the first green I’d think of putting in my burger, I didn’t mind it at all – its tartness was actually a nice foil to the sweetness of the Vegemite mayo.
7/8
Bun:
An unobtrusive, tasty soft bun handles the goods with the Belfield Burger. It could use more toasting, and is a little bit sweet given the sauce it encloses, but other than that – all good!
4/6
Construction:
Zero issues.
3/3
Miscellany:
Vegemite mayo combined with rocket + beef is a wicked combination. I can’t believe it took me so long to discover it!
Ah, the infamous Mary’s. Probably the most loved and hated burger in Sydney – its polarising effect is so strong you could probably apply some of it to your next pair of sunnies and get better results.
But in the end, a burger is a burger is a burger. Let’s put Mary’s through its paces like any other.
Mary’s uses fairly small patties. Thus, if you’re going to order a single-patty burger, single-handedly ditch that idea and go double. It’s where it’s at.
A blend of chuck, brisket and rump form the basis of the patties, and uh…I was definitely able to taste the “toughness”. That was actually my first thought upon biting into the burg: “whoa, this beef is pretty chewy for a patty”. Unfortunately, I don’t mean it in a good way.
It’s quite odd, actually, as the patties are visibly medium on the inside (yay!), but just didn’t taste as such (aww man). The flavour is there – a tantalising smokiness to the beef, however the texture wasn’t quite up to scratch with its grit. Not the way I like my patties.
5/10
Condiments + Cheese:
While the beef may not be pushing the right buttons, Mary’s condiments mix certainly does. Creamy Mary’s sauce is just about the right balance of sweetness and creaminess, and they are generous with it. The cheese is bloody good as well, lovingly melted over the patties, with quite an intense cheesy flavour.
Tomato I have no issues with, however the lettuce was a bit problematic – very leafy (instead of crunchy), and thus hard to actually bite through, which resulted in a few awkward mouthfuls where I was pretty much only eating lettuce as the whole leaf wants to get out in one go.
6/8
Bun:
Mary’s has quite possibly the best bun in the game. Soft, smooth, fluffy but doesn’t fall apart even when soaked in sauce. Additionally, the buns are toasted and while the effect is minimised due to sauce, that lovely char was definitely detected.
Buns are sourced from Breadtop, which probably explains it – continue doing what you’re doing!
5/6
Construction:
High levels of sauciness and lettuce that refuses to be subdivided make for a bit of an awkward eat, however construction is solid for the most part. A few minutes more (say, takeaway) and I’m sure the bottom bun would have completely fallen apart. Consume quickly!
2/3
Miscellany:
It’s a classic burger with no frills that gets the job done. One downside – $16 for a double is quite pricey (given the size of the patties).
1/3
Mary’s gets way more bad rap than it deserves. Here is a perfectly decent burger that’s still a lot better than most in the area (whether you’re in the CBD or Newtown). Sometimes, you just gotta have a Mary’s.
The ubiquity of quality burger joints in Sydney is such that Southerners need not travel far for one, when a place like Archie’s Flame Grille exists. For what it’s worth, this tucked-away eatery in Sylvania Waters also does a host of grilled chook & salad dishes, for those times when you’re not feeling like a burger.
Not quite sure what that feels like.
The Big Nash: double beef, double bacon, double cheese, lettuce, tomato, pickles, caramelised onion, BBQ sauce & Archie’s sauce ($14)
There is actually a burger on the menu called Archie’s Signature, however when I noted that their patties are thin-type, I opted for the Big Nash instead. This burger is a bit of a crowd favourite amongst male patrons, and so I believe I’m targeting the right crowd with the right burger.
Patty:
The thing about thin-type patties is that generally speaking, there is a tradeoff between a satisfying browning, versus a sense of “meatiness”. There’s more crustiness from surface char, that’s for sure, so lovers of this kind of patty will be pleased. That said, a diminished sensation of “juiciness” from a thicker patty is apparent. Personal preference will dictate more than anything else, however by including two patties, the effect is somewhat mitigated.
In the end, the patties at Archie’s sport a predominantly crusty texture profile; and got repetitive with each new bite. In terms of flavour, there wasn’t much seasoning, nor was it beefy enough. Worst of all, it was overcooked on the inside, which exacerbates a thin patty’s inherent weakness.
4/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Double cheese goes a long way to rescue an average patty, however the kitchen hands at Archie’s would have done a great service by actually melting the cheese substantially before serving. I have never found myself in a circumstance where I thought unmelted trumped melted, and that holds true here. If I can still taste the cheese’s chewy texture to a significant degree, then it hasn’t melted enough.
As for sauces, it’s a mixture of BBQ and that “secret sauce”, resulting in a prevailing sweet & sour combo, with a slight hint of smokiness. It’s personally not my kind of sauce for a burger, and perhaps could go well with BBQ’d meats instead. Again, personal preference, but the sauce didn’t really work well with my palate.
While burger enthusiasts seem to have a fairly hardline preference on whether salad vegetables are allowed or not in a burger, my view is that they’re okay – as long as they have some value to add, or at the very least, don’t detract from the experience.
Considering how sauce-heavy the Big Nash is, I’m actually glad for the presence of salad. Not only does the green & purple enliven the burger’s looks, but provide a modicum of refreshing crunch as one plows through the sandwich. It certainly didn’t hurt, that’s for sure.
4/8
Bun:
A standard sesame seed bun features on Archie’s burgers. My issue with these kinds of buns is that they’re significantly more “bready” than a milk bun or a lightly sweetened brioche. As such, the bun over-contributed to the texture of the burger, and thus doesn’t do well here. However, kudos to Archie’s for not using oversized buns, so the severity of this issue is somewhat alleviated.
4/6
Construction:
The burger is very well-constructed, despite the swathe of ingredients within. It holds up well, and sure, there’s a fair bit of dripping sauce, but all in all I had no particular qualms.
3/3
Miscellany:
Despite my personal issues with individual elements of the Big Nash, the burger does come together quite well and tastes nice for what it is.
2/3
A decent burger that I wouldn’t have trouble recommending if you’re in the area. If you’re on a burger pilgrimage and are willing to travel, there are certainly better options out there.
Say what you like about Neil Perry’s Burger Project, but his true signature burger is the David Blackmore wagyu burger.Note that this isn’t the 3-hatter fine diner also by the name of Rockpool (probably re-christened to Eleven Bridge by the time you read this). This is specifically the bar restaurant on Hunter Street.
So what makes this burger one of my favourites? As Maccas would say in their ads (am I double-sinning here?) – it’s a little bit fancy.
Patty:
The beef is absolutely where it’s at with this one. For those who don’t know, David Blackmore is a small scale cattle farmer renowned for producing what is arguably the best beef to come out of Australia. Given that Australian beef is pretty darn excellent all around, this is quite an achievement. Top-of-the-line Blackmore wagyu can sell for over $200/kg.
Putting this kind of beef into a burger would seem completely nonsensical, as the difference would be minimal when minced up and served as a burger, masked by sauce and cheese and the rest of a burger’s goodies.
Or is it?
I can taste the difference. This is an incredible patty in almost every way – a marvellously crusty exterior, a pink and juicy centre, and enough interspersed fattiness such that there’s a most heady sense of “beefiness”, that all too often I don’t taste in other patties.
The only downside? Well, after having eaten this burger more than 15 times (no joke), I do occasionally notice consistency issues where the patty isn’t as pink as it could be, or slightly haphazard in shape. However, it’s great even on a bad day, standing tall amongst Sydney’s other burger legends.
9/10
Condiments + Cheese:
With Gruyere & Zuni pickles, Rockpool is not above adding a little dash of class to its signature burger. Gotta justify that $24 price tag somehow, right?
Personally, I’m not going to pretend I can taste a massive difference in using gruyere over more traditional burger cheeses, other than that it is just as good, and works well with the decadent patty. The pickles are a bit of a special recipe (see the link) that Perry appropriated from a cafe in San Francisco, and deliver wholesome, satisfyingly juicy crunch and a high concentration of acidic tang.
Actually, it’s a bit too tart for me, so I would ask for fewer pickles personally.
There’s also a restrained spread of something akin to a spicy tomato jam that ties it all together. It’s fresh and tangy, with a bit of a kick.
Fancy ingredients for a standard result; I would say costs can be reduced by using more standard condiments, but that might take away from the “gourmet” feel of the burger. Take that as a positive or a negative.
6/8
Bun:
Brioche gets a bad rap with burgers because it’s often just a tad too sweet, thus unbalancing the flavours for the rest of the burger.
However, when a brioche’s sweetness is reigned in, it becomes an invaluable companion. The specimen in the David Blackmore burger is indeed a tad sweet, but not to the point where I felt its other qualities aren’t worth it. It was fluffy, held the burger’s ingredients together extremely well, and always complemented, rather than detracted from the patty and the cheese. Just that little bit sweet.
I do sometimes feel that the bun is perhaps just a little too big for the burger within, in terms of bread-to-meat ratio, a slightly more compact bun would do nicely.
4/6
Construction:
Essentially perfect. No, it’s not Neil Perry magic, it’s simply solid construction from not overcrowding the burger, and laying out the ingredients in the right order.
I’ve never had a construction issue with the Blackmore burger, full stop.
3/3
Miscellany:
Crispy bacon by default? Extra points! Also, serving the burger with lettuce and tomato on the side is a smart move – completely killing the “salad in a burger?” argument.
I do take issue with a burger that costs over $20, but clearly I don’t listen to myself, given how many times I’ve visited, specifically for the burger. Still, I can see how it can be a turnoff for some.
Five Points has established itself firmly as one of the best burgers in North Sydney. No big surprises when you find out that the head chef is big bloke Tomislav Martinovic, a fine dining chef-turned-burger flipper. I highly enjoyed my experience at his eponymous restaurant before it closed down. However, it took me far longer to actually get myself to Five Points.
It isn’t for lack of trying – you see, they’re only open on weekdays, and trade during lunch only (with the exception of Friday nights). For someone who’s a CBD worker, getting to Tomislav takes nothing short of taking a day off – all to have a burger.
A solid patty makes for a solid burger. Five Points utilises the “smash patty” method, which is exactly what it sounds like. By “smashing” the patty in grilling, there is greater contact between bits of meat and the pan, greatly improving that oh-so-desirable browning, or Maillard reaction. At Five Points, the patties are also thick enough such that tender innards remain a reality.
At Five Points, this results in decently beefy, medium-sized patties with MAXIMUM browning. While there is a bit of tenderness, I’d have preferred just a little bit extra, which would also enhance its juiciness.
While there’s very little “ooomph/beefiness” in the patty, it’s definitely extremely well-executed, technically speaking.
7/10
Condiments + Cheese:
The Double Bronx doesn’t hold back on the cheese – while it’s called the double, the cheese is assuredly on the triple, melted over the patties (and in between) for maximum, heart-clogging “awww yeah” goodness. I wouldn’t call the Bronx a cheeseburger per se, due to the salad items, but it’s not a stretch to say it out-cheeses most true cheeseburgers out there.
An onion relish brings a bit of smoky-sweeness to the burger, which is all well and good, until pickles come into the picture. See, these were a bit off to me, tasting far too watery and with a paucity of acidity. If you’re a fan of pickles you won’t be impressed, and if you don’t like pickles in the first place…well you can still do without these.
As for the sauce…it’s lacking something that gives the burger a profile that distinguishes itself from the competition. A certain potency, a certain uniqueness was lacking.
5/8
Bun:
Brasserie Bread makes plenty of showings in this post in also supplying the buns for Five Points. I wasn’t able to determine with confidence whether they were milk buns or brioche but if I had to guess, I’d say they leaned closer towards brioche. While they look fragile, they held well, and delivered just the right amount of breadiness such that there was a congenial balance between the buns and what they enclosed. They’re not overly malleable or soft, but definitely a far cry from sub-par, plain white rolls.
The most important thing? They’re not overly bready.
5/6
Construction:
There is some spillage of sauce, and bits of cheese will inevitably drop off, but overall the burger is well constructed, despite packing in so much goodness. Not much to say on this one.
2/3
Miscellany:
Overall, Five Points produce a solid burger in the form of the Double Bronx. Triple cheese is a bonus, and the smash patty technique is something that will appeal to many burger enthusiasts. The burger tasted quite nice overall, however lacked a bit of “x-factor” that could have been brought about by a more potent sauce.
2/3
I would definitely recommend Five Points in any burger pilgrimage.
I’m guilty of sometimes using the word “institution” a little too liberally. Few restaurants truly deserve the term, but Paul’s deserves to be labelled as such more than any other venue on this list.
Operating since 1957, Paul’s is considered by many to be the “iconic Aussie burger”. Clearly the critics think so too – it’s won nearly as many awards as the number of years it’s been in business.
They do a slew of burger combinations, but the one to get? That’ll be The Works.
Paul’s Famous Works – egg, bacon, cheese & pineapple ($11.2)
Patty:
While many design choices set the burgers at Paul’s apart from the rest, their patties are perhaps the most unique aspect. Unlike almost every other char-broiled, beef-cuts patty in this post, Paul’s opts for a sausage mince patty.
This is a pretty divisive move, all things considered. Not even Vic’s is “that” different, but Paul’s clearly couldn’t care less. Here’s the deal – if you like the sausage in a McDonald’s sausage & egg McMuffin, you’ll definitely like what Paul’s has on offer. If not? Your loss.
Personally, I dig it. While I don’t believe it’s the best patty to put in a burger (it lacks the crucial textural aspects of a browned exterior and tends to be a bit chewy relative to the crumbliness & juiciness of a hand-crafted patty), it works well enough in The Works that I can say I quite enjoyed it. Though the texture of the sausage patty is suboptimal given the context of the burger, it is quite tasty – a front that quality sausage mince has always been pretty good at.
6/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Paul’s choice of additions and cheese is for me, the burger’s weakest link. The biggest offender is lettuce – nothing against the veg itself, but there’s just far too much of it. At times, I felt like I was eating bread and salad. Sigh.
The cheese unfortunately didn’t help either. Both my friend and I were wondering if we actually ended up eating any cheese, before reviewing photos and realising that indeed, there was a slice in there. It was that unnoticeable.
At least we could taste the pineapple! Though you might want to veto this if you have strong views about including fruit in burgers.
All in all, not a ingredients mix that floats my boat.
3/8
Bun:
Whilst bready-looking at the outset, the buns at Paul’s are actually quite soft. They’re not too thick, and thus stay out of the way of the internals.
On the other hand, they’re not particularly interesting buns either. Very little flavour from the bread is lent to the burger, and thus it’s a bun for the sake of being a bun, just not a particularly outstanding one.
3/6
Construction:
Well constructed, though I got some spillage from the liberal amount of shredded lettuce.
2/3
Miscellany:
Serving a burger with a sausage patty is pretty out there, and at just a tick over $10, this is probably the most value-oriented burger in this entire roundup. You get an awful lot for your dollar.
3/3
I don’t know about award-winning, but Paul’s continues to draw a crowd to this day. Frankly, that’s all that matters for them. As for me, I’ve yet to find my go-to burger down south.
Warren Turnbull’s had one hell of a ride over the last few years. From the ashes of his French restaurant Assiette, rose the phoenix of Albion Street Kitchen. Except not really, because the latter literally burned down, and so the real phoenix is Chur Burger. A fine dining chef turned to flipping burgers? Eh, it’s not the first time (see Five Points).
Chur made waves when it first landed; it was just so much better than what most burger joints were dishing up, truly worthy of praise. As the years went by, burger quality in Sydney went up across the board, and Chur’s significance waned. In fact, some would go so far to say that Chur is hardly competitive anymore due to a combination of improved competition, as well as Chur’s own quality taking a hit.
While I’ve been to Chur many, many times in the past, there was a 1.5 year gap or so between my last visit and the one for the purposes of this post.
In all my visits I’ve not seen a smaller patty. You can clearly observe that it pales in size compared to the bun (which is of normal size, by the way). This is very disappointing, and an instant markdown in my books, especially as my friend’s spicy beef burger (same burg + spicy sauce) sported a similarly hobbit-sized patty.
It’s a shame, because they actually still taste as great as I remember them to be (that is – really bloody good). Truly medium-rare, pink on the inside, extremely juicy (not dry in the slightest), flavourful, and with toasty browning on the outside.
Yet, so small, and unfortunately my score must follow.
5/10
Condiments + Cheese:
It’s simple stuff here but it works a treat – arguably the best part of Chur’s Classic is the sauce. A simple, but highly effective tomato jam & mustard mayo that brings adequate amounts of both flavours, and doing so in a balanced manner. The pickles are some of the best yet, equal in stature to McClure’s as far as my palate is concerned, full of watery crunch and sharp acidity.
The cheese amply covers and flavours the patty (though given its size, that isn’t an achievement), and is well-melted.
My one negative comment about the condiments is that due to the patty’s uncharacteristically small size, there’s proportionally more sauce than required, and thus, it’s a very saucy burger at any point where I wasn’t taking a bite of patty…which was around 1/3 of the time. I love the gloop, but I want beef to go with it.
6/8
Bun:
A nice, but un-toasted brioche is the bun of choice at Chur, and holds together the burger without any yielding to the copious amount of sauce within. The bread is a bit spongy in nature, collapsing fairly easily, allowing for a good hold. In terms of taste, it’s pretty much your standard brioche – subtly sweet, somewhat buttery.
It’s good, I just wish it were toasted.
4/6
Construction:
No problems here, though I wonder how things would be different if the burger was “full-sized” the way it’s meant to be…
3/3
Miscellany:
No real points here, except that Chur has managed to make a simple beef & cheese burger taste really quite nice, in spite of an under-sized patty. Funnily enough, I find that worth commending.
1/3
If Chur fixes its patty size issue, it would still remain one of my top burgers in Sydney – it’s simple, it’s clean, and the fundamentals are down pat. Maybe they’ll do well in serving sliders…
What is it with beaches and burgers? Something truly Australian, that’s what. Manly already has Papi Chulo, but other than that (and the inevitable Maccas), what else is there?
Enter BenBry Burgers. They have a shop in Dee Why, but Manly is it all began. It’s seemingly popular amongst footballers, given the number of signed posters and photographs of players from bygone days.
Well darn, fair enough – given the size of the burgers, it’s no wonder why these folks gave BenBry’s the seal of approval for a refuel.
Patty:
BenBry’s patties are cooked to a juicy medium, with perhaps a slight edge towards well. I quite like these, but there isn’t any single aspect that stands out – it’s just a well-rounded patty. There’s decent char, decent flavour, a decent level of beefiness and the portion size is – you guessed it – decent. No point using a bigger stock of adjectives here when decent really does cover it all.
If there were ever a “baseline” patty, this would be it. Not bad at all, just not exceptional at any particular metric. Still, I quite liked it!
6/10
Condiments + Cheese:
As you may have noticed, BenBry’s Tappy is a beast in size. Unfortunately, this meant that the token two included slices of cheese don’t end up doing enough to fully address the beef and more importantly, the bun. As a result, I didn’t really taste much cheesiness at all.
I can’t say the same for the smokey BBQ sauce & BenBry aioli though. This burger has perhaps the best implementation of BBQ sauce of any burger I’ve tried so far. Importantly – it’s not overly sweet or acidic, just about the right consistency (not too runny or creamy), and the smokiness is pronounced enough such that it causes a tangible, positive difference in taste. I really dig it. The aioli also leaves its creamy signature, though this was actually surprisingly drippy, so the BBQ sauce is where it’s at for me.
As for the lettuce and tomato – a welcome touch to soak up all that aioli. It however did make for a few very wet bites.
6/8
Bun:
I don’t like this bun. I really don’t. It’s huge, overly bready, incredibly tough (at times I was literally using teeth to pull the bread apart), and quite dry. The only positive I can think of is that it holds the burger together quite well. That’s all I have to say here.
2/6
Construction:
You’d expect it to be quite solid due to the oversized bun, but I still had bits of lettuce and a large volume of sauce falling out of the burger. A bit surprising, but manageable.
2/3
Miscellany:
It’s a big, big burger but other than that, it’s your classic combination of classic ingredients. Points to the BBQ sauce as standout.
2/3
The bun really let this burger down. It could have been great, but it is merely nice. If a massive, tough bun is your style, then BenBry’s is going to hit the nail on the head for you.
Along with Paul’s, Bonarche definitely qualifies for institution status. It’s almost scary reviewing a place like this, as those who swear by it, swear by it. Anyone else’s opinion is frankly invalid. Whelp, I’m going to give it a try anyway. Besides, it’s about time I got my burger-loving face to the Norton Street stalwart.
There is almost no chance you will find a burger you won’t like at Bonarche, as they have a seriously impressive range. They even do steak burgers, should you be into that.
As for me? Naturally we’re talking about the Bonarche Burger. A giant monster which pretty much has the works thrown in:
Bonarche’s strength is that the chefs have worked as butchers, and in the meat industry overall for decades. As such, one would expect that the produce, especially the patty, would be exemplary.
There’s no real surprise here – it’s bloody good. It’s well portioned, at around 1.5cm thick or so, and satisfies the diameter of the buns as well. There’s a real sense of beefy, fatty flavour which could only come from knowing your meat and your grind. Real authentic stuff.
The only downside? The patty wasn’t cooked to a nice pink within, and thus was over. I’m a little surprised at this, as word has it that Bonarche patties are cooked to a tender pink. Texture is very important to me, so alas this could have been a near-perfect patty, but fell short.
7/10
Condiments + Cheese:
This burger has literally everything under the sun. Bacon? Oink. Onion? For sure. Egg? Check. Salad? Yup. Cheese? There better be. Beetroot? Uh huh.
And they’re all tasty as heck. Yes, even beetroot – I actually don’t mind the stuff in my burgers, though under normal circumstances I do ask for it to be removed.
Despite obvious construction issues described later, I can’t fault the quality of the ingredients that go into the burger. It’s all very fresh, vibrant, and honestly would be quite a joy to eat, if I could get my mouth around it all. You could also say that it’s textures galore, with crunch and crisp to be found with every bite.
The only downside though is that flavours do tend to get lost with so much going on. Every bite tends to taste like “a bit of everything”, and even the cheese is somewhat lost in the cacophony.
5/8
Bun:
For me, the bun is actually my least favourite aspect of the burgers at Bonarche. It’s a plain white bun (though you do get an option of wholemeal), and it’s one of the “breadiest”, thickest burger buns I’ve ever had.
I’m sure there’s a large clientele of people who love this kind of bun, as Bonarche continues to use them, but it is about as far from ideal as far as my palate goes. Very dense, very thick, and doesn’t really add anything beneficial to the burger other than sapping its flavour.
About half of this bun was left uneaten…”It’s not you, it’s me”.
1/6
Construction:
You would think that all of this is a bit too much. You’d be right. For example, it was recommended that the burger be eaten with as much wrapper around it as possible, to prevent the internals from spilling out.
That’s quite telling. I do have to give points to the advice though – when wrapped up, the contents of the burger dutifully stay within the buns for the most part. After awhile though, things began to (literally) unravel.
It’s such a busy burger, this was inevitably going to happen.
1/3
Miscellany:
I’ll say this though – get a Bonarche Burger and you’re getting value for money. At $17 bucks, this thing feeds a family, or one of me. The freshness and quality of the ingredients is also top notch, and for what it’s worth, it’s a unique proposition that’s unlike where most burgers in Sydney are headed for these days. The presence of all that salad means you don’t feel like you’re eating a heart attack, which is great.
2/3
It’s not a burger I would recommend without reservations, however it might suit you better to get another burger on their menu, such as the much tamer American cheeseburger.
“Honest burgers” is the motto of newly-opened Burgers Anonymous in Darlinghurst. No fancy toppings, no epic stacking or any other OTT, Instagram-fetching shenanigans here. The focus is on a high-quality patty – a relatively more expensive sirloin-based blend (as opposed to chuck), and of course, sauce.
The signature? A double angus beast called the Heisenburger. Say hello:
Honest to their word, this looks like a delicious burger that doesn’t try too hard.
Patty:
Hey, how about that – the folks behind Burgers Anonymous do try and live up to their promise. These patties are quality specimens. Smash patty preparation technique yields a surface landscape of crunch and crispiness, redolent of burnt ends and smokiness. The insides manage to remain somewhere between a medium and well-done, being closer to medium. It could still be a bit more tender on the inside, though that’s a perpetual wish.
As for flavour, it’s a solid infusion of beefiness right onto the palate. Real fatty, real flavoursome. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was at least 30% fat in here. So bad, so good.
One of the better patties we’ve got going here.
7/10
Condiments + Cheese:
The cheese game is strong here, with more than enough of the melted goodness that reached every nook and cranny. It also provides a great deal of flavour, which is a bucket of win.
Inclusion of chewy, at times crunchy, and sweet-tasting bacon provides the second layer of flavour. Given the right quantity of it (just enough) no wrong can be done here.
The sauce is surprisingly the weak point, given Burgers Anonymous’ focus on this aspect. I personally found that there wasn’t enough on my burger, thus forcing the patty, cheese and bacon to do most of the heavy lifting in flavour delivery. Not that the effort was poor, however this prevents me from saying that the burger absolutely kills it on the condiments train.
6/8
Bun:
A really bloody good milk bun that’s greasy, soft and a joy to eat. This is the kind of bread you can compress to 1/5 its original size and just pop it in your mouth, making for an excellent snack. It isn’t toasted, but that almost doesn’t matter. It’s such a “dirty” bun that perfectly fits the greasy theme of the Heisenburger.
5/6
Construction:
Took a minute to get the right grip around the thing, but once hand positioning is solidified, it’s all roses going forward. No construction issues to report!
3/3
Miscellany:
One of the greasier burgers you’ll be eating. Bring wet wipes. Worth it? Absolutely
1/3
These days, good burgers are good because they go above and beyond with experimentation, or are simple recipes with exacting attention to detail in order to differentiate from the competition. Burgers Anonymous squarely falls into the latter camp. It is worth a stop on any burger pilgrim’s burger-smashing crusade.
When a burger joint is featured in Broadsheet, Timeout and Gourmet Traveller, consider my interest piqued.
But then, as the burgers made their way to our table, my heart sank and withered away to a size not too dissimilar to the patties shown in the picture.
Don’t get me wrong, I really tried to showcase the Double Shed burger in the best light possible, but the reality is that these patties are up to 30% smaller than the buns that enclose them. It was a similar faux pas to what Chur Burger did, and it can’t have been a coincidence as both me and my friend’s burgers sported these miniscule dabs of beef.
Visually, it’s very disappointing. To add salt to the wound, the patties don’t redeem themselves in taste – they’re cooked far too well-done, tasted dry, and quite noticeably burnt. I’ve made it evident that I love my patties browned, but this is next level – that of black char.
If there is any redeeming factor, it’s that they still had a bit of beefy flavour, which I caught every now and then when I wasn’t tasting the bitterness of over-grilled beef.
3/10
Condiments + Cheese:
2x cheese was promised, only 1x cheese was delivered – no 2nd slice in between the patties. I can forgive them on the basis that this could be a mix-up, however it nevertheless does drastically affect the burger even more than it is already ailing. The extra-dry beef could have used a cheese helping, but it just wasn’t there.
Shed sauce is pretty nice though – almost like a yoghurt-y aioli, and packs quite a punch of fattiness and flavour. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough of it, especially considering how dry the patties were.
5/8
Bun:
Also not helping are the buns. Not only are they visually unappealing, they tasted commensurate to supermarket burger buns, and potentially worse. Thick, dry and bready, this is bun faux pas #1 in my books. Add to that the miniaturised patties and it’s a bread sandwich with a side of meat.
2/6
Construction:
It does hold together well – no doubt about that.
3/3
Miscellany:
Nothing redeeming.
0/3
You win some, you lose some. Perhaps The Burger Shed was better in its heyday. Some will say that a second chance should be given – however given that there are faults in almost every category, it would definitely be a “most improved” situation for me to recommend The Burger Shed. I won’t chance it a second time, there are simply much better choices to be found in Sydney.
The burgers are literally made in batches at Batch Burgers at Kirribilli. I don’t know why I led with that, but please bear with me.
Batch is a conveniently located American diner-style burger/cafe joint just two minutes from Milson’s Point. And yeah, they do burgers. While their most popular is the Brooklyn burger, the signature decidedly remains the namesake Batch Burger.
The Batch burger – hickory sauce, cheese, tomato, lettuce with root beer caramelised onion ($14)
Patty:
The patties size up in quite the gourmet fashion, easily equating to two patties from other burger joints like Mary’s or Archie’s. As such, one is the optimal configuration.
As the patty is quite large, you’d think there’s optimal provisioning for a nice, juicy medium to medium-rare patty. Unfortunately, that’s not what you get. Instead, I could, without a shadow of doubt, taste how well-done it was. It’s fairly dry as a result, and there wasn’t much flavour to back it up. At least, it’s meaty?
4/10
Condiments + Cheese:
The key player here is the sauce. Batch uses hickory BBQ sauce, which emphasises more on beer and vinegar as the foundation instead of tomatoes. At Batch, this results in a sweet, slightly astringent BBQ-tasting sauce with a tinge of sour (I couldn’t actually taste much vinegar – which is a good thing). That said, it’s still essentially BBQ sauce, which for me doesn’t quite stand up as well as mayo does.
As for the cheese, I felt that it was somewhat lost in the dryness of the beef patty. I was barely able to taste it, which is a shame as it would have definitely helped bring some life back into the patties.
The best part of the burger for me is the caramelised onion. While it’s not a preponderantly great example of it, the flavour is still unmistakably that sweet, browned char.
4/8
Bun:
A little bready for a brioche bun, but otherwise quite nice and never gets in the way of the rest of the burger. It’s also toasted which adds a little bit of sweetness and smokiness, which I always appreciate.
4/6
Construction:
The sauce is almost definitely going to drip – there’s heaps of the stuff and it likes to get everywhere. Thank goodness for buns with integrity!
2/3
Miscellany:
Fairly standard burger here, though the usage of hickory BBQ sauce is a unique selling point.
1/3
Total score: 15/30
In the grand scheme of things, given Sydney’s strong competition, Batch isn’t really acing the burger game. However, it still looks to be a local favourite given its audience, and I’ve had other burgers on the menu which actually do taste even better. Go with the flow of what you like, and you’re likely to find something up your alley.
Still a relative newcomer in Sydney’s burger scene, Jacks in Newtown did not have an easy start (as exemplified in my early review). Unrealistic comparisons to Shake Shack led to inflated expectations which, when combined with teething issues ubiquitous to any new restaurant opening, could only lead to disappointment, mediocrity at best.
But now, a few months down the track, Jacks continues to fight on despite the initial negative reviews. It was a good burger to begin with (I would know – I visited shortly after opening), but a much more recent visit has led me to ask the question – can we give it the “most improved” award already?
Double Bacon Cheeseburger ($17)
Patty:
With a custom blend from acclaimed butcher Vic’s Meat, you’d be hard-pressed to fault the patties at Jacks. The fundamentals are solid, with a high fat/lean ratio (probably around 25/75 – 30/70) that really allowed one to taste the beef. As the patties are somewhat thicker at a gourmet-level, there’s allowance for a lot of juiciness.
At the same time, still a fair bit of browning on the outside. Oh yum – one of the best patties in the game.
8/10
Condiments + Cheese:
It’s pretty jolly here as well. The standout addition is the bacon, which is unique amongst the burgers here in that it’s quite heavily smoked. While smoked bacon may not be for everyone, it worked quite well in giving another dimension of flavour to the beef – something I thoroughly enjoyed. It’s more along the chewy kind than the crispy kind, which is not quite my thing, but it’s not a major nitpick.
Jacks doesn’t hold back on the cheese either – two slices of the good stuff keeps everything very gooey, creamy and – for the lack of a better word – cheesy.
The sauce (aka “Jack sauce”) is akin to a sweet mayo. Nothing special here, but it does the job well. There is a lot of the stuff. A saucy burger this is!
6/8
Bun:
Jacks follows Shake Shack’s footsteps in using a potato bun which results in a good deal of starchiness. There’s also a particular sense of butteriness, which appeals on flavour but less so for heaviness.
While the overall feel of the bun is that it’s a bit heavier, at least it isn’t the tough bread that I dread.
4/6
Construction:
Pretty decent for the most part. A piece of bacon fell out due to its chewy nature, and there’s a lot of dripping sauce, but other than that no major mishaps. You will need napkins (plural) afterwards though.
2/3
Miscellany:
Smoked bacon & potato buns sets Jacks apart from the rest. Very satisfying.
3/3
Jacks makes a mean burger, for which on the whole is far greater than the sum of its parts. Everything is just very nice when put together; a burger that’s well worth the grease it’ll leave on your hands…and face. A real shame that they’ve been downvoted so much during their early days. It may be something they never recover from – but here’s hoping they do. They deserve true plaudits now.
Patrick Friesen is the larger-than-life pitmaster-cum-burger maestro behind Manly’s waterfront Papi Chulo. While this restaurant is worth visiting in general, burger fiends need not be disappointed with the eponymously named Papi Chulo Burger
This was determined, by public opinion, to be the best burger in Merivale’s entire lineup of chefs at its “Between Two Buns” event earlier this year. Wow, that’s a tall order, but how’s it stack up to the best of the rest?
Patty:
Matey, matey, matey – this is some meaty, meaty, meaty goodness going on here. Few could say Patrick Friesen lacks skill with beef, and I’m not about to join that particular niche. If you’re waiting for me to complain about the Papi Chulo burger, it won’t be in this section.
This is one of the rarer patties where there’s a solid amount of browned exterior, whilst maintaining a velvety pink inside. It’s a patty good enough to eat separately without sauce – good test in and of itself. They’re also quite sizable, so you don’t really have to go double here, but it is one heck of a popular option amongst blokes, including yours truly.
It’s not all medium-rare rosiness though – whilst the patty is pinkish on the inside, the overall mouthfeel is actually not all that juicy. It’s a bit drier than what I would have expected with a patty like this, especially given its size. It’s not a big deal, but it’s noticeable enough. That said, bloody great beef nonetheless.
8/10
Condiments + Cheese:
It’s a daring thing when Papi Chulo decides that you don’t really need a special sauce to go on your burger, sufficing on just cheese, bacons and salad veg.
Call me traditional, but I still think a “just right” amount of sauce needs to be applied to give a burger distinction. In this respect, by not featuring a sauce, Papi’s burger falls slightly short. In fact, this is likely why the beef patties tasted a bit less juicy.
There’s a decent amount of salad on the burger, about right for the double. I think that if the same amount were included for the single patty version, it would be just a little too much.
As for the pickles, they’re very watery and not particularly flavoursome. They tasted better when I took them out and ate them separately. The pickle on the side is a nice touch.
The best part on the condiments front? The cheese and bacon. The former is zealously melted over the patties, while the bacon is some of the crispiest I’ve had in a burger. It’s almost like guiltily nibbling away at a snack while eating a burger at the same time
5/8
Bun:
The sight of sesame seeds on the Papi burger’s buns might raise alarms but fret not, this ain’t a stock standard white bun. It’s texturally far closer to a brioche, and as a bonus, is toasted to boot. The fluffiness and crisp burnt edges are golden. That’s three boxes ticked!
5/6
Construction:
Due to the thickness of vegetables (Papi’s one of the few burgers in this post to include tomato inside the burger), the double Papi burger teeters on the edge of holdability. It did get easier the more of it I ate. It’s just a bit less than pleasant when lettuce assaults the face
Note appropriate holding technique: hands cupping the back of the burger, so ingredients go towards your mouth, rather than falling out.
2/3
Miscellany:
The Papi burger is like a cheeseburger on steroids, and that’s mostly a good thing – except for the price. At $26, it’s the most expensive burger on this list. While I would pay for a good burger (cf. Rockpool), $26 for a double (and indeed even $20 for a single) patty burg without any unique/expensive ingredients is quite frankly, a difficult price to swallow.
1/3
$26 is not a lot of money in an absolute sense to most people, but contextually? It’s not an easy recommendation. However, that doesn’t excuse the fact that this is a great burger.
Vic’s has kept it clean and simple, in true homage to a cheeseburger. No salad, no nothing – just beef and cheese.
Patty:
Upon first bite: whoa, these are different. Quite possibly, the most unique patty of all the burgers on this list in both taste and texture.
Dear reader, have you heard of nem? It’s a type of Vietnamese sausage and when cooked properly, it’s deeeeeeeelicious. For those who haven’t tried it, it’s like a heavily textured sausage – bumpy bits, chewy bits, and most of all – charred bits. On the flavour side, it’s richly meaty, sweet, and in some cases, with a bit of a spicy edge to it.
That’s essentially what the patties at Vic’s are like. Not the soft, friable kind like most other good beef patties. This is a fair bit chewier, but in a way that’s not stringy or gristly. Unique, and just so “meaty”. Totally fine in the context of this burger.
Same with flavour, though here, while quite beefy in its own right – especially with a double patty – the patty’s natural flavour is emphatically presented, and really, is a taste to behold. While perhaps not the perfect patty for a burger, Vic’s makes it work.
7/10
Condiments + Cheese:
It’s kept simple here – outside the natural seasoning of the patty, it’s a classic BBQ sauce + double cheese combination. It’s basic, but it’s basically great – well, outside of the fact that the BBQ sauce adds an element of sourness on top of already zingy patties. That wasn’t as good, but the cheese is A-ok. In fact, thanks to the simplicity of the other flavours in the burger, the cheese provides a very welcome boost of, well, cheesiness which does its darn best to cut through the rest of the burger’s flavour.
6/8
Bun:
The bun is great – a soft white roll that’s pliable, resilient and soaks up the sauciness of the burger. Some toasting would be great, but that’s a wishlist item.
Stock standard stuff, the bun does its job well without rearing its head above the rest of the burg’s components.
4/6
Construction:
Fully solid. It’s an oily burger, sure, but I can’t fault its construction. That’s the reward of keeping it simple.
3/3
Miscellany:
I’ll have to give points to Vic’s on two fronts. One: the use of unique patties. Two: one of the few burgers whose signature is to keep it simple. Restraint, it’s rare and it’s refreshing.
2/3
Ultimately, it’s a great burger, and it’s definitely above average in Sydney’s lineup. It may just be your thing!
The folks at Chinese-Mexican fusion restaurant-bar Barrio Burgers (Kings Cross) and Barrio Cellar (Martin Place) whip up – amongst killer drinks & tacos – a burger that’s got a bit of a Mexican twist, and is easily one of the best out there.
I’m not sure what it is, but Barrio’s patties are really, really beefy. I smelt it before I even saw it – the cows are truly coming home. They’re big, thick and juicy. Quite possibly one of the best textures in a patty.
You’ll love these. They’re not mind blowingly different or have some sort of secret seasoning, but they will absolutely satisfy with just how right they’ve been nailed.
8/10
Condiments + Cheese:
This is where Barrio differentiates itself and puts its own Mexican spin. Pickled jalapeno might be frightening to those with spice intolerance, but rest assured the kick is very minimal, not even halfway there to the jalapenos you would find on a pizza with the stuff. Besides, all that cheese and fatty beef will easily absorb any spiciness you do begin to feel. Once you get past this, you’ll be able to appreciate the zestiness of the pickled goodies, which pairs very nicely with the tangy chimichurri mayo. Of course it does – it’s Mexican, and it’s worked for thousands of years.
All this makes for a supremely creamy sauce set that’s bursting with flavour. Chuck on two slices of mandatory cheese (melted, yep), and that’s a doozy of a condiment spread that’s one of the best out there.
7/8
Bun:
The weak point would have to be the bun. It’s become softer and more malleable over the many times I’ve visited, and is indeed much better than when I first had it. That said, it’s still a fairly bready bun, without much flavour or outstanding texture. The rest of the burger is so good I could almost forgive this, but such is the nature of this edible enclosure. Not my type.
3/6
Construction:
Minor spillage issues, nothing you wouldn’t expect from a burger like this. You will have a messy finish – it’s a minimum two-napkin job.
2/3
Miscellany:
For being Sydney’s only Mexican-inspired burger, Barrio is a breath of something different. Furthermore, it’s something different that challenges the best of the rest.
3/3
Like all other burgers that score 20+, an absolute must-have.
Pub Life Kitchen, or PLK, has a solid contender for some of Sydney’s best burgers for a number of years now. The focus is on quality of beef, and an in-house salt-curing & grinding process that leads to a burger that no other venue in Sydney is quite able to emulate. It’s no wonder that they’re now opening up a second venue in Rozelle.
While you could get some great results with PLK’s other burgers (e.g. the cheeseburger or TLC), first-timers will generally be recommended the Original Gangster – so this is where the journey starts.
The O.G. – 200g beef patty, American cheese, McClures pickles, lettuce, tomato, PLK Aioli. ($15)
Patty:
I am going to be absolutely lynched for this, but I am not a fan of Pub Life’s patty. It’s flavourful and fatty, that’s all well and good. What’s a problem for me is that it’s the toughest patty I’ve had, almost rubber-like in texture.
It was a really rugged, chewy slab of meat that didn’t gel with the rest of the burger. It was difficult for me to fathom just how the mouthfeel of PLK’s patty could be like this, since even while I was eating it I could observe the medium-rare pink of the interior. How a pink patty could taste so chewy I do not know. However, I can’t help but wonder if this is how it is by default, as this was not my first visit to PLK and a previous occasion yielded similar results.
5/10
Condiments + Cheese:
While American cheese attracts bad rap as easily as it melts, I personally have no issues with its signature gooey texture and flavour. I did wish that there would be an extra slice, in order to more fully deal with the extra-large (…and tough) patty.
The aioli’s flavour is spot-on with sweetness, and is creamy enough to be an excellent tie-in with the elements in the burger. It’s good that there’s as much as there was, given that the OG features salad vegetables which need some serious flavour loving. I didn’t mind the lettuce/tomato at all, being appreciative of their refreshing nature. It did make the burger ever so slightly more difficult to eat, but you could do far worse.
5/8
Bun:
Hurrah for milk buns and every burger joint that uses them! If you’ve been reading this post in order, you’ll know I love it when the bun is soft, fluffy and almost cloud-like. Extra points when they’re still resilient and can stand up to the wear and tear of cheese, patties & sauce.
PLK’s easily lives up to all of that. I only wish the bun were toasted, but other than that I am quite happy.
5/6
Construction:
Nothing gave – not even sauce drip. Great stuff!
3/3
Miscellaney:
A traditional burger that doesn’t go for the frills. The patty is something special however. It’s definitely not my grind, but plenty of others love it, more power to them
The Morrison’s Bar & Oyster room is known for two things: a New York vibe, and oysters. What they’re not known for are their burgers. This is something that they want changed, but the fight’s not going to come easy.
The contender? Parlour Burger – an attachment to The Morrison’s that’s all about the burger. While the usual burger suspects are there, there is a distinct signature that’s also popular with locals.
The Black Widow charcoal bun, ground beef, chipotle mayo, jalapeno chilli, ground beef ($13)
Now that’s eye-catching.
Patty:
The patty in the Black Widow is seasoned a bit more than the average amongst burgers in this post. Even without much sauce, I was able to taste a distinct, spicy aroma. It’s a bit refreshing to get a burger whose patty isn’t just a beefy explosion every now and then, so this would cater well.
What I didn’t quite like about it is that it’s cooked no less than medium-well, if not well-done level. As a result, it’s fairly dry. To be fair, it could be worse, as there’s a particular sponginess to the patty that made it taste almost like meat loaf. I’m not saying that this is a good thing (it’s not), but it does mitigate the dryness somewhat.
All in all, a bit of an odd patty that’s got a fair bit of flavour, but I’ve got beef with its texture.
One last thing: it’s a fairly small patty compared to the buns it comes in. Minus a point for that.
5/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Chipotle mayo & jalapenos are right up my alley in pretty much every way, so I’m totally for the decision to include them in the Black Widow. It’s spicy, it’s creamy, it’s sweet and did I mention it’s spicy?
The cheese takes a back seat, which is a shame as I really could have used a bit more of the stuff. And as for the pickles…they’re a bit watery, and not all that intense in flavour. It was like eating slightly salted cucumber slices.
4/8
Bun:
Okay, you’re obviously wondering what’s up with a charcoal bun. But the reality is, there’s essentially no difference between that and a regular bun. Put a blindfold on me and I wouldn’t be able to tell.
It’s okay, on the whole of it. Not overly bready, resilient enough to hold the burger together, doing what it’s meant to do. It just didn’t really taste like anything, but I will give it credit for “cool factor”. It’s also said that limited quantities of charcoal is good for you so uh…healthy eating!
3/6
Construction:
Rock solid, though a small patty tends to help with that. No drip, nadda.
3/3
Miscellany:
Okay, it’s a black-bun burger with chipotle mayo. That’s pretty nice and worthy of a solid misc score.
Cleverly located right outside Sydney’s lockout region, The Lord Gladstone has more drawcards than just good burgers. They’ve always been known for the latter, and so there I was, ready to smash one and maybe a pint or two.
I had a rather protracted discussion with the bartender on what burger is the right one to get – it seems like every burger is a signature as far as he was concerned. As I didn’t receive too much direction, I opted for the “safety net” option of a cheeseburger…
…and made it a double.
Double cheeseburger – 2x beef, triple cheese, onion, pickle, ketchup, mustard, burger sauce on a NYC soft style bun ($20)
Patty:
A double really is the right way to go for those with a substantial appetite. The patties at The Lord Gladstone are not quite gourmet-big, but neither are they thin either. Something like 130-150g each seems about right.
And oh boy, are they good. I especially dig just how soft and “crumbly” the patties are, making for easy chewing, allowing the release of tons of fattiness with each and every bite. There’s more than enough juiciness to boot, and a small amount of char on the outside.
They’re not as “beefy” as patties from Rockpool or Mister Gee, but they’re up there.
7/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Triple cheese, a liquid waterfall. Enough said?
And, to add to that, smoky-sweet onion, actually decent pickles (crunchy, flavourful and punchy), a good amount of mustard kick – it’s all there. In fact, the only fault for me here is the domineering ketchup flavour which was a bit too much, throwing off the flavour balance somewhat. Other than that, excellente, ranking among Sydney’s best.
7/8
Bun:
From what I can gather from this sample size of one, an NYC style bun seems to be akin to a milk bun but with less integrity. The result is a bun that was on the cusp of falling apart – though that had a lot to do with the burger’s greasiness as well.
That aside, it’s a good bun – slightly sweet, and yes, its very soft.
4/6
Construction:
This is a messy one alright. Sauce & cheese, everywhere. So bad, but so good.
1/3
Miscellany:
Triple cheese even in single patty form? That’s awesome.
Tucked away in a haven of a town on the route up north is The Tuckshop, a hip cafe/burger eatery that’s reputed for its coffee – and yes – all day burgers.
I can verify that the coffee is good; as for the burgers…read on!
Make no mistake, while the cheesy isn’t a looker, it’s truly an example of what’s on the inside that counts. The sizable (180g+) patty is visibly medium-well done, however tastes a lot juicier than its looks would suggest. There’s also a good deal of crusting on the outside, with all this resulting in a texturally excellent patty.
Flavour is kept minimal, with the bulk of seasoning coming from the sauce. All in all, it’s a good patty, squarely positioned at slightly above-average. It would score a bit better if it were bigger (it doesn’t quite cover the edges), but I guess we can’t have everything.
6/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Now here is where The Tuckshop really shines. This is a balls-to-the-wall condiment mix – unapologetically strong tomato sauce, sweet, sour & crunchy pickles, and a good deal of mustard that would slap out any misconception about what you’re eating. The proportion, quantity and quality of sauces is totally the money, even if it doesn’t look it in the photo.
And of course, there’s cheese – it’s a cheeseburger. Melty goodness, I swear cheese and tomato sauce affect my brain the same way drugs do (not that I’d know what that’s like…) when whacked together between two buns.
So simple, but this is one of Sydney’s best cheeseburgers – no doubt thanks to the sauces. Satisfying to a fault!
6/8
Bun:
The second strong point of the cheesy. This is at its basics, an excellent brioche. Not too thin or thick, structurally sound and – my favourite part – it’s toasted! The sweet smokiness of charred brioche is just heaven, and while the effect in the burger is subtle overall, things wouldn’t be the same without it.
5/6
Construction:
Absolutely no issues whatsoever.
3/3
Miscellaney:
Taken together, the burger was on the money with every bite. When the ingredients are taken together, they absolutely shine!
3/3
I can’t believe a cheeseburger can taste so good. In some ways, The Tuckshop just reminds me how such a basic burger can sell so well, and indeed, proudly be touted as a signature. Simple things done right.
As far as naming conventions go, it doesn’t get simpler than this – want a good time? Go have a burger. Oh so very appropriate.
Bondi has its fair share of burger joints that I could have visited (shoutouts to Milky Lane, Bondi Tony’s and the Stuffed Beaver – I’ll visit y’all soon enough), but Goodtime won out due to its presence on FBAS.
The Good Ol’ Time – grass fed beef patty w/cheese, tomato, lettuce, pickles, GTB chutney, roast garlic dijon aioli ($11)
Patty:
The patty is, for the lack of a better word, decent. There’s a great deal of charring on the outside, and contrary to the photo, it’s actually not overcooked or burnt. In fact, there’s still a good deal of juiciness internally, which is a big tick. This is definitely one of those rare specimens where there’s a good level of browning on the outside that manages to maintain moisture within.
The only downside is that in the greater context of the burger, the patty loses some “presence” – this is primarily because it’s a little undersized relative to the bun. Not a good look (literally), and it definitely affected the burger’s taste as a whole.
6/10
Condiments + Cheese:
The condiment mix is quite simple – a sweet tomato-based chutney, a slice of cheese, heaps of lettuce & tomato and pickles. The chutney does a good job of seasoning the patty, however was perhaps lacking a bit in volume to address the vegetables in the burger. The pickles were somewhat disappointing – flat, no juicy crunch. The cheese is actually quite nice, melted over the patty.
There is something else – that deep-fried macaroni popper on top. While more gimmicky than anything else (I don’t really count it towards evaluating the burger), I’ll give credit to its richness, cheesiness and gooey-ness. That it’s deep-fried is a bonus.
5/8
Bun:
A decidedly average bun – not bad, but not a stellar example. It’s not toasted, it’s a bit dry, but on the other hand it’s not too thick, chewy or doughy. I would definitely have preferred a softer bun, especially as the rest of the burger isn’t particularly saucy.
3/6
Construction:
No issues here.
3/3
Miscellany:
Using chutney as a condiment adds an interesting textural element to the sauce, but otherwise nothing worthy of misc recognition.
1/3
A standard burger with standard fixings that won’t disappoint if you’re around the area. However, better options can be had with just a tiny bit of travel. Or alternatively, try out one of their monster specials that regularly come out.
Whoops. I said I pop-ups and temporary gigs wouldn’t be included in this post, but here I am doing it anyway. Laws are meant to be broken, right? In any case, I would be publicly flogged if I didn’t cover what is arguably the biggest name in burgers right now other than Bar Luca. Besides, while Burgers By Josh is currently in hiatus, expect him to announce a permanent dig soon.
And so I will do my thing – specifically, eating this thing:
It took forever, but I finally got to sink my teeth into The Primo.
Patty:
Josh uses a purportedly secret blend of different cuts to create a signature textured patty, with the result resembling a cross between sausage and that of a smash patty. Thus, there’s ever slightly a bit of chewiness and elasticity in mouthfeel, and less browning and charring than I would have preferred. As such, they don’t really carry much of a smokiness in flavour.
One good point is that they are cooked juicy pink in the middle – a big bonus in an otherwise good, slight-above average patty. In a world where patties may not be pink for much longer, this will eventually be sorely missed.
6/10
Condiments + Cheese:
The secret sauce used in The Primo is most like a chilli mayo – a glorious mass of gloopy, spicy kick that’s right up my alley. I totally digged this – and to me, it was a part of what made The Primo a great burger. Further to this is the “crispy AF bacon”, and I have to say – it lived up to it. This bacon ranks up there as one of the crispiest examples I’ve had, greatly enhancing the texture of the burger (in some ways, making up for the shortcomings of the patty).
The cheese is very much melted and about as yellow as Simpsons characters – good stuff.
As for the onion rings, they were decent but not great – the batter was good but the onions tended to be still a bit undercooked, and thus had a mind of their own in choosing to leave their crunchy shells and mess with my chewing.
6/8
Bun:
Josh claims that these are Sydney’s softest milk buns, and while that is definitely not the case, they are well-proportioned in thickness so they never got in the way. Only the bottom bun was toasted, and lightly at that – some more browning would have gone well here. What I am impressed at is how despite the size of the burger, the buns never showed the slightest inclination to disintegrate. Strong!
4/6
Construction:
You’d expect construction issues, and yes you do get them. They are however not egregious – some moderate sauce and cheese flow (even with good holding technique), but otherwise not too bad all things considered. One flagrant aspect I noticed was that the slice of cheese that was supposed to be between the two patties (i.e. the 2nd slice) was pushed way back such that it fell out pretty much on pick-up.
I know you’re busy Josh, but that does affect the experience in a non-trivial way.
2/3
Miscellany:
Overall, a solid burger that mostly deserves its reputation! Not 100% my kind of burger (due mainly to the sausage-like nature of the patty), but I can see why it’s beloved. I definitely wouldn’t mind trying out his other creations.
Sometimes, you just have to sin. Melbourne local Jimmy Hurlston clearly knows this, aptly naming his entry into the Sydney burger market Guilty. Let’s be honest, burgers are worth the guilt.
Guilty’s got a range of burgers to suit most palates, with the Kecksburger being the default crowd favourite. However, I learned that the patties Guilty uses are thin-type, and thus my focus shifts to the following beauty:
As far as thin patties go, Guilty’s cracked the code. These are probably the best thin-type patties I’ve had in a burger. Texturally speaking, there’s a perfectly crusty number on the outside. And, while the inside could always be a bit juicier, it was possibly as tender as a thin patty could be whilst maintaining a crumbled outer layer. Flavours are also fairly beefy, and kept that way throughout.
You can’t complain too much about a patty that gets all the simple stuff right. In essence, that’s what makes it special.
7/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Again, simple does it here – no vegetables, just loads of cheese, house sauce, and a fiery kicker of jalapenos. The cheese is classically Kraft melty, oozing all over the burgers in a most mouthwatering manner. It’s the perfect pairing with the patties. Props for including two slices – one for each patty.
As for the house sauce, it’s a no-fuss mustard ketchup that hits the spot. Again, real simple but it just works with the canvas of beef and cheese. The flavour train has no trackwork here.
The jalapenos are the biggest deviation from the norm. Obviously, if you can’t take the heat, ask for them to be removed. Otherwise, they add a very nice touch of character to an otherwise standard (but very tasty) burger.
Best part of all? That crispy bacon. Oh my goodness, so crunchy, so delicious. Some of the best bacon around!
6/8
Bun:
A strong bun that Hurlston describes as a trade secret. Fair enough – it’s a darn good brioche. Toasted to boot, it holds together everything quite well and sports a buttery sweetness that’s on the mark with brioche. I found it to be just a tad thick in the vertical dimension, but that’s a minor quibble.
5/6
Construction:
It’s a smaller than usual burger, and the layout of ingredients means that there were no issues in this department.
3/3
Miscellany:
A simple, no-frills burger that nails everything on the head. Extra crispy points to that crispy bacon and the much-welcomed inclusion of jalapenos.
2/3
Guilty is all about simplicity, something that Hurlston has feared Sydneysiders would not “get”. After all, these days, burgers like Bar Luca’s blame Canada and Burgers By Josh’s insane towers get all the attention. But you know what? I definitely get it. It’s a small, unassuming burger, but is easily one of the best because everything just works. I sure as heck want this place to stick around – if they close due to lack of interest, we’ll all be guilty for it.
Street food, but not as grandma remembers. Belly Bao is a quirkly little joint hidden away underground at Plan B Small Club, and it specialises in gua bao, a type of Chinese-style steamed bread. Bao is characterised as extremely fluffy, pillowy and soft – more so than Western-style bread.
While gua bao are strictly speaking not burgers, Belly Bao does produce a killer burger – aptly known as the baoger. It’s only available on Thursdays, but by God, expect the trade that day to be roaring.
The patty game is very strong at Belly Bao. The staff wouldn’t divulge what cuts or their lean/fat ratios are (clever ones…), but you just know when eating them that there’s a solid amount of fat in their patty for that delicious flavour. These guys may specialise in Asian flavour, but they definitely know their way around a handsome slab of meat.
It’s up there with the best, and charring gives it extra points.
8/10
Condiments + Cheese:
A generous slathering of Baoger sauce and two slices of well-melted cheese bestow upon the burger a baus-level of flavour. It’s best described as a sweet, creamy mayo, and it’s tasty enough such that the act of breathing alone will suffice your nostrils with its aroma.
As for that cheese, it’s golden, it’s melted, and it gives that extra fattiness that defines a beef burger. No qualms here.
Where there’s a bit of a twist is the inclusion of pickled radish and some lettuce to cut through all that juicy fat. As an Asian, I’m predisposed to this kind of garnishing, so I’m going to go ahead and rate this quite positively. Your mileage may differ, but you read the T&Cs, right?
7/8
Bun:
When I was eating my way across Sydney for this post, I didn’t really expect much innovation or differentiation when it comes to the bun – it’s mostly going to be either milk, brioche, or standard white buns.
But that won’t do for Belly Bao. It’s in their name. Chinese-style steamed bao is more pillowy than normal, and the result is a extremely soft, yet solid mouthfeel that’s very satisfying. People in China can literally eat bao with nothing else and be happy – as long as the bao itself is high quality. At Belly Bao, it is.
Naturally, there is a downside – and that’s detected when you try and pick up the thing. All that sauce and all that cheese does not a solid bun make. You’d better be a quick eater – it’s a race against the integrity clock.
5/6
Construction:
Whelp, here’s where things get tricky. With a creation like the baoger, it’s quite difficult to eat the whole thing without making a mess. Sure, Bar Luca is messier, but your bun is more likely to fall apart at Belly Bao, especially the bottom one.
This is the price for buns so tender you could sleep on them. It’s a price I’ve willingly paid again and again.
1/3
Miscellany:
Sydney’s only baoger, ’nuff said. Thursdays only? That sucks.
The hour-long drive to Dee Why proves that no journey is too far when it comes to good burgers. A burger temple in this part of town, they are considered by their loyalists to be some of, if not the best, Sydney has to offer.
In fact, they are so famous, you probably already know the name of the burger that’s about to come up:
The Trufflenator – double wagyu beef pattie, truffle mayo, truffle butter, truffle-infused Havarti cheese, truffle maple syrup, bacon, American cheddar, onion rings ($20)
Whoa damn.
Patty:
You could scroll down and see the score for this burger, but I’ll just spoil it right now and say that the Trufflenator is one of the best burgers I’ve had the pleasure of eating in Sydney – and that starts with the patty.
These slabs of beef are excellent. They are excellently charred for maximum exterior crunch, however retaining an excellent, juicy pink centre (I regret not taking a cross-section photo to demonstrate this), but most uniquely of all, possess an unreal smoky mouthfeel that perhaps only Mary’s gets close to replicating.
Tip top!
8/10
Condiments + Cheese:
This is where sh*t gets real. The trufflenator is truffle everything, but you’d be surprised to know that the overall truffle flavour isn’t overwhelming, nor does it dominate the burger. It’s predominantly found in the truffle mayo, but is supposedly in every other component of the burger as well. I personally love the heady aroma of truffle, so I would have actually preferred even more truffle intensity (the smokiness of the beef patties subsumed the truffle flavour somewhat). That said, this is the only reason why this doesn’t score an 8/8.
As for the cheese – there’s oodles of it, all melted, all giving the beef patties the cheesy love they deserve. Zero issues here.
As for the onion rings, they’re very crunchy and surprisingly sweet in flavour. In a rare case – these are a nice addition to the burg.
One of the best condiment mixes with which I’ve had the pleasure of stuffing myself.
7/8
Bun:
The Trufflenator continues to shine even through to the bun. It’s semi-soft, it’s not too thick and yes, it’s even toasted. Boy, it’s hard to find a good bun (to my liking at least), but here is one brilliant example right here.
5/6
Construction:
It’s a big burger, and thus a sauce waterfall may ensue. Luckily, it was only the occasional trickle here and there – use good burger-holding technique and you’ll be alright.
2/3
Miscellany:
All the components of this burger combine together to make for one of the most satisfying burgers I’ve had the pleasure of eating in recent times. Worth the drive!
3/3
The Trufflenator is definitely the newest great burger I’ve come across after the current legends of Rockpool, Bar Luca & Mister Gee. Welcome to the 25s club!
In its heyday, the humble milk bar was the venue of choice to knock back a dirty burger (or two), plus an all-too-large glass of milkshake (or two).
These days, milk bars are rarer than a dime a dozen – but Milk Bar by Cafe Ish has kept to its roots, peddling – you guessed it, the meatwich. With some fairly crazy looking concoctions spotted on social media, it was time to see if they have the fundamentals right.
Milk bar original – 120g basted house blend beef patty, double american cheddar, onion, BBQ sauce, pickles, aioli, onion rings ($9.5)
Let’s get into it.
Patty:
The patty is best described as “a whisker off well done”. Not a great start, though as far as well-done patties go, this one was okay to eat, especially as it was well-charred. Loooot of crunch and burnt bits.
Its flavour is a bit lacking, requiring the BBQ sauce to bring it to life. There’s not much sense of “beefines” either, and thus the patty is ultimately mediocre.
5/10
Condiments + Cheese:
The included slice of cheese is very welcome and, oh yes, comes melted. It packs quite a cheesy kick – whenever I ended up biting into a piece. I feel that the burger, given its ingredients required a second slice.
In a bid to be a bit different, Milk Bar includes crunchy onion rings within, as well as above the burger. The rings within pack a very addictive crunch that you can hear a mile away, though for some reason the rings on top were more or less devoid of flavour – the batter tasted particularly neutral, and even doughy.
As for the sauce? It was a bit of a letdown – it really is just BBQ sauce. Sure, It is a stalwart and there’s nothing wrong with using it. However, when stacking up against the best burgers in Sydney, chefs are going to do more than just use smoky BBQ. In this sense, it’s a decent condiment but that is very dull, relatively speaking.
5/8
Bun:
On the plus side, there isn’t much bun, so the ingredients shine through more. On the minus side, it’s quite a bready bun for what it is. Relatively tougher than most buns in this post, getting through the Milk Bar Original really works the teeth. Not that I’m saying it’ll tire your jaw (it won’t get close), but it’s not the easiest chewing experience due to the bun’s toughness – as well as the beef patty’s overcooked nature.
3/6
Construction:
Practically perfect – no leakage, buns contain the burger well, you can (barely) eat it with your two hands. The onion rings do however need to go off.
3/3
Miscellany:
Onion rings? I’ll pay that. It’s also one of the cheaper burgers on this list for what you get. That deserves credit.
2/3
The Milk Bar Original is a burger with a difference. It’s dizzyingly Australian, and isn’t afraid to be that way. While it’s not my idea of an incredible burger, it clearly has its audience.
Ah, Mister Gee, proving once and for all that a food truck can compete with the best of them. Currently located in Haberfield from Thursdays-Saturday nights, getting there for me takes no less than a 45-minute drive. It’s a drive I’m very, very familiar with.
No point keeping up the suspense act – this humble little truck produces one of my top 3 burgers in Sydney.
And what is that burger, you ask? Why it’s The Truffe, of course.
The Truffe (double w/bacon) – The Truffe – beef, American cheese, caramelised onions, pickles and secret sauce ($15)
Pronounced as in “truth”, the Truffe is wordplay – the truth can be found in truffle. In Mister Gee’s case, you won’t find chunks of actual truffle in their burgers (otherwise they’d cost a ton), but rather a truffle-infused sauce. Bacon is also an option, but not by default.
Patty:
Mister Gee’s patties average out at around 150-180g, and are marvellous. They are the best practitioner of the smash patty method that I’ve come across, and the result is a piece of meat that’s practically breathable in terms of its tenderness. They are a joy to eat, full of bovine flavour, and truly full on in fattiness, utterly satisfying. Pretty much one of my favourites when it comes to beef done right.
I had to think really hard for a downside, and I suppose it comes back to char. I could use a little more, for a texture boost. However this is a minor quibble.
Cows will not die in vain for this burger.
8/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Perfection. One of the only burgers to receive a perfect score in this category, it’s all down to that truffle aioli – or “secret sauce”, as it were. I understand that the aroma of truffle is acquired, so for those who aren’t there yet, the score here may as well be a 4/8. For the rest of you, it’s pure heaven.
The aroma is heady, the flavour is powerful, and texturally it’s a creamy sauce that finds its way into every nook and cranny of the burger. Words can’t really describe truffle, but “earthy” is a good start. In the end, you just have to try it to believe it. It’s irresistible.
To this day, I still have no idea what “American cheese” is, but I suspect its reputation isn’t great as it’s often referred to as those sickly-yellow squares of “I’m pretty sure this isn’t even cheese”. Regardless, whatever Mister Gee is putting in there is absolutely fine as it is. It’s cheese, it’s melted, it’s gooey, it’s good.
Caramelised onions and pickles round out the rest, but I’ve spent enough words here – let the score do the rest of the talking.
8/8
Bun:
Brioche buns feature as Gee’s weapon of choice. They’re not too sweet, a little denser than average, but sized such that a double patty will ensure a satisfactory ratio. Indeed, I’ve found that a single patty Mister Gee burger is a little too heavy on the bun, but a double completely mitigates this issue. It’s how most people order it, and you should too.
Other than that, I really wish the bun would be toasted more, but alas, it’s not often that this happens. Thus, a point of preference & improvement.
4/6
Construction:
Even with optional bacon, The Truffe will hold up in construction. There’s some spillage, but the patties don’t slip, and the buns maintain strong control over the innards.
2/3
Miscellany:
That this burger is a godsend without having to resort to insanely over-the-top gimmicks is laudable. There are truffle burgers, and then there is the Truffe. Can you handle it?
Also, there’s something to be said about slaying burgers at the side of Parramatta Road, in a car wash. It makes the burgers taste just that little bit better. So romantic.
Philosophers often like to say that the only certainty in this universe is that “I perceive”. But you know what comes close? That any serious dissertation on “burgering” is certainly invalid unless it includes discourse on Bar Luca.While these guys may be known for their rotating weekly burger specials (see here for some past examples), their crown achievement, that has since been immortalised in the Fatties’ Hall of Fame (this doesn’t exist yet but it so should) is the Blame Canada. I’m pretty sure I don’t even need to describe this burger as you, dear reader are likely already aware of it. But here’s a picture anyway:
Blame Canada 200g beef pattie, maple glazed streaky bacon, American cheese, poutine & maple aioli ($16)
Yeah, the Canadians were onto something alright.
Patty:
Bar Luca’s patties are big. Not stupidly so, but they top the scales as far as the burgers in this post go. At 200g apiece, you may want to think real hard if you want a second one. Just so you know, it’s recommended that you only start out with a single if this is your first time – there’s already enough going on with this burger.
As for the patty itself, a 200g mish-mash of beef lends itself to one heck of a juicy, pink interior. While quality does tend to vary (inevitable when you’ve had the Blame Canada as often as I have), more often or not I’ve received a patty that’s most luscious. As a personal preference, I would prefer a little extra charring/browning on the outside.
One particular downside that’s unique to Bar Luca is that its patties often exhibit an element of gristle. It’s not much, and it’s not a dealbreaker, but it’s notable because it’s one of the few burger patties in this post that displays it.
Not a perfect patty, but still a really meaty and delicious one. A great sponge for the Blame Canada’s true strength, down below.
7/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Nowhere is the statement “the condiments makes the burger” more true than it is for the Blame Canda. This. Is. King: maple aioli, maple bacon, cheese curds, poutine fries.
It is quite simply, a heavenly combination. Everything works – the sweetness that’s never overpowering, the candied bacon that’s like candy for adults. Pungent, aromatic cheese curds, and crispy fries because why not. This is the Blame Canada’s identity. Take any of them away, and it’s no more.
Props to Bar Luca for churning out one of the most innovative condiment sets I’ve ever encountered. And the key point is: it WORKS. No gimmicks, just pure flavour. It’s a handful, but absolutely worth it. I should point this out, even though it might be obvious: if you’re not a fan of a sweetness in your savoury, you may not be as much of a fan. Duh.
As for me, the only downside that I find here is that the bacon is often quite chewy and stringy, which means I end up pulling out an entire piece when I really just wanted to chew off bits as I make my way through the burger. Occasionally, this has led to the accidental dismantling of the entire thing. Not ideal, but it won’t stop me from ordering another.
8/8
Bun:
Bar Luca uses stock standard milk buns which do a decent job at enclosing the beast within. They aren’t as good as other milk buns featured in this post, mainly due to a somewhat leathery texture on the outside of the bun, which makes it slightly chewier than most. They also aren’t toasted, which would have been nice for a bit of that charred, smoky feel. All in all, not a pain point and you’ll likely forget about it thanks to all that’s going on within. Sometimes, that can be a good thing.
3/6
Construction:
If you’re going to order a Blame Canada, don’t blame yourself if you get burger juice all over your hands. A unfortunate, yet mostly unavoidable downside is that you’re going to get sauce, cheese and chips everywhere. If your bacon is chewy, then your whole burger may come apart.
Comes with the territory; it’s a tradeoff between deliciousness and build. But just know this – it’s probably the messiest burger you’ll eat in this post. And that’s before you crazies add a second patty.
1/3
Miscellany:
Honestly, who else does a burger that’s even remotely similar?
3/3
If you don’t eat a Blame Canada, don’t blame us if we don’t consider you a true burger breather
But jokes aside, in all honestly this is definitely one to try.
Better man the watch towers – there’s a slow but steady invasion from the north. First, it was Doughnut Time’s whacky holey-cakes, and it was a smashing success. But where doughnuts are fair game, can Ze Pickle really make a difference in Sydney’s burger scene, given how entrenched and revered its incumbents are?
Only one way to find out.
Ze Pickle’s menu features a wide array of burgers that aren’t different just for show – each and every one is a particularly unique piece. As such, a signature was quite difficult to choose, but the staff were most helpful in singling out this bad boy as the choice pick:
3AM – hand pressed wagyu beef patty, maple smoked bacon, Kanye’s fried cheeze sticks, guacamole & ZP sauce ($18)
Whoa dang.
Patty:
As far as wow-factor goes, Ze Pickle’s patties are a solid average in the spectrum of things. That’s not a bad thing – since this is a relative comparison. A medium-sized slab of pressed beef, cooked to a tender medium on the inside, delivers on beefiness and flavour.
The one item on my wishlist? A greater level of juiciness. It’s perhaps just not quite as fatty as I’d have liked it to be. The story usually ends this way – texture is my one and only fixture.
6/10
Condiments + Cheese:
Would you like some burger with your cheese? That seems to be the 3am’s philosophy on the yellow narcotic. Indeed, 3AM is perhaps the most apt name for the burger, given the hangover-crushing power it possesses.
I like the look, even if it does look far too unwieldy to eat. All I had to do was press down hard, and use proper burger-holding technique (pinch from the back). Once I broke through the crunchy and sweetly battered exterior (rave-worthy in its own right), a volcanic eruption of thick, gooey yellow mozzarella was my reward. There’s almost no doubt that this cheese has been through processing city, but the last time I ate a burger for health reasons was…
…you’re still here?
Seriously though, you might think these cheese sticks are gimmicky, and yes that is technically true. However, the extra level of deep-fried crunch they bring to the burger is undeniably enslaving of the tastebuds. I love it.
As for the sauce, I’m a little more mixed. It’s a kind of sweet guac with a bit of a sweet-acidic kick to it, which I liked, but isn’t my kind of flavour combination for this burger. Sweet and creamy would suffice, but it was also just a bit too runny. Otherwise, it’s all good.
Then there’s bacon. Oh my, so much maple goodness. No stringiness, pure chewy bacon. I dig.
7/8
Bun:
Ze Pickle’s buns are a cross between a classic sesame seed bun and a brioche. The result is something that’s got a bit more density and heft, and less fluffiness – thus giving the burger a look of “integrity”.
It’s a really good bun for the burger at hand – the only improvement I would suggest is to toast it a little bit more. I sure do love charred ends! While I usually do prefer fluffier buns, a tougher one is what’s needed to reign in all that cheese.
4/6
Construction:
It’s not perfect, but it holds together remarkably well, given its CHEESE STICKS. Don’t worry, you won’t need a knife and fork for this, but you will look ridiculous as you wipe the cheese off of your cheesy, grinning face.
As for the sauce, given that it’s runnier than normal, expect dripping.
2/3
Miscellany:
Deep fried cheese sticks. Just saying. The flavour combination overall works very well and the mouthfeel of every bite thanks to those fried sticks of gold is beautiful to behold.
3/3
I think it’s great that a newcomer can churn out burgers that rival dedicated burger restaurants, and competition is always a boon for us burger lovers. This is a great showing for Queensland. Who said a new dog can’t crash the party?
The truth is that there is no best, but that there is a burger for what is hopefully every predilection out there. For me? That is Mister Gee, Rockpool, Dee Why Hotel. Thing is – most of everything else? They ain’t far behind and a simple mood swing could even put those at the top. Anything 20+ has my wholehearted recommendation.As much as I’d love to say “there was no contest”, the truth is, Sydney’s got burger so strong, dieticians had better start working on a new campaign to stop us fatties from totally ruining ourselves – deliciously.
In the end, I find I make the most visits to Mister Gee, Bar Luca and Rockpool. The latter two because of their quality and proximity, and Mister Gee simply because it’s a bloody delicious and unique experience – you haven’t had a burger until you’ve driven nearly an hour for it and eat it on milk crates by a loud AF arterial road. So I suppose that makes Mister Gee my favourite, huh. Well then, I guess that makes it my favourite…for now!
And that’s it folks! For my ramen post I said I’d now have to sleep off the 15000 calories of ramen I ate. This time round? I might not wake up from the coma.
All visits in this post are independently paid for.
Got a suggestion? A burger joint to include? An improvement? Let me know in the comments below!
Appendix
For me, burgers can be distilled into several key components:
Patty
The patty is almost the be all and end all. A top-quality patty with the right meat mix, the right lean-to-fat ratio, the right seasoning, proper consistency and quantity, and the right method of cooking (med-rare, please) is absolutely paramount. I could eat a perfect patty between lettuce leaves and would still be happier than if it were a mediocre patty sandwiched between the most heavenly pair of buns to grace our land. Yes, it is that important.
Over the years, I’ve found that a patty that is roughly 2cm thick (120-200gm depending on burger style), medium-rare, lightly seasoned, 75-80% lean beef and ideally mostly chuck is the best for a burger patty. When it comes to gourmet burgers, I definitely would not wank on wagyu and more premium blends of meat – I can actually taste the difference, and it’s in these cases that I would happily pay in excess of $20 to partake in the experience.
Condiments + Cheese
Of course, I mentioned that the patty is almost the alpha and omega, but these two little things are often what makes two otherwise identical burgers drastically different. For example, cheese alone has many areas of variation – its melt profile, creaminess, fattiness, flavour contribution & balance relative to the rest of the burger, quantity, and so on. I really notice it when beef burgers come without cheese – you simply need this delicious, edible glue to tie everything together.
Besides, studies have shown that cheese is almost like a drug – a bad thing in the best possible way. Don’t stuff up cheese – it’ll cost a good burger.
Similar story with sauce – it has to deliver enough flavour to give the burger a unique taste profile, whilst not being overly fatty or overpowering. It definitely can’t take away from the flavour (the “meatiness”) of the beef patty itself.
Buns
In the end, all that is important about a burger is between two buns, and they are not unimportant. Preferences here vary wildly, however all burgers should be blessed with buns that do not easily tear (they hold the burger together), are correctly portioned such that it doesn’t taste like a bread sandwich, and carry a slight hint of sweetness to balance out the likely highly-savoury ingredients in between.
For me personally, a bun scores extra points if it’s toasted (this makes a huge difference), and if it’s a milk bun or a light (less sweet) brioche. To date, the best burgers I’ve had have always, whether it be coincidence or not, featured these types of buns. Tough, large buns just don’t do it for me – they always end up tasting too bready.
Construction
In the end, everything needs to hold together. The rule is simple: if I have to use cutlery, something’s wrong.
Pro-tip for eating bigger burgers: use your ring fingers & pinkys to keep the back of the burger squeezed fairly tight, so that when you eat it from the front, the ingredients can only go in one direction – your mouth. It’s a sad, sad day when this isn’t done and you’re left with a deconstructed meat sandwich.
What a year it’s been! Here’s to all the incredible places I’ve visited, the countless number of ingenious, imaginative and mind-boggling dishes I’ve eaten, and the priceless experiences I’ve been fortunate enough in which to partake.
In the end, like everything in life, there is relativity. There is good, there is better, and there is best. Here is my round-up of the ten best dishes I’ve eaten in 2017!
A listicle? NO WAY. You’ll never guess #7!
There are no rules, no scoring rubric. Coming up with the top ten was totally unscientific, with entries making the list based on a simple test of ‘what immediately comes to mind / what do I want to eat again & again’. There are no exclusions – this is the one time where fine dining can go head to head with the cheapest of street food. You probably won’t be surprised at the results.
It is perhaps an overly heuristic process, so of course, this isn’t to say that any dish not on this list is unequivocally inferior; the post could easily have well been expanded to a top fifty, and I’d still struggle to enumerate.
Without further ado, let’s trot out the plates & bowls that truly earned the Caesars!
Mofongo – Rosa de Triana, Puerto Rico
Ah, mofongo, how I miss you so. With many thanks to Royal Caribbean, I was lucky enough to be ferried to the Caribbean Islands for some serious fooding. Puerto Rican in origin, plantains (cooking bananas) are deep fried, mashed in a mortar & pestle called a pilón with garlic & butter. The aroma and flavour is already a win, but it’s commonly served as the staple carbohydrate with a variety of other main dishes, such as chicken in creole sauce.
Mashing the plantains in a pilon
Our mofongo was served with a chicken in creole sauce (and a cheeky mojito in the background)
It’s not expensive, it’s not haute cuisine, and in Puerto Rico it’s as pedestrian as it gets. But it’s balanced, absolutely delicious, and an experience novel enough for it to be transformative. It’s up against stiff competition in this post, but I can confidently declare that it’s one of the most eye-opening eats of 2017.
Hirame no engawa nigirizushi – Minamishima, Melbourne
I like to think of all restaurants as being their own unique snowflakes, so it’s always troublesome when I get asked what my favourite X restaurant is.
When it comes to sushi however, there are two itamae (high-end Japanese chefs) that turn the question into a walk in the park: Takashi Sano of Sokyo, and Koichi Minamishima of Minamishima.
Torched flounder fin (aburi hirame no engawa)
But this post is about the best dish, not the best sushi omakase (oh, don’t give me any ideas readers…). While both chefs obviously – by definition – conjure nuptials of rice and seafood that elicit nothing short of ecstasy, the choice pick goes to Minamishima’s aburi hirame no engawa – torched fin of the flounder fish, served nigiri-style. The perfection that is this piece of flounder fin nigiri has remained unsurpassed ever since I first tried it in 2015.
Those who were following me on social media in late-July/early-August know that I took an impromptu 4-day trip to Japan. Call me crazy, but Jiro Ono’s time on this earth is not infinite: when you get a reservation, you hustle.
That said, while I visited Tokyo for the legendary itamae’s sushi, I would stay for kakigori, Japan’s answer to shaved ice. Similar to how every Asian country has their own spin on this summer crusher, so too does Japan: and it’s quite an involved process. Ice is deposited layer by layer, over a long period of time to produce a pillowy texture resembling freshly-fallen snow. A liberal draping of some sweet condiment that defines the kakigori’s flavour literally caps off the dessert.
The incredible black sugar & sesame powder kakigori
Kakigori is a far finer, far more delicate dessert than any other shaved ice. It kind of helps when my first time was at Kuriya Kashi Kurogi, an incredibly popular kakigori-ya renowned for its focus on quality. The operative dish? Its kuromitsu kinako kakigori (Japanese black sugar syrup & soybean powder kakigori). This was the best dessert of 2017 – nothing came close – and is perhaps one of the greatest desserts I’ve ever eaten. Yeah, I was hysterical. Still sort of am.
Ox tongue – Monkey’s Corner, Sydney
I’ve already waxed plenty lyrical about Monkey’s Corner. One of my favourite venue openings of the year, the Poernomo brothers’ latest venture is a small bar that’s making a big impact. That the cocktails are great is a given, but what truly shines for this blogger is the food: it’s incredible that their shoe box kitchen is able to produce what it does.
Ox tongue w/beef fat, chivas & lime
While I could go on and on about what to order off its menu (hint: it’s basically the everything), the ox tongue is what’s got my tongue. For someone who’s used to equating ox tongue with Korean BBQ, Monkey’s Corner’s version – slow-cooked over two days, doused in beef fat, lime, and chives – was a revelation. It’s only been two months since my first visit, and I’ve already eaten the dish three times. Will I get sick of it? Maybe. But I don’t see it happening any time soon.
Tonkatsu – Narikura (成蔵), Tokyo
My experience with breaded, deep fried pork prior to Narikura was just that: breaded, deep fried pork. It’s a quick, cheap, and dirty feed. Yes, the sauce is usually Dead Sea salty, the pork sometimes parchment dry, and the breading overdone. Despite these occasional regrets, the results – like much of comfort cuisine – are usually quite satisfying.
But then I decided to queue up for ninety minutes at Narikura, and everything changed.
The perfect tonkatsu at Narikura
This is what tonkatsu should be. The queues at Narikura build up well before opening. It was pouring buckets on the night I went, and the queue still spilled well onto the streets. Of course, I’m insane: so naturally I added to the problem by joining the queue. Was it the right decision?
What a moot question. This is tonkatsu perfected in the way that only Japanese chefs – working with the same cuisine day in and day out for years on end – can perfect. The panko crumb was light & airy, and like Japan’s excellent tempura, with nary an oil stain in sight. The pork – with plenty of choice priced depending on the breed & cut – is so tender, all future succulence measures of pork dishes will range from ‘1’ to ‘Narikura tonkatsu’.
Yet another eat ruined.
Pappardelle – LuMi Bar & Dining, Sydney
That a pasta making it into the top ten should be shocking. It wasn’t ramen, it wasn’t laksa. This year’s carb stakes was dominated by flour, water and eggs – nothing more. I’ve already primed my inbox to receive the hate mail; however, I stand by the call: Mr Federico Zanellato of LuMi Dining has absolutely nailed it. On a bad day, LuMi is vaunted as one of those rare fusion restaurants that gets the fusion: no adverse side effects. But I’m not here to talk about that. This time, it’s pure pappardelle pasta goodness. Specifically, the duck ragu pappardelle w/hazelnut.
LuMi’s duck ragu pappardelle
It doesn’t need to be special, it doesn’t need to show off: it just has to be absolutely delicious. You only merely need the best pasta possible, and then show it off with a rich, nutty ragu. Easy right? Unfortunately, LuMi’s position as a fine diner means that this is one dish that may quite literally never grace my taste buds ever again.
Hah, kidding. It wasn’t difficult at all. While the masses know Messina as the gelato purveyor of leviathan proportions, it is sugar magician Remi Talbot & team’s efforts right next to the Darlinghurst gelateria that has my heart on a sugar-spun leash. Here is a kitchen that crafts haute desserts at the highest level, with only Koi Dessert Bar coming anywhere close in competition.
And boy, does the Creative Department live up to its namesake. They certainly haven’t made the job of choosing just one dish easy. In the end, it was this doozy that broke through the mould:
Black truffle gelato, potato & parmesan risotto, yuzu kosho foam, accompanied by a mushroom dashi
I’ll gloss over the blindingly obvious: a perfect risotto with black truffle would be a winner at any dinner. That Messina has masterfully straddled the ambiguous boundary between sweet and savoury with its inclusion of a black truffle gelato was the true crowning achievement. Is it savoury? Is it sweet? I couldn’t say: that’s freaky, and freaking exciting.
Truffle mac and cheese – Cavalier Specialty Coffee, Sydney
As my favourite cafe in Sydney, it would be remiss of me not to include at least one number from Cavalier Specialty Coffee. With a polished menu more fit for a fine diner than cafe, Cavalier has been operating on a level beyond most other cafes ever since its inception.
Case in point: their mac n cheese with truffle is almost an unfair hack in the game of flavour. But Cavalier doesn’t just lump the two together and call it a day: its truffle special is further umami-fied with duxelles, grana padano and #yolkporn.
It’s the kind of dish in which you need to literally draw a line to ensure equal distribution, or else war will be waged to determine who gets the last spoonful.
Only available during truffle season, I’m afraid!
Lamb Pao Mo (羊肉泡馍) – Xi’An, China
As one of the middle kingdom’s oldest cities with cardinal influence on cuisine all over China, visiting my home city of Xi’An invariably results in a smorgasbord of overeating in an ultimately futile attempt to check off my always overly ambitious eat list. The result can usually be summed up in two numbers: +2 and -2. That is to say, +2kg, -2 years of my projected lifespan. Better to live short but well than long but regretful.
羊肉泡馍 (yang rou pao mo)
羊肉泡馍 (yang rou pao mo)
If you’ve already read my mega-post on fifty (yes, five-o!) of Xi’An’s street eats, it won’t come as a surprise that the veritable pao mo makes the list without challenge. Lamb soup can be confronting to those who’ve only ever had a chop off the barbie, I’ll never consider you to have visited Xi’An until you try this icon at least once.
Wagyu steak – Home cooked!
Something that was home-cooked, making the list? Why yes it’s entirely possible: especially when dishing out the cheat codes of wagyu, truffle, and a very hot pan.
Earlier this year, legendary breeder Blackmore Wagyu produced an incredible carcass called Aizakura K1015. It was a 100% pure-bred Tajima bull whose lineage can be traced back to the only full-bloods ever exported outside of Japan. Yes, get that straight: in Australia, if you are served any wagyu that’s not from Blackmore’s farm, know that it is a crossbreed. Nothing against crossbreeds; however, the name wagyu – like Kobe – gets bandied about a bit too loosely for my liking.
Aizakura wagyu – this was a 250g scotch. I also ordered a 250g sirloin.
This is one meal where home cooking certainly is not cheaper than eating out :’)
At $500 a kilo, Aizakura was expensive, even for Blackmore wagyu. While the value judgement can ultimately only be made in the eye of the beholder, my hesitation committing to take a part of this glorious cow home was like the contents of my wallet after the purchase: non-existent.
The wagyu was nothing short of pure beefiness just by itself, but as it was going to be the best thing I’ll ever make, sprinkling 10% truffle salt and slicing 20g of WA Perigord truffle on top seemed like a great idea.
I certainly can’t think of a better food decision I’ve made this year.
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: what a year 2017 has been in the world of food. Some exciting food trips are penned in for 2018, so I can’t wait for this year to be topped. What are your top ten dishes for 2017? Sound off in the comments below!
This post is completely based on independently-paid visits/products
June 1st. Winter. A time of foggy breath, puffy jackets and the ever fashionable Ugg boots. A time when getting a little closer to your crush isn’t questioned. A time when breakfast in bed replaces the morning run, and when hot, soupy bowls of noodles literally warm the soul.
Winter is here, and with it, a continuation of a now four-year tradition for the blog. It’s time for the best X in Sydney.
It’s a love-hate relationship, these posts; writing them is akin to getting up in the morning during winter – a bitch. But with the result being a representative list of some of Sydney’s most-loved dishes? Invaluable, priceless, even as it shaves years off my lifespan.
With that said, I’m Still Hungry and his belly bring you the 2018 edition featuring the intense, the spicy and the shirt stain-worthy signature noodle soup dish from Malaysia. Put your bibs on and practise your best slurp: it’s time for some laksa!
The ‘best X in Sydney’ series started with ramen, continued with burgers, matcha lattes, and now with laksa, we’ve come full circle. Both dishes have rich, Sino-influenced origin stories and are revered as signatures of their cuisines. Both are readily accessible, cheap, and ostensibly simple, yet belying incredible complexity beneath the (sometimes very oily) surface. Much like how ramen is Japan’s ‘fastest food with the slowest preparation time’, laksa is likewise a time-consuming affair in its construction. Like its Japanese brother, it’s a gift to noodle lovers all around the world.
It’s amazing what a little bit of shrimp paste and coconut milk can do. I hit up twenty in an attempt to find you Sydney’s best.
Laksa (or curry mee as it’s known in some areas of Malaysia) is considered Peranakan cuisine – the descendants of Chinese immigrants who came to the Malay archipelago, Indonesia and parts of Thailand several centuries ago. Broadly speaking, there are two primary schools of the dish, and they could hardly be more different. One is assam laksa, commonly defined by its strong smell & taste – redolent of fishiness and tamarind acidity – and relatively clear soup. Assuming you don’t want to alienate your workmates, it’s not the kind of dish to eat at your desk. The second, and by far the most common type of laksa is the curry laksa, also known as the Singaporean curry laksa.
The Best Laksa In Sydney – Assessment Methodology
The Visits
While I love all types of laksa, I must confess that curry laksa undoubtedly holds the most special of places in my heart, and so too does most of the world. Thus, this is the type in focus. Besides, if this was a ‘best assam laksa in Sydney’ blog post, it would be a helluva short one. Not every restaurant that serves curry laksa serves assam laksa. Go figure.
At each of the laksa restaurants i visited (regardless of prior visits), I ordered their combination curry laksa, where possible. This order allowed me to assess the laksa toppings in terms of variety and quality (as well as quantity, but under another sub score). In the instances when a combo laksa was not available, I defaulted to their seafood option.
Naturally, to ensure post-hoc accuracy, I took detailed notes immediately upon eating or on the same day as consumption at latest. This reduced recollection errors and improved informational integrity to the best possible extent.
The Scoring
Thankfully, this isn’t as hard as ramen. There are only so many variables at stake here – no ‘tonkotsu, shoyu or miso’ head-scratching needed. That said, you may still like your laksa in a way that we would agree to disagree, so here’s what I value, in order: broth, noodles, and toppings.
Broth is out of 10 (yes, this is hugely important to me), with noodles out of 6 and toppings out of 4. Please take into account your own preferences when considering the numbers. The Appendix provides further detail on this rubric.
Previous visits to laksa restaurants predating this post were not considered. For example, even after 20 visits to Malay Chinese, I only judged the bowl that was in front of visit when i went to visit the restauranfor this post. This was to ensure fairness for restaurants that have had few, or no visits, prior to this post.
It really shouldn’t need to be said, but I paid for all meals with my own money, and had no personal interactions with any restaurant owners that may otherwise have affected my judgement.
If you have criticisms of my methodology or scoring, please feel free to shout me another 20 bowls of laksa with your superior methodology and I’ll be happy to indulge (But no seriously, shout out in the comments if you’ve any feedback!)
This is the OG. The institution, if there ever was one for laksa in Sydney. Even in Summer, its 80-odd seats that are arranged for maximum bums-per-square-metre are packed during the lunch rush. People are willing to literally stew in their work clothes for the laksa and other Chinese-influenced South-East Asian cuisine.
I’ve visited Malay Chinese more than 50 times, and almost each time, I inevitably conclude that it’s the best laksa in Sydney. While this list – *spoilers* – shook that up a little, it is still undoubtedly one of the best. Enduringly good.
Broth: 10/10
The perfect broth. Literally the benchmark by which all others are set. Malay Chinese’s fiery elixir is slightly sweet, bringing out the full impact of its coconut milk. The prawn sambal and tamarind paste isn’t left behind, bringing up the rear with the required savoury hits that makes laksa, laksa.
Noodles: 4/6
Rice noodles (bee hoon) – while well-cooked – are the only type served, which diluted the laksa’s texture and ‘slurp’ factor. Unimpressive, but not lagging behind other single-noodle competition.
Toppings: 2/4
Seafood & chicken was as combinatory as Malay Chinese gets. Big, plump king prawns and some of the better (read: not dry) chicken of the laksas tasted in this post gave little latitude for complaint.
While DIY condiments are scarce on the ground, the one that counts most – chilli sambal – is in unlimited supply. Scoop up as much as you want from a giant pot when picking up your order: this is some of the best free-flowing sambal you can get.
Sassy’s Red (Chinta Ria), Westfield Pitt St Food Court
Sassy’s Red (Chinta Ria), Seafood Laksa – $15
Chinta Ria used to be the Temple of Love, (no seriously https://www.yelp.com.au/biz/chinta-ria-temple-of-love-sydney-2) occupying one of the most enviable spaces overlooking Pyrmont Bridge and Darling Harbour. While its restaurant empire is now diminished compared to its heyday, its three spin-offs (the current flagship Chinta Ria Mood For Love, and casual eateries Sassy’s Red & Ella Blues) are holding the fort for true zealots.
It’s at Sassy’s Red, located on Level 5 of Sydney’s CBD Westfield Food Court that we found the next laksa awaiting its fateful resting place in my stomach.
Broth: 6/10
A surprisingly light broth subverted my expectation of what I thought would come out of a place with ‘Sassy’ and ‘Red’ in its name. It wasn’t spicy, it wasn’t hot, it wasn’t oily, and it wasn’t intense. Drinkable? Yes. But it was milkier than most, which isn’t my preferred style.
Noodles: 5/6
A choice of three noodles presented to the customer makes this a winner – only a handful of restaurants allow for this level of customisation. I was happy with my classic al dente egg and bee hoon combination. The third option – rice noodles – costs slightly extra.
Toppings: 2.5/4
Toppings were satisfactory. There was notable variety in the seafood mix – squid, calamari, large-ish prawns, all-important fish balls and so on. What’s particularly nice was the inclusion of actual pieces of fish and unconventionally – for the lols – snow peas. You get what you pay for, good stuff!
Fried onion on request and DIY sambal were appreciated; however, it wasn’t particularly delicious – redolent of off-brand chilli than a proper sambal made with shrimp paste.
If you polled Sydney’s noodle-slurping population on their favourite laksa, the Malay Chinese, Temasek & Jimmy’s Recipe love triangle frequently presents. Good positioning and a plethora of media coverage plays its part, but you can’t argue that these three restaurants serve some serious bowls.
At Jimmy’s, you know business is good when they underwent an extensive renovation last year, modernising its facade and adding over 20 additional seats. Now, all the laksa has to do is keep up with the times.
Broth: 7/10
Jimmy’s Recipe calls for a medium-intensity broth: ‘can’t fault, can’t rave’ were my exact notes.
Perhaps not a benchmark, but certainly a baseline. I wouldn’t even be mad if this was the only laksa broth I could have for the rest of my days. I could only wish for some extra oomph in flavour.
Noodles: 5/6
A good mix of al dente egg noodles and similarly chewy rice vermicelli rounded out the noodle offering. There’s plenty of it too, and cooked with no issues.
Toppings: 2.5/4
Prawns, squid, and a whole lot more – including vegetables. Jimmy’s is one of the few laksa joints to offer a true combination option; it didn’t disappoint – there really was a bit of everything. The only downside? Well, I could do with more than three small prawns for $15.
No extras, unfortunately – no DIY sambal, dried onion, or the like. You come for a bowl of laksa, you get a bowl of laksa: nothing more.
Alice’s Makan (‘food’ in Malay) is hugely underrated – and I’m not even talking about laksa. They serve excellent Malaysian fare across the board: some of the best kueh I’ve had in Sydney, and likely the best har mee too. Their CKT is also a smart order. Naturally, expectations were high when it came to its laksa, my first time in multiple visits.
Broth: 7/10
Suffice to say, nothing was going to dethrone Alice’s Makan’s har mee, but its laksa was not far off in deliciousness. It was an above-average broth: doing the job well across all important dimensions. It was just a bit oily, and lacked sufficient sweetness to cut through the underlying curry intensity – though mint did somewhat make up for that.
Noodles: 4/6
A whole lot of chewy noodles of both egg & bee hoon presented themselves, with perhaps just a little bit of undercooking going on.
Toppings: 2.5/4
It’s a limited sample, but the chicken eaten for the sake of this post have by and large been overcooked, dry affairs. Well, not here: tender, juicy, perfectly-done – Alice’s Makan served up the best chicken of the lot.
A limited amount of sambal was spooned into the bowl, but otherwise nothing extra on the extras front.
From the lines that extend out from CBD Noodle, it’s safe to assume that its the place to be to eat its namesake – at least, for wok-fried dishes. The lack of queue for soup noodles was a warning sign, and indeed, with Malay Chinese not a five minute walk from CBD Noodle, it was a hard sell.
Broth: 5/10
A relatively weak broth made for a relatively forgettable experience. Coconut milk was the most discernible flavour, which isn’t where you want to make your splash. Those who prefer a lighter laksa would take to this, and more importantly – be one less person queuing at nearby Malay Chinese
Noodles: 3/6
Only bee hoon was served, and they were slightly overcooked, stripping them of all-important chewiness.
Toppings: 2.5/4
A good sampling of toppings: chewy squid (that’s well-cooked!), fish balls and tofu. DIY scallions, onion flakes & sambal made for a nice set of flavour enhancers. A good 5 tablespoons of the stuff has the potential to completely change the broth.
I must admit, I signed myself up for this post with the preconceived notion that Malay Chinese would clinch the number 1 spot.
I was so, so very wrong. Say hello to the newly-crowned king that, actually, has always been the reigning monarch: the very appropriately-named Laksa King.
Broth: 10/10
A broth on par with the Hunter Street legend. It’s not the same broth – Laksa King’s is less sweet. However,
it remained perfectly-balanced in its own way. Intense, fragrant, spicy, and with just the right hint of curry. It was actually stronger than Malay Chinese’s broth, while managing to be less oily. Despite being one of the largest bowls of laksa (by volume) I’ve had, I finished it all. Truly magical.
Noodles: 5/6
Both noodle types were represented. The choice of a third (rice noodles) was also available. Perfectly cooked? You betcha.
Toppings: 3/4
Laksa King’s combo laksa truly lives up to its name, with more ‘combo’ than any other in this post: prawns, spongy tofu, fish tofu, fish balls, vegetables, chicken and beef – its variety was unmatched. The only niggle I had was that the beef was overcooked to the point of jerky. Ouch, my jaw.
A black bean-based sambal (much more mainland Chinese than Malaysian) was available. Be warned that it was a bit salty & hot – use sparingly.
When a restaurant has multiple location, hundreds of seats and yet still has a mosh pit of customers waiting for seating – this certainly painted a good sign for Ipoh on York.
To which I can say, disappointment was not on the menu.
Broth: 6/10
Milk and coconut were the strongest flavours I detected in Ipoh’s broth. There was still some dimension of spice and shrimp; however, these took a back seat. Quite drinkable, but perhaps never quite giving the same ‘ahh’ satisfaction as soups scoring a 7+.
Noodles: 5/6
The usual noodly goodness – both types included, both types well-cooked. Slurp away!
Toppings: 3/4
Ipoh’s toppings tasted better and of higher quality than most. I particularly enjoyed the fact that its squid and calamari was soft chewy instead of the all-too-common rubber that I tend to receive. There were even mussels!
DIY sambal and a large portion size rounded out the deal. A solid 3.
Another Malaysian eatery that’s made a name for itself with multiple locations serving almost every compass direction in Sydney. Petaling Street Kitchen caters particularly to the student crowd – strategically positioned along key university ley lines. As such, they’re known for their portion sizes – an attribute that seriously tested my limits with their massive seafood laksa.
Broth: 6/10
The initial ‘wow’ moment at sighting this beast quickly gave way to concern at the oiliness of the broth. Forming a layer nearly half a centimetre thick, there’s no way to truly get around it short of skimming the entire bowl. Flavours were thus subdued – the oil took centre stage. That said, I could smell the curry fragrance of the broth – if only the broth could be brought to balance such that its underlying flavour would be allowed to get through.
Noodles: 5/6
The oleaginous broth meant that the noodles (of both egg & bee hoon types), otherwise well-cooked, couldn’t be fully enjoyed: it’s sad that they were merely doing a good job at picking the broth.
Toppings: 2.5/4
A good selection of seafood – the usual, plus a surprisingaddition of cockles made for a good set of toppings that justified the price tag. I also quite liked how well everything was cooked – not a single instance of rubbery squid here. The inclusion of fried onion also helped eke out extra flavour, and distracted fromthe broth’s oiliness.
Alex Lee’s Kitchen, fish fillet Katong laksa – $14
If Kensington Street’s Spice Alley didn’t have a place that sold laksa…
…well I’m glad we don’t have to have that hypothetical conversation. At Alex Lee’s Malaysian, a Katong Laksa – which is really the same as a normal curry laksa but with shorter strands of noodles – features on the menu.
Broth: 5/10
Ever had a laksa smoothie? I haven’t, but Alex Lee’s appears to serve one. This soup was far closer to a curry paste than any other laksa I’ve had – ever. The ratio of broth:noodles was also very off, which greatly compounded the situation. Flavours were strongly curry, and lacked sufficient salt or shrimp paste. It’s not that this broth was undrinkable, it’s that I was practically eating it.
Noodles: 3/6
Compounding some of the issues I found with the broth, the noodles didn’t do much to help the situation. In addition to the quantity problem mentioned earlier, Alex Lee’s mistakenly goes all in on bee hoon, which led to each bite being very gluggy, given how well bee hoon’s thin strands soak up (the already thick) broth.
Toppings: 2/4
With no legitimate combination laksa option, Alex Lee’s most unique offering were fish fillets. What I didn’t expect were massive chunks of deep-fried fish, with batter that was too thick for a broth that itself wasn’t exactly on the light side. However, I definitely can commend the quantity – you get heaps, and actual fish within the batter was also quite nice.
A recent visit to Ho Jiak for the sake of this post has managed to single-handedly convince me that this may be one of Sydney’s best Malaysian restaurants. While I could (and should) write a whole blog post just on that, it suffices to say that the laksa was a winner, and a major factor in my newest Malaysian love affair.
Broth: 8/10
Wow, what a broth. A top five, this truly hit the spot in every dimension. Think Malay Chinese, but spicier, less sweet, and slightly thicker and you have Ho Jiak. I could drink this every day for the rest of my life, which wouldn’t be very long if I did.
Noodles: 5/6
Ho Jiak’s laksa is one of the few that has a higher ratio of egg noodles to bee hoon. This is a good thing. You know what’s even better? Chewy, al dente texture. Oh, if only there was more of it – its quantity could use a boost.
Toppings: 3/4
Tofu skins and prawns that tasted like they’d actually been marinated in the broth took the toppings up a notch. Sambal is also available on the side, with requests for more a mere ask away.
If there is a best, there unfortunately has to be a worst. The bearer of this unenviable trophy? Singapura.
Broth: 2/10
Oh broth, we just couldn’t get along. It’s not me, it’s you. Finding something worth praising was like trying to find flavour. Ah that’s right, Singapura’s has none – the blandest broth in this post. Even the base flavour of coconut milk was hard to discern. Is salty creamy water a thing?
Noodles: 5/6
The noodles were perfectly fine, much like other laksas scoring 5/6 in this dimension. But as I note elsewhere, the best noodles in the world can’t save a mediocre broth.
Toppings: 1.5/4
An average selection of toppings that really suffered from the weak broth.
Before Ho Jiak made its mark on Sydney’s Malay scene, Albee’s Kitchen was the reference point for a Malaysian restaurant that does pretty much everything right.
Well, nothing’s changed: you can get a banger of a laksa here that’s solidly in the top five.
Broth: 8/10
Goddamn, this was some slurp-tastic soup. Intense, flavourful, with only a hint that it might actually be terrible for your body (read: slightly oily). If you don’t like this broth, it’s safe to say you don’t like laksa the way Malays intend. Excuse me, I’ve got the rest of the bowl to finish.
Noodles: 5/6
A perfect ratio of egg noodles to bee hoon that’s perfectly-cooked was the theme of the bowl – and indeed of most laksas I’ve reviewed! Albee’s Kitchen was no exception in the pantheon of great noodle delivery – it’s awesome to see so many places getting the basics right.
Toppings: 2/4
The soup and noodles were performing at such an elite level, toppings were left to assume bourgeois status. They were there, but not in great quantity. They didn’t taste terrible, but they weren’t memorable. I’d be very keen to try their yong tau foo laksa next time for something different!
Sinma Laksa House has been catering to Kensington’s student clientele for years, and it showed through its decor – so tired that it’s actually become authentically typical of a multi-generational, family-run Malaysian restaurant. People often come here for their various takes on crab (chilli, black pepper, salted egg – you name it), but you have to get the basics right, right?
Broth: 7/10
The soup was above average, that much was true. There was a distinct curry flavour that was quite pronounced in the absence of the sweetness. The choice of mint – while not entirely uncommon in Southern Malaysian-style laksa – quite prominent. I finished three-quarters of the soup before realising it, that’s saying something right?
Noodles: 4/6
The egg noodles at Sinma Laksa House were smaller than average, which did change mouthfeel. Otherwise, it’s business as usual with trusted bee hoon as partner in crime.
Toppings: 1/4
I found only two prawns in the entire bowl, with one of them not all that much bigger than bulk-buy mini shrimp. The chicken tasted like fake soy-based meat, its texture closer to spongy tofu than chicken. I was impressed at how unimpressive this aspect of the dish turned out.
Temasek, like Albee’s Kitchen, is the undisputed local go-to for those living nearby (Parramatta and surrounds). To many, it is one of the best Malaysian restaurants in Sydney.
That it would output a decent laksa was the minimum expectation.
Broth: 7/10
A very milky broth, with a very earthy curry flavour accentuated by fragrant kaffir lime made for a broth unique to Temasek – I didn’t really taste any other laksa soup quite like this one. Where it fell a bit short was the excess of oil and a lack of sweetness to balance the otherwise sharp curry flavour. A good broth nonetheless, one I would be happy to re-imbibe.
Noodles: 5/6
All is gravy on the noodle train – both types are offered, and boy was there a lot of it. The egg noodles in particular had the textural consistency of Chinese e-fu noodles, which was a notable departure from most other samples. It worked well given the context – there is no singular right answer for these things.
Toppings: 1.5/4
Toppings were sparse given the price point – Temasek sells the most expensive laksa in Sydney – and the size of the bowl. A few calamari rings, three prawns, and one sponge tofu cut in half was all I got – not even fish cakes! Not cool.
The ‘Temasek of the north’, Penang Cuisine attracts a steady stream of customers despite its awkward positioning at the lower ground level of an office complex on Rawson Street in Epping.
Broth: 6/10
A decidedly average broth after a decidedly long commute would have been disappointing if it didn’t mean that average actually means ‘decent’, considering the quality of laksa in Sydney. Sure, Penang Cuisine’s laksa didn’t blow my mind, but all the basics were present – and critically avoided the biggest faux pas of being overly weak. A flavour leaning towards that of curry leaf was the sole memorable highlight.
Noodles: 5/6
All clear on the noodle front – both types are provided, with its thick fat egg noodles being particularly tasty.
Toppings: 2.5/4
Actual pieces of fish, along with a standard assortment of processed fish-based goods rounded out the toppings selection. Given the $16 price point, I’d have been happier if I received more than just three prawns.
Malacca Straits is well-positioned to capture UTS students’ foot traffic and nearby shoppers alike given its location along Broadway. Whether its laksa is worth the dime is perhaps a slightly different story.
Broth: 5/10
A mediocre broth was the only thing that distinguished itself more than what was possibly the smallest bowl of laksa featured in this – it felt like a hawker stall portion with Sydney prices. It was one-dimensional, with curry strongly dominating the palate without any shrimp paste umami, salt or much sweetness to back it up. Needless to say, I left quite a bit of broth in the bowl, not that there was much to begin with.
Noodles: 3/6
Only bee hoon by default? Considering how well most other restaurants do on the noodle front, I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Be sure to explicitly ask for egg noodles on your visit.
Toppings: 2/4
On the one hand, the relatively small size of the bowl meant there was a good ratio of toppings to broth & noodles. On the other hand, it’s still not a lot of variety – consider Malacca Straits to serve the ‘standard’ amount. Nobody will be particularly impressed here.
Normally, a Malaysian restaurant within five minutes of Malay Chinese shouldn’t be in business. However, Lee’s Malaysian is in and of itself a mini Malay empire that has done well for itself in capturing its own slice of the CBD lunch rush crowd. While I don’t think its laksa is by no means superior to that of its upper-Hunter Street competitor, it is sufficiently different.
Broth: 5/10
My palate and the broth at Lee’s Malaysian did not agree. An incredibly strong kaffir lime flavour – while zesty and cut through the broth – filled the nose every time I brought my face anywhere near the bowl. The soup itself was very oily. I can’t actually even remember anything else about the broth other than kaffir leaves and oil.
Noodles: 3/6
I prefer my laksa noodles to be close to al dente, but Lee’s took them to the next level. An undercooked level. The bee hoon was the accused culprit, with an almost caustic, starchy exterior mouthfeel surrounding a tough, wire-like core.
Toppings: 2.5/4
Fish balls, prawns, actual fish pieces and squid made for a good spread of toppings. If only the broth weren’t so oily – on this day I learned that squid rings do an excellent job at capturing oil slicks.
Ito’s has been in the laksa business for over 30 years. That was all I needed to know before putting it on the list: talked the talk? Then time to walk the walk.
Broth: 6/10
For a restaurant whose laksa is meant to be the lighter, Southern Malaysian variety, Ito’s broth was surprisingly greasy. I finished just half of it before the oil built up to ‘yep I’m done’ levels. Flavours were, however, good with hints of spice and ever-slightly herbaceous notes.
Noodles: 3/6
Bee hoon was the only noodle type given, which flattened the otherwise multi-dimensional eating experience. They have egg noodles – you just won’t be given them without asking.
Toppings: 2/4
Actual fish made for a higher-quality offering of toppings; however, this appeared to come at the cost of fish balls. While the latter isn’t exactly expensive, I consider fish balls to be a quintessential aspect of laksas, so this was a bit of a (cheap) miss. On the plus side, the squid was delicious – chewy, soft, and carried some of the broth’s flavour. Good stuff.
I quite enjoy eating at PappaRich, even as it is constantly derided as overrated by just about every self-professed foodie. If anything, it does a great job at expanding awareness of South-East Asian cuisine, which I totally support.
But the laksa? You can do better.
Broth: 4/10
A broth with otherwise good flavour characteristics – sufficiently milky, albeit a bit light on shrimp flavour – was let down by coming in surprisingly lukewarm, which of course is a no-no. While easily remedied remedied with 2 minutes in the microwave, it says a thing or two about consistency.
Noodles: 5/6
Plenty of bee hoon supplemented by thick, cylindrical egg noodles exhibited excellent soup pick-up powers. By far my favourite element of this laksa.
Toppings: 1.5/4
For its price, toppings were sufficiently varied (hey, mussels!), but sparse in quantity. These were little crimes next to the fact that most of the seafood tasted like as if they had just been defrosted and never had a chance to soak up the flavour of the broth. It didn’t make for a particularly nice combination with the already half-hearted soup.
Where has Happy Chef been all my life? I ate what was easily one of the best laksas in Sydney here!
Broth: 7/10
Happy Chef performs so well across the board that the only dimension that lagged somewhat was the broth – and not even by all that much. The only reason it doesn’t get a higher score had to do with a desire for more intensity. Other than that, it’s already eminently drinkable: balanced and delicious, every slurp begetting another.
Noodles: 6/6
If you’ve been reading this post in order, you may have noticed that no restaurant has scored higher than a 5 for noodles. That changes now: Happy Chef’s noodles are the best in the biz. To start, you get four very different choices. But the real reason for my laudation comes from its default noodle types: a flat-style egg noodle (plus a great bee hoon). I didn’t think a cylindrical shape could be bested, but that’s exactly what happened in this case. There is an indescribable different to the mouthfeel of Happy Chef’s flatter egg noodles – chewy, slippery, and extremely fun to eat. And of course, it does this in conjunction of fulfilling its base principle of carrying the broth from bowl to stomach.
<3 these noodles.
Toppings: 4/4
King prawns. Calamari. Squid. Char siu. Chicken. Beef. Tofu. Fish cakes. Fish balls. Hokkaido scallops. Remember the price of this bowl: it’s $15, not $30. Hokkaido scallops are in and of themselves approximately $2 each.
No other laksa comes close to Happy Chef’s value proposition. I don’t believe more words are needed.
Like ramen, there is something to be said of Sydney’s laksa offering: it’s ubiquitous, and with the exception of a few venues, quality. There were clearly standouts, headed by Laksa King, truly the reigning monarch of Malaysia’s signature noodle soup. However, Malay Chinese and Happy Chef aren’t far behind – I could easily stay put in this triangle till the end of time.
But the most important takeaway? Any venue scoring over 12 is a good laksa in my books, where I would be happy to eat again and again. That the mean is a respectable 13.25? Oh Sydney, you good. Wherever you may be, chances are, there’s a delicious winter warmer near you.
All visits in this post were independently paid for.
Appendix
The quality of laksa can be roughly boiled down into three categories, in order of importance:
Broth quality/10
A delectable broth is almost everything. If I didn’t value broth, this post would be titled ‘best fried noodles in Sydney’. They don’t call it a soup base for nothing – it is the foundation of the entire dish. A good broth can save even mediocre noodles; the best noodles cannot rescue pond scum.
A notable laksa broth should be adequately rich without being oleaginous. It should be hearty without being too milky. It should be slightly sweet, with distinct notes of prawn, sambal paste, and just a little hint of curry – say, from leaf. It should be properly balanced – appropriately spicy, adequately intense, not too salty, and most of all it should be damn hard for me to put down the spoon.
Noodle quality/6
Laksa noodles are typically a Hokkien-style egg noodles with a thicker diameter and chewier mouthfeel, mixed in with a portion of thin vermicelli noodles (called bee hoon), usually in a 1:2 ratio. Restaurants that don’t serve this dynamic duo will be docked points; restaurants that offer this and even more will do well here.
In terms of quality, I look for consistency in texture: egg noodles should be springy and just a little bit slippery, with the ability to attract broth with every slurp. Vermicelli should be suitably thin, softer, but still carry a bite. They should also soak up broth, but in a more sponge-like way.
In both cases, noodles that are over or undercooked are absolute faux pas’, with scores to reflect. The right mouthfeel? Give my teeth some resistance!
Quality of toppings/4
In the grand scheme of things, toppings don’t matter all that much. You could plate up glacier 51 toothfish with gold leaf and ossetra caviar and I’ll still flip the table if the broth isn’t slurp-worthy. However beyond this, quality and variety are key determinants of this sub score. Presuming you’ve already read the post (or at least, seen the pictures?), you can see just how much differentiation can exist between venues.
Generous toppings, extra noodle options, availability of condiments (fried onion, sambal etc.) also play a part – albeit small. So too does value for money.
As the curtains drew to a close on 2018 and 2019 opens, a timeless tradition is to lament the speed the previous year has slipped away from us: ‘it was January, then I blinked and now it’s Christmas’. But is this really a bad thing? Time spent well is time that flies: the faster it went, the better it must have been.
2018, then, has barely been a flash in the pan for yours truly. Phenomenal is perhaps one adjective that comes close. Spoilt would be another: I am extremely fortunate to have been able to take all the trips that have happened (> 20 flights this year!), and there’s no sign of that stopping any time soon with two trips in January already pencilled in. Of course, it also wouldn’t be the same without all my readers & followers that have come along for the ride: I’m always in excellent company, cheers to you all.
If you’ve kept up with what I’ve been up to, you can appreciate how difficult it was for me to write up the 2018 version of my top 10, and so this year, I’ve decided to break things down into two posts: a list of my top 10 restaurant experiences, and one specifically for the top 10 dishes (there will be no overlap by design). For restaurants overall, it is important to emphasise that while food still matters most, the overall experience is also important: one can be in the top 10 without necessarily nailing every dish (and frankly, no restaurant does that); likewise, one superfluous dish a superior restaurant does not make.
As usual, this is as scientific as I can be bothered to make it: that is, not at all scientific. Unique experiences, a great vibe, and places that simply ‘click’ were all fair game. Dishes that are akin to a out-of-body experience? I’m down. Ultimately, the two posts are a way for me to convey to you the things that have I’ve been most excited/impressed about in 2018, in the same way that I would recommend you in person.
Let’s do it: first up, restaurants (the post on dishes will come next week!).
Hands down, the best meal of the year, and one of the best five I’ve ever had in my lifetime. Okay yes, I did say that this is an unranked list; however, this time, Kyoaji was the clear number one.
Kyoaji literally means ‘taste of Kyoto’, a fitting title as the restaurant specialises in kaiseki, the centuries-old Japanese cuisine format whose origin is widely acknowledged to be the ancient capital. Unfortunately, one of the best restaurants I’ve ever visited is also one of the most difficult to get into: without an introduction, your chances are slim to none. I hate to be the one to trot out this kind of line more than once, for I know what it’s like being on the other side, barred from some of Japan’s most exclusive culinary instutitions.
However, as distasteful as foreigners may find the concept of ichigen-san okotowari (first-timers refused), it doesn’t change the truth of my experience: chef-owner Kenichiro Nishi and his team delivered a sublime meal, where most dishes looked so deceptively simple that one couldn’t help but wonder if they’ve been duped like diners visiting The Shed at Dulwich. However, every bite, every slurp, every texture and flavour and every ingredient from the hyper-seasonal menu left at least a quiet ‘wow’, and often quite the audible equivalent. Yes, I am being hyperbolic – but you would be pedantic to call me out on it. No meal is perfect and Kyoaji certainly wasn’t (a blog post will come in time), but for me to consider any meal that I would have again over Kyoaji in 2018? You can look me in the eye and I’ll say: no chance.
I’m sure we’ve all had the experience: you visit a restaurant with scant coverage: it isn’t featured in food publications and it doesn’t have the PR budget to have its dishes grace influencers’ feeds. Maybe it was just a friend that recommended it, you were lazy and didn’t have any ‘safer’ restaurants planned; maybe it was because there was a Groupon offer. The restaurant is pretty empty when you visit, and you wonder whether you’ve been given a lemon. But then your expectations are exceeded, so much so that it may well have been your best find of the year.
That was me, with a restaurant called Sage Bistronomy. Except cue the Korean tear-jerker plotline: the day we visited was the restaurant’s last. It was April 1. A bad April Fool’s? No; cry me a river. But the story had a happy ending: Restaurant Plage. Thank you, Tomoyuki Usui, for not giving up on running a restaurant in Sydney – one of the hardest things you could do.
Plage bills itself as a Modern Australian restaurant, though French-Japanese is a more useful description. It won’t win 3 hats in the Good Food Guide, but its approach in bringing together a menu that’s priced almost too affordably with fine-dining techniques and ingredients in a setting that could well have been the local no-name no-frills cafe won me over, completely. ‘Hidden gem’ is a term used far too often, but here’s a restaurant that absolutely deserves the title.
None of the restaurants in this post should surprise long-time readers/followers, and Cavalier should be one of the least surprising entries on the list. While many cafes that are otherwise successful in operating a daytime trade have tried and failed to implement a full-fledged dinner service, that my favourite cafe in Sydney is able to produce a stellar dining experience is somewhat less of a shock to the system. It’s also not much of a spoiler alert, given its inclusion in this list.
It’s food that makes you think twice and double back, such as house-baked chicken fat challah with charred greens & parsnip, or a off-beat house-made kimchi fermented over 8 months, served with fish. It provides suitably many ‘did not expect that’ moments coupled with wow factor, such as the most intensely-flavourful ice creams that actually taste like their headline flavours, each taking more than 2 days to make. Finally, the experience is perhaps closer to a private dinner party whose host just happens to have a fine dining background (yes, this does describe chef-owner Harry Kolotas; it would be unfair to dismiss this as not having influenced Cavalier’s trajectory).
Most importantly, it’s the kind of meal you won’t find anywhere else in Sydney. For those on the outlook for something different, Cavalier is the answer: for both your cafe and dining fixes. The current string of dinners is unfortunately invitation-only, as Harry works on refining the concept and taking on as much feedback as possible. Will it ever launch as a fully-fledged restaurant? Your should hope so.
Charred water spinach, parsnip puree & black onyx sauceWalnut ice cream w/caviarSquid ink pasta, blue swimmer crab, brown butter sauce
LuMi made it into my 2017’s top 10 with a pasta dish, but its entry this year as a restaurant is overdue. After all, on balance, it would almost be impossible to grandstand a single dish as being representative of what Federico Zanellato and team can do: that would be a shoehorning offence of the highest order.
Indeed, I’ve made seven visits to LuMi and continue to reaffirm its status as one of my favourites in Sydney. It’s the kind of place that features on every type of list I send to people who ask me for recommendations on what to eat in our fair city – though at $150pp, it perhaps won’t make an appearance on the ‘cheap eats’ list. It’s the restaurant I take gastrotourists to when they come to Sydney, the one I recommend for special occasions, the one I think of when I think ‘best fine dining’ (honorable mention: Bennelong), the one for best fusion cuisine; simply, the kind for best food.
Yeah, LuMi’s bloody great. And with their latest revamps to their menu (#ISHLuMi), it’s only getting better.
Ooft, this was a tough one. You see, I visited two excellent – excellent – yakiniku restaurants this year (one per Japan trip, coincidentally), and both would be #1 and #2 in this respective category. However, if there was one I’d immediately return to, it would be Jumbo Hanare.
Yakiniku means grilled meat, and as such this entry is certainly not for the vegetarians. However, for those who could figuratively (and maybe literally) eat a cow, this is absolutely and unequivocally the best beef-focussed restaurant I’ve been to in my life (well, with perhaps a small exception to a restaurant starting with M in Kyoto…).
The details will come out in the blog post, but suffice it to say beef omakase is a thing: we were served multiple cuts of Kuroge Wagyu in multiple ways – zabuton, gyutan, rump, sirloin, upper rib, wagyu sushi etc. each of which goes into one of two different sauces. There are also not-so-secret secret menu items (but I won’t go into that now :P) that really amp up the crack-addiction factor. You, the diner, do little: the chef (in our case, head chef Norimitsu Nanbara himself!) does the cooking. After all, it is in nobody’s interests for an inexperienced diner to butcher (pun intended) a cut of prime A5.
Of course, (almost) anyone with the money and network can acquire top-quality wagyu. As it is with such restaurants, the secret’s in the sauces, the marinades, pairings, and the skill of the chef in producing the output that ultimately gets consumed. Jumbo Hanare sits right up there with the very best. I literally drooled while typing out this entry. It’s that good.
ChateaubriandWagyu sushiNoharayaki – marinated sirloin to be mixed w/egg yolk
If I describe a restaurant whose food is as delicious as it is intellectually exciting, you could be forgiven in thinking that this is more a criticism than compliment. Orana is not that kind of restaurant. For perhaps only the second time in my life, I’m able to answer the question ‘what is Australian cuisine?’, to which Orana is the obvious answer. It took the ironically non-Australian chef Jack Zonfrillo (he’s Irish) to really, really get out there into Australia’s figurative heart and discover the ingredients, customs and techniques that have shaped Australian cooking over literally over 50,000 years.
As you might expect, exotic ingredients like Davidson Plum, bunya nuts, quandongs and green bush ants may not always tickle everyone’s fancy. But the dishes that worked, worked beautifully, and as an experience I feel strongly that everyone with at least some self-professed interest in food – for food’s sake – should make at least one visit here. It’s a mind-expanding exercise for even the most seasoned diner, a positive byproduct of Australia’s geographical separation from the rest of the world. If you don’t think long and hard during and after a meal at Orana, you truly must have had it all.
In Japan, good sushi is a dime a dozen. Great sushi? The same. To leave an impression then is to be a maverick, but without losing touch with the fundamentals, all the while being just as good, or even better than your competition. And of course, it must leave a powerful memory – how can you say a restaurant’s excellent if you can’t recall anything about it? For me, Kimura fits this bill.
Chef-owner Koji Kimura is widely praised as the godfather of aged sushi. When talking sushi and seafood, those new to the cuisine will understandably think that ‘fresh is best’, while those with more experience know that some fish require aging to bring out their true potential – just as you would age a cut of beef. Aging times of between 2-8 days is commonplace – fish simply can’t be aged for too long. Or so you’d think. Kimura pushes the boundaries far further than what’s thought possible. At Kimura, 8 days is laughably short: try fifty days.
Like you, I’d have thought that this would render the sushi inedible, yet instead it’s the key to some of the most delicious examples I’ve had. The textures are softer, more subtle, the rice made harder to emphasise its importance, with overall flavours strong, passionate, and extremely memorable. Watching Kimura’s skills with a knife is also pure theatre. Excellent sushiya, excellent experience, excellent restaurant.
I’ve been putting off writing a blog post on Dan Barber’s epic restaurant because I honestly don’t know how to start, or finish for that matter. A meal at Blue Hill is figuratively and literally massive. Like several other restaurants on this list that wield incredible influence on the hearts and minds of chefs and foodies, Blue Hill is as much an exercise in food ethics and the philosophical ideal future of food, expressed through its dishes that are largely sourced from its own working farm – living by example. A meal can last over 6 hours. It can be insane.
If all that’s a bit much to you I kind of agree: it’s a lot to take in and can be metaphorical indigestion. It’s certainly not the place you take a first date to, or to serve as your first foray into fine dining, and it certainly isn’t where you’d want to go go if you’re not at least a little serious about all the stuff that happens prior to plating. I understand the latter comment may come off as exclusionary and elitist, but I’m genuinely saying you could have a better time with the same money spent elsewhere.
BUT, if you re-watch Chef’s Table, tend your own produce garden, own enough recipe cookbooks to put your bookshelf at peril and book restaurants before your flights, this is your restaurant. You will love it, I did too and can’t wait to visit again.
Vegetables from the garden‘Shellfish if they met the farm’Cold-cured egg yolk & oyster
No. Surprises. At. All. It’s seafood, it’s Noma, it’s Rene Redzepi at his best. It can be difficult to separate a restaurant’s fame with the actual dining experience and quality of the meal itself. I’m of the opinion that you can’t fully divorce the two, especially in the minds of diners (which includes yours truly) that visit, in part, because the restaurant occupies a numerical position in a ranked listicle (the irony of this post, then). Sometimes, this is just how it is at the high-end.
That said, if another unknown, young chef were to have come up with the Noma experience, I would be very surprised if that restaurant didn’t quickly shoot up the ranks. My meal at Noma earlier this year, in its revamped location was incredible, to the point where I could almost recount every dish and how it tasted off the top of my head. The blog post was at once both the easiest and most difficult to write: not wanting to hype it too much, but needing to balance it against my utmost respect for Rene has done with the new Noma. The fact that he wasn’t there that day was indeed a bummer, but in the end I tried to be as objective as possible and let the food do as much of the talking as possible: it is difficult to imagine a purer, more delicious expression of the panache that is Nordic seafood. An experience that, to this blogger at least, lived up to the hype.
Like any foodie, I enjoy French cuisine. However – and I could be crucified for this – I easily tire of it: its richness means I can only take in small bouts at a time. I could eat Japanese food for a week straight without problems, but to do the same with French (where the average fine dining course appears to be in excess of 4000 calories) and a hospital bed better have my name on it. Nevertheless, there are few cuisines executed with the same technical precision, and steeped in history and tradition, there was never any doubt a French restaurant was going to make its way onto this list.
I contemplated long and hard (while assuming the pose of The Thinker, no less) as to why Yannick Alléno’s Ledoyen did it for me over other established venues such as Guy Savoy, Arpège or Pierre Gagnaire – all good restaurants in and of themselves. In the end, it was all the usual factors that would elevate a restaurant to this level in the first place: the dining experience, where the 2-story garden pavilion’s dining room provided fanciful accoutrements without being made to feel like a king (I’m not a fan of genuflecting service). Then there’s the meal itself, an orgy of courses where very few were mediocre (only two or three, out of over 15!). But what ultimately sealed the deal for me were the desserts: at a 3 Michelin star level, perfectly cooked everything is the norm. Send me off with a sweet, sweet food coma and I’ll love you for it, even as I hate myself. Ledyon’s desserts numbered thirteen. Yes, 13. I’m spelling that out in both letters and numbers so you know that’s not a typo. Obviously, some were just single bites, but thirteen.
Too much? Yeah, definitely. But my god, that won me over. I’ll be checking myself into hospital now.
Brioche that proofs at the tableSuper slow-cooked turbot‘Chai latte’ & chocolate cream
These were the best and most memorable meals I had for 2018, and it is clearly a colourful ensemble. While 10-15 more restaurants could easily have joined the list, here we are. Interesting list, no? I would be extremely surprised if you agreed with even half it. Subjectivity is divergence by definition and nature; and at the very top, it’s most divergent of all.
If you have a top ten of 2018 to share with the reasons why, I’d love to hear it in the comments below
In last week’s post, I talked a little bit about how 2018 was, effectively, a dream lived in real life. Then again, the horrific bites of the Horse Fly that I was subjected to on my latest trip – a four day hike in the Australian Alps – reminded me that I was very much alive. Of course, even that was only a shadow compared to the pain and humiliation in mistaking a rabbit for a bird. If you understood that reference then congratulations: your Instagram-sleuthing skills deserve an A+. I still make no apologies for the gaffe. It’s how we um, grow, as adults.
Talk about tangential introductions. 2018 was big, really big. There was no way I could talk about ‘just’ 10 restaurants. It would be like picking your favourite children: no parent will publicly claim to have any, even though they all do in secret. I’ve never been afraid to tell it like it is, and so last week’s post was exactly that. But hey, sometimes, you could just return to the same place again and again, for the same order of legal crack again and again.
And so with that, I present the top ten dishes of 2018. For fairness and more variety, I deliberately excluded any dishes from the top ten restaurants.
Sorry for not including the spoiler tags, but I’m sure you didn’t need them.
In what is another non-surprise, noodles dominate this list in frequency, and one of my favourite small bars makes one of the best. Chilli crab, to be specific. Oh sorry, forgot the spoiler tags again.
Monkey’s Corner has a particular recipe for firmness and mouthfeel they get their suppliers to custom produce for them. Needless to say the noods and I matched better than 99.99% of Tinder dates, to the point where I had to take a packet home to recreate something that somewhat NSFW (A++ if you remember this dish from my IG stories). But back to Monkey’s Corner’s version: when paired with the Poernomo’s godly flavourful ‘Grandma’s style’ chilli crab sauce, thickened with a little bit of French goodness (hint hint) and you have a dish I literally came back for on a weekly basis for some time.
Oh shit, another bowl of noodles. I admit I can be incredibly one-dimensional, but this laksa is anything but. Earlier this year, I did a ‘best of X in Sydney’ on this underrated dish, and while I concluded that most entries are worthy of your carb intake, Laksa King inched just past the honourable mentions of Happy Chef and Malay Chinese by a single strand to take out the gong. This was a slightly controversial choice given Malay Chinese has a legion of supporters (yours truly being one of them), but this is the truth I believe in: if both locations were equidistant from where I work, I’d visit the King more.
In any case, if laksa hasn’t really been on your radar in lieu of other popular substitutes such as pho and ramen, get planning and get slurping.
Wow I’ve got to stop this: last noodle dish, I swear. No, seriously. Sometimes I’m so Asian it’s embarrassing. However, to leave out ramen simply because it’s another noodle dish would be lying to myself. There were so, so many good bowls that contended this year: honourable mentions go to Bon Japanese in Canterbury and Rokurinsha in Tokyo, not to mention the simple fact that every bowl of ramen I’ve had in 2018 has been enjoyable. But once again I have to pick the favourite child. To that, I ask one question: if I were to eat one bowl again, which one would it be?
I’ll happily cross the event horizon, and enter Gogyo’s black hole. No euphemisms, seriously. Gogyo’s dark, broody ramen comes about with its signature ‘burnt’ style using high heat (the infrared thermometers are brought out) and slightly charring the ramen’s tare – whether that be soy sauce or miso paste.
Goddamn. A ramen that might actually, literally give you cancer. Why can’t we have our ramen and drink the soup too?
The best tonkatsu I’ve ever had is at a literal hole in the wall called Narikura, while the best tonkatsu in Sydney is piled on top of a bowl of perfectly-cooked koshihikari rice. Paired with impossibly silky egg with a miso sesame sauce, and the combination is one of many reasons why Juan Bowl and Tea has made such waves in Sydney’s dining scene in 2018.
While an appointment with a cardiologist wouldn’t be a completely terrible idea afterwards, the cost is well worth the effort. And heck, if you don’t like tonkatsu, you can get pretty much any other dish from this exclusively donburi-focussed restaurant and have an award-winning experience without the actual pomp and pageantry.
There’s no questioning that Japanese sushi chefs have access to the best seafood and talent in the world, and that a B-grade sushi chef there would be A-grade anywhere else. But rules are proven by their exceptions. They are rare by definition, but where they exist, they delight and stupefy in equal measure. Sydney’s own Takashi Sano at Sokyo is a shining beacon – one of few – that light the way towards great sushi in our city.
While I’ve made it no secret that Sokyo’s sushi omakase is quite literally the pinnacle of sushi in our city (notwithstanding my aversion to its dining environment, which is a different story), to say that some of Sano’s work is comparable to that of what I had in Japan is a different story. Or is it?
Well you do you I guess, because I can only do me. And Sano’s crispy salmon nigiri, while wildly nontraditional and would never fly in Japan, takes wings here. Gosh, we’re lucky to have him, producing sushi such as this particular piece so it can grace my belly again and again, and again.
At the time of writing, the omakase is booked out 9 months in advance till September. How’s that for a waiting list?
New Yorkers, feel free to call me out for putting the most cliché’d, hyped and overtouristed institution in the Big Apple in this list. With a bellyful of Katz’s pastrami, I can take it. I can take all of it.
Whenever I visit a food destination that’s so popular, so saturated with coverage that they have their own counter-movement and even attract a sort of standoffish derision from people who take pride in ‘knowing better’ than the clueless tourist that’s only here because of its larger-than-life reputation, I try to keep my expectations tempered. After all it is true that some of the time, a ‘oh, that was nice, but was that it?’ moment tends to result. Expectations management sucks.
I didn’t get that at Katz’s Deli. That pastrami sandwich was wicked. And yes, coming from Sydney, that doesn’t really set the best benchmark of how good a pastrami sammy could taste, but golly I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I am so happy this place opened my eyes to the pleasures of meat on meat on meat. Oh, and in between bread.
Yeah, there are probably better places for this kind of stuff, but man, if I had an extra sandwich from Katz’s every time someone tells me it’s overrated, I’ll die very happy, and very quickly.
Osteria Francescana is one of those restaurants that delivers on its premise if you buy into its narrative. At the highest levels of cooking, storytelling is important; however, if it doesn’t resonate, you won’t feel the connection. I admittedly didn’t, which is why notwithstanding the restaurant’s bucket-list status, I’ve had better meals, as far as the cooking goes.
Massimo Bottura’s infamous Five Ages of Parmiagiano Reggiano was an exception among the exceptions. While I admit I chortled a bit at the dishe’s somewhat haughty description – the white monochrome is a portrait of the Modenese landscape covered in fog and silence (whoa) – the product itself was, as I noted in my blog post: perfection. It is at its apogee. It cannot be improved. It is the kind of dish that could replace all other savouries of this meal, and I would be happier for it.
Yeah. The rest of the meal was fine, but I would make another reservation just to have this again. And up size it too, while I’m at it.
Funny how like tends to attract like. Just as I finish off the greatest savoury cheese course I’ve ever had, comes the greatest cheesecake I’ve ever had. I mentioned in the heading hyperlink that if you’ve visited Japan, like cheese and haven’t had LeTAO’s products, you haven’t visited Japan as far as I’m concerned.
This may be mass-produced, but there’s more under the surface – literally. Hokkaido milk & Italian Mascarpone come together to marry a raw and a baked layer, producing two different textures and flavours into a harmonious whole. This proves that heaven is a two-tiered, and both feature cheese.
Scientific research has shown that cheese can be ‘as addictive as hard drugs’, triggering some of the same receptors in the brain. God, I am so screwed if LeTAO ever begins distributing here. Back when I first discovered this cake, I would buy one and fully solo it in one sitting. It felt so bad.
And yet, here we are. A bowl of H2O, albeit in a different state, with a sugary calories strategically placed with care in both location and concentration, producing one of the most wonderfully complete dishes since ice cream for breakfast became a thing. I am fully aware of my Japan bias when I say that kakigōri sits at the pinnacle of shaved ice desserts in the same way that Everest is the pinnacle of all mountains: both are damn cool. I like it more than than bingsoo (which I rate as a close second), Taiwanese-style snow ice (third), ice kacang (I’ve only ever had coarse, ‘rough’ versions that have never done it for me), or Hawaiian snow cones.
The cliché of Japanese refinement is once again the simple reason why a bowl of water and some syrups can snowball itself into a top ten list. Kakigōri is layered slowly and carefully, with sweetening agents (almost always natural, of course) interspersed such that each spoonful is full of flavour without being overly sweet. The whole show is then often topped by a layer of cream that represents the overall intended flavour. As you can imagine, seasonal variants exist.
Mayoor Tea House produces the best Kakigōri I’ve personally had (though shoutouts to last year’s Kurogi). It’s everything in the last paragraph, but as close to perfection as I’ve come across. My flavour pick: avocado milk. It might change your life in a way that avocado on toast never could. It did for me.
Speaking of life-changing desserts, The Fat Duck’s bortrytis cinerea fits the bill, notwithstanding the $500+ bill to get a hold of it via the restaurant’s tasting menu. This is still my favourite dessert of all time for reasons that go beyond the dish’s technical brilliance and execution. My first visit to The Duck was one of the best meals of my life and is an experience that is unlikely to be ever replicated again. You only fall in love like that once in your life. As such, the reasons for its inclusion here are about as irrational as I’ll get.
I’ve been fortunate to have had this masterpiece grace my belly twice more on two subsequent visits to Heston’s maniacal temple of theatrical gastronomy. It’s a dessert requiring enough steps to constitute its own recipe book, with a result that elevates the humble grape to the highest levels. Then again, that it uses the greatest dessert wine in the world as a key element kinda helps. You can certainly make the argument that the return on investment (both in cost and technical difficulty) is low – think of all the gelato you can get for the cost of one of these! But that’s not how life works, and I’m quite okay with that.
All this, from a fungal rot. Oh food, you can be so funny sometimes.
Man, 2019 has some huge shoes to fill. I can’t wait to eat what’s next
This post is based entirely on independently-paid visits to all venues featured in the post.
What does it take to fly over the coldest, driest, windiest, and most inhospitable continent on Earth?
You might want to bring some sunnies, and a camera. That’s about it.
A few weeks ago, I left home at just past the crack of dawn and headed for Sydney Airport’s Domestic Terminal. Our flight? QF2904, with our boarding passes helpfully reading ‘Mystery Flight’. Of course, it’s all in jest: our destination is the least-visited continent on Earth. It almost felt a little bit exclusive.
Yes. Actual view.
And really, it kind of was. Antarctica Flights is the only company in the world to do chartered sightseeing flights over the great southern continent. With only four or five flights a year, it’s not wrong to say that this is an experience as rare as actually setting foot on Antarctic soil snow. And as it is only a flight – there is no landing, it makes for a most curious Sydney-Sydney itinerary. Wheels up at 8am, back to Sydney in time for bed.
Accurate, haha
I’ve always wanted to visit Antarctica. I think, notwithstanding the cold, all of us have the same spark of curiosity. Antarctica is in many ways, one of the last great unknowns on land. A desolate place that has almost nothing, and yet teaches us so much. Plus, it’s just so damn big, and icy – yet it’s technically a desert. While I may embark on an expedition there one day, a sightseeing flight that allows me to take it in for less than a day’s effort? Done deal.
Being a sightseeing flight, seating is ya know, kinda important. With 25 years of experience, Antarctica Flights has this down pat. There are seven tiers of pricing that spans the Boeing 747’s economy, premium economy and business class seats. Most arrangements feature a seating rotation halfway during the flight, which gives everyone the fairest shot at getting a view out the window. The cheapest – appropriately named ‘economy centre’ for it spans the middle two seats in economy – does not rotate. That comes in at $1199. While that seems like a bit of a cop-out (you’re stuck in the middle and don’t even get a window!), the atmosphere on the flight was electric: people were more than happy to let others have a view out their window and everyone walks freely around the aircraft – within their own class, at least. You might not believe me, but this was a near-sold out flight, so make of that what you will.
Qantas’ 747 business class seating is quite dated, but did the job fine. Oh and hi @stephwoon
The most expensive class – Ice Class – is a test of one’s credit limit at $7999. For that price, you’re seated in the nose of the plane, served champagne in addition to all the other business class perks and a gift pack that contains quite a collection of goodies. As with any Qantas flight, a full in-flight service that’s commensurate to one’s seating class is provided by the Qantas crew that staff the plane alongside Antarctica Flight’s own staff, who are more on hand to teach and inform.
The goodie bag for Ice Class passengers contains the usual branded stuff (hats, bottle sleeves etc.) and a ton of material (including books) on Antarctica. However, these penguin plushies pretty much did it!
Frequent flyers will appreciate the nerdy fact that this is one of those blue moon moments where a 747 ‘Queen of the Skies’ departs from a domestic terminal, enters international waters (the Antarctic Treaty Zone) and yet check-in doesn’t require anything more than a driver’s licence. We collected our boarding passes at the departure gate itself, rather than at the check-in counters and took in the palpable energy of those about to embark on the ‘world’s most unique day trip’. Most other passengers appeared to be seniors or three-generation families. All wore big smiles and even bigger cameras. A large contingent of them even took overseas flights for the express purpose of catching this one. Needless to say, a photo opportunity with a human-sized penguin mascot was in high demand. Heck, even a Channel 7 crew was on-board filming it all!
After grabbing our boarding passes, we shuffled back to the Qantas Domestic Business Lounge for a quick breakfast (that 6am wake-up killed…) and coffee before boarding.
A quick breakfast at the lounge. Note our dual boarding passes – even Ice Class rotates
We were told that the flight would be roughly 13 hours: 4.5 hours from Sydney to the first icebergs, 4 hours of flyovers of the continent itself, and then 4.5hrs back to Sydney. Other than a military exercise off the NSW coast that added half an hour to the flight time, things were pretty much bang on schedule.
Leaving Sydney, temporarily! En route
The Lady’s breakfast: a huge croissant that’s even better than the one in the lounge
My breakfast: pearl barley risotto w/peas, broad beans, speck, parmesan & serrano ham. Quite delicious but too salty
The champagne available to Ice Class
Let’s just say I tried REALLY hard to get my money’s worth with this
It may be nearly 5 hours before we see the first bits of white that aren’t clouds, but Captain Greg Fitzgerald (as well as Captain Owen Weaver & Rob Meek, who are not coincidentally some of Qantas’ most experienced 747 pilots) played two documentaries on repeat through the in-flight entertainment system; this, along with on-board lecturers Peter Hicks, Peter Attard and David Dodd who are all deeply experienced with Antarctica in their own way kept us plenty occupied. After all, if you’re on the plane, presumably you have some interest in learning a thing or two about our great southern neighbour.
Peter Attard in particular was MC throughout much of the flight and kept things highly interesting while we were gliding towards and over the polar ice caps.
Bought some raffle tickets to support the Mawson Hut Foundation. Didn’t win anything which describes my life pretty well!
‘I have no idea where I am’
The first signs of ice – but just an island several hundred km from Antarctica proper
Ok no kidding, this prawn & celery brioche roll is probably one of the best things I’ve had on a Qantas flight
My beef koftas w/Moroccan eggplant, pearl couscous & coriander yoghurt was not too bad either!
While the atmosphere was already electric, it was positively crackling when we saw the first signs of ice. For the next four hours it was snap, snap, snap, interspersed with too many instances of ‘wow’, ‘oh my god’ and ‘amazing’. Even I underestimated just how awed I would be upon seeing Antarctica for the first time. This is truly an otherworldly place, yet not far at all from our doorsteps. The sheer magnitude of it just blew me away.
PICTURE FLOOD INCOMING – click/tap on an image to expand
First contact
A lonely iceberg
Incredible
Sky meets Antarctica
White as far as the eye can sea
Antarctica has many mountains that are taller than anything Australia’s got
The glaciers were some of the most impressive sights
Mount Melbourne
Tessellation
Black & white
That glacier!!!
There is a base in this photo. I wonder if you can find it!
Zucchelli Station is the Italian base and it can be seen in this photo
Frozen vibes, anyone?
Zuccheli station’s runway can be seen in the neat rectangle
Jang Bogo Station (Korea’s base) can be seen here
Here’s the thing about a sightseeing flight that even an expedition that takes you personally there can’t offer: the vantage point. Any scepticism I had about not getting a clear view were pleasingly dashed – the pilot takes the plane down to an altitude as low as 700 metres above ground, which is insane considering that normal cruising altitude is around 10000 metres. Those that get plane sick should bring their travacalm: the captain does several figure 8s to ensure the best views, and sometimes banks the plane so hard that the seatbelt sign would be flashing and flight attendants would be seated if this were any other flight. I actually nearly fell a few times, but this isn’t on them: I found it kinda fun! Pair this with the 747’s rather large, pre-cleaned windows, and it made for a view and experience that’s completely unique unto itself. A comparison to being on the ground? Apples and oranges. The one downside? Don’t expect to see any penguins!
One concern I did have was about weather; however, Qantas supposedly has 19 different flight plans from which to choose depending on these conditions, and it’s rare that Antarctica is blanketed in clouds such that the majority of the flight path is obscured. Thankfully, we had excellent viewing, but it’s always a gamble with these things.
Hot chocolate, not that we were cold by any means
Bread service for dinner
Salad of duck w/grilled squid, cucumber, herbs, cashews, chilli & lime dressing. Pretty good, albeit again leaning on the salty side
Chicken biriyani w/roasted pumpkin & raita. I also quite enjoyed this but that roast beef stole my heart
You made the right call Qantas
You made the right call!
While I pretty much spent the entirety of the day’s daylight hours cooped up in a plane, a great sense of exhaustion took over me in the final minutes of our flyover segment. Truly, I was spent revelling in the incredulity of being on such a flight, as well as the rather fierce rays of the Antarctic sun! I expected I’d enjoy the flight, but to enjoy it as much as I did was a genuine surprise. Suffice it to say, I made good use of the flat bed on the return segment to Sydney.
Best flight map ever
The experience wasn’t of course, perfect: snacks ran short during service, and there’s too much of a gap between the breakfast and dinner service. On the flip side, the champagne was always ready to go.
This was also not my first time on this flight. You see, originally, we were scheduled to depart on November 24; however, an issue with a satellite uplink module on the aircraft failed to boot up even after we had pushed back from the gate. For the first time in Antarctica Flights’ 25 year history, a flight had to be cancelled – and yours truly happened to be on said flight. It was fortunate that the replacement flight on February 24 worked out well without drama. I can only imagine how inconvenienced those who flew from other states, even countries must have been.
But even with all that said, I should point out that the plane’s precise model is a Boeing 747-400 ER (Extended Range) – one of only six left in operation, with Qantas owning all of them. It is the only aircraft type that can fulfil the mission requirements of this flight, with newer models are not quite up to the task. Qantas has expressed their intention to retire these planes within the next few years, so if you’ve been holding out on visiting the freezer, it may be time to pull the trigger.
How about that, a new decade. I’m thankful the blog hasn’t been around for that long, because rounding up ten ‘best’ restaurants is already one of the hardest things I’ve had do to – and that included some of the longesttravelpieces I’ve churned out in the last year. I certainly had more than ten excellent meals during over the past year, but coming up with listicles like these get clicks forces me to hit pause and reflect – like, for a really long time – though I needn’t have tried too hard, as the results are almost laughably skewed towards my biases.
But I like to think I’ve been pretty balanced with my picks without having to ‘moderate away’ the bias from the Land of the Rising Sun. Korea makes a surprise showing, and Bali has punched well above its weight. Heck, even a restaurant that got its fame from vegemite roti – of all things – managed to make its way on here. Ultimately, Japanese or Japanese-influenced cuisine still rules this roost. It is what it is. The criteria this year is imperfect, as it must be: the food must be excellent, the experience inimitable, the impression lasting. That’s as good as it’s going to get.
I’ve also written up a similar post but on my top ten dishes of 2019, available here[pending – ETA 11 Jan].
All restaurants featured in this post were based on independently-paid visits.
Notes:
Restaurants are not ranked. It’s already a top ten list!
Only restaurants that are permanent establishments are on the list. Thus, pop-ups and other events of a temporary nature are excluded.
Cafe Paci
Cafe Paci
It’s very, very difficult to elucidate the je n’ais ce quoi that makes Pasi Petanan’s hopefully now-permanent venture one of Sydney’s hottest tickets of 2019. As usually is the case in these hard-to-pin-down venues that just have the right stuff, Cafe Paci does all things – big and small – well in a way that few other places manage. As I have a separate review (here), I won’t bog this post down with the detail – suffice it to say, it’s one of Sydney’s most exciting openings of 2019, one I’m going to smash until I see how many visits it takes me to become sick of it.
Likely lots.
Potato & molasses bread w/butter ($4ea). The kind of bread that makes the crust just as deserving of your stomach as the soft, fluffy center.
Devilled egg w/trout roe ($10 for two). The best single bite you can have here. PERFECT.
Chicken liver Paris-Brest w/onion jam ($16). I’ll take this over the dessert version of Paris-Brest nine times out of ten.
Carrot sorbet w/yoghurt & licorice ($15). The cult classic: no words required.
A dessert trio – gotta try them all!
Matilda 159
Open flames, open everything really at Matilda 159
If you don’t live in Melbourne, I’ll catch you up: Scott Pickett is a name that carries clout in Melbourne – Australia’s best food city (now come at me, fellow Sydneysiders). Saint Crispin, ESP (now closed) and Matilda; all his restaurants, all household names – depending on the household (a woke Melbourne one, probably). Matilda is possibly Pickett’s finest establishment, but also eminently approachable. Think of it as Melbourne’s equivalent of Firedoor: everything is burned but not burnt. Fire caresses everything, the heat emanating from the open kitchens and controlled chaos of its open fires will leave you with little doubt. But no, this is hardly rustic dining: the ochre wood ceiling, plush seats and lengthy leather banquette seating evoke the image of a luxury hunter’s lodge, except you don’t have to do the hunting or cooking. You’ll just have to do some forking – of your wallet.
Decor and vibe aside, the only way a restaurant can make this kind of list if is everything coming out of the kitchen is nothing less than stellar and lives up the promise set up by that kitchen. From the ostensibly cliché but-actually-f*ck-yum prawn butter w/spanner crab to the refreshingly tart goldband snapper w/leche de tigre, everything was On. Damn. Point. The highlight – and what catapults the restaurant into this list – was the 1.5kg Sher Wagyu tomahawk, which – excuse my language – was basically sex. Yeah I said it, sorry kids. Now to get yourself some.
A half-eaten pineapple tarte tartin because I was in the bathroom at the wrong time tsk tsk
Kensington pride mango, macadamia & jasmine
Sumo mandarin, buttermilk & geraldton wax
Lemon myrtle meringues
Seizan
Seizan
No matter how above-it-all we think of ourselves, the hype train takes no prisoners, especially when the three ‘pillars of influence’ (yeah, I totally made this up) – critics, reputable friends and an initial bias towards the cuisine – align. A Tabelog Silver award, universal praise from everyone I know who’s been and well, you know what I think of Japanese cuisine. Actual catnip.
Seizan’s inclusion in this list is reflective of both its technical excellence, but also a cavalier attitude that goes against a Platonic notion of what kaiseki ‘ought’ to be. My meal here did technically include many elements of the kaiseki playbook, but it takes great liberties with the formula, which is how Seizan crafts its own identity in an otherwise identikit, conformist landscape. If you’ve eaten in Japan enough you’ll know that beneath the teeming variety is a surprising rigidity. It’s impossible for me to explain this without a whole post in and of itself, but an example at Seizan was the matsubagani (snow crab) croquette w/onion sauce. You would never find this at a ‘normal’ kaiseki, in the same way as no normal person would order a well-done steak, but it’s arguable that the whole field is elevated by dishes like these, which push the cuisine forward.
Highly inventive, with highly delicious results, Seizan is a restaurant that’s at the top of its game – and in Tokyo no less. An easy top ten for me.
Ankimo, goma-e
Crab dumpling, mibuna
Lobster, onsen egg dip
Tara shirako rice
Game duck, gobo mochi
Sawara, karasumi
Matsubagani cream croquette, onion sauce
Lobster w/lobster miso
Saga beef, ebiimo manjuu, sansho
Matsubagani gohan
Orange & cointreau pudding
Sugalabo
Sugalabo
At 26 years of age, Yosuke Suga became the executive chef at L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon in Tokyo. Let that fact sink in and consider what you were doing at 26. Ouch, I know. With that kind of talent honed with a full 16 years working with Mr Robuchon, it was clear that any venture of his own is almost guaranteed to be world-class. As it turned out, it was a laboratory – Suga’s Lab – where Suga-san explores the very best Japan has to offer and applies his French training; a restaurant that is one of the very best examples of the Japanese-French movement.
In what way is it a ‘lab’? Well, approximately once a month, Suga and his team travel around Japan, taking names, searching for inspiration and the ingredients to make it happen. As such, the restaurant can be thought of as an eternally-evolving test kitchen, since perfection only exists as an ideal to be strived for. During these jaunts, the entire restaurant closes: that’s how serious Suga is about the craft.
Needless to say, a meal here – at around 55k JPY/$700AUD – isn’t cheap. But the initial hurdle is even getting in to begin with. Yep, it’s one of those ichigen-san okotowari restaurants – you’ll need to be introduced by the right people. But once you’re in, the experience is worth every last dollar. He sources the very best ingredients – such as translucently-thin ham from BON DABON in Gifu (the only certified Parma ham producer in Japan), or seafood & veg from Ishikawa prefecture – AKA the food bowl of Japan. Of courses, there are the gratuitous – but appreciated, given the nature of the experience – luxuries such as Alba white truffles and Iranian caviar. Where he can’t get the best, he’ll do it himself – he owns his very own rice farm which supplies the restaurant’s rice, and you’d better believe you can taste the difference. Getting a bag of it to take home is an added bonus.
Truly nonpareil. An easy inclusion in the list.
Ikura monaka
Snow crab stock chawanushi, tara shirako, gingko nuts, crab foam & Alba white truffle
Salted egg yolk quiche, Iberian chorizo, confit lemon, brown butter
Parsut ham from BON DABON, draped over shinmai rice
Pigeon landais, foie gras, porcini pithivier, heart & bone sauce w/red wine; 20 herb salad
Sugalabo’s famous curry rice
Komisu pear jelly, foam, & Williams Pear Liquer jelly
Baba au rum w/chantilly cream & vanilla bean ice cream
Lemongrass herbal tea
Chocolate & coffee mousse in a torajiro egg shell
Locavore
I’ve waxed sufficiently lyrical on this Modern Indo-fine diner so this’ll be short: Locavore is a restaurant that lives up to its namesake in a way that makes most other venues with a claim on the word seem gratuitous. Not to diminish them of course, but Eelke Plasmeijer and Ray Adriansyah play the game almost unfairly well. 95% of the produce is Indonesian, and specific dishes celebrate can get hyperlocal, an amazing example being ‘Into The Sawah’, a single-dish panopticon that represents everything that lives, grows and swims in the Ubud rice fields.
It’s easy to ‘go local; it’s relatively much harder to build a restaurant around the concept that’s worthy of inclusion on the World’s 50 Best. Tasty food still needs to be king, and that’s exactly what Locavore does so, so right and so, so consistently.
‘A coconut fell on the beach’ – sumba oyster, young coconut, smoked mussel vinaigrette, oyster emulsion, sea grapes, rambutan, kaffir lime leaf oil. Technically this is the start of the menu but I feel like I’ve already been blown away for hours.
‘Eat your heart out 2.0’ (apparently I missed 1.0?) – beef heart ‘pastrami’, mulberry coffee vinaigrette, pickled mulberries, trijata capers, red amaranth leaves, beef garum powder.
‘Lobster tartar’ – almost citrus oil-marinated lobster, coconut pickled heart of palm, aromatic oils, shallot lemongrass sambal, warm lobster gel, sriracha chilli powder, cucu melon. Just hit after hit. Another amazing dish.
‘Into the Sawah – AKA everything that lives, grows and swims in and around the Ubud rice fields’ – heritage galuh rice porridge, 64C duck egg yolk, snails, frog leg abon, fern tips, wildflowers.
Fermented cassava bread, coconut yoghurt, smoked coconut & cashew cream, Balinese sambal. Holy ffff. Such doughy bread with amazingly meaty, smoky, and herbaceous flavours. Chilli sesame flavours too. SO GOOD!
Tomato consomme, chilli tomato, tomato sorbet. The most tomato-ey tomato dish I’ve had, perhaps ever.
Black rice blini, salted egg emulsion, pegagan (Asian pennywort) leaves.
Pumpkin leaf w/nori powder. Never had pumpkin leaf before – still learning new things!
A bit fun but also somewhat frustrating (lemongrass stalks do not make good scoops!)
Edible canna lilies, sprayed w/hibiscus, served w/kecombrang puree with drops of cricket oil. Whoa.
‘The things you can do with rice’ – Ikan air tawar, koji rice crust, ginger torch brem sauce, tape-pickled fruits, puffed rice sambal. Overall taste is like that of a laksa, but every segment has its own distinct identity. Now if this isn’t the best dish to ever hero rice coming out of a fine dining restaurant…
‘Black is the new orange’ – carrot slow-roasted in smoked beef fat, kecap glaze, carrot reduction, spiced carrot puree, smoked lacto-fermented carrot powder. So basically, everything carrot and the best carrot dish ever.
Compliments of the chef from the vegetarian menu: deep-fried cassava puree w/garlic butter. There are apparently 17 components in this dish. But I only have two words: so good.
‘Ayam Hitam’ – Jon’s chicken, grilled w/black garlic, garlic confit puree, black garlic kecap emulsion, pickled solo garlic, green garlic oil, crispy-chicken skin cracker. This was a delicious dish but perhaps has the least local ‘Balinese’ feel to it. And yet, that’s our strongest criticism of this restaurant. Yeah, couldn’t really fault it any more than that.
Ice cream sandwich – coriander coconut ice cream, tuak-poached green mango, coriander crackers, green mango gel, lime powder, candied coriander seeds. Your worst nightmare if you’re not a fan of coriander. Otherwise, a delightful treat.
‘Everything palm tree’ – palm sugar caramel gelato, tamarind jam, kaffir lime-pickled palm heart, kolang kaling tamarind candy, palm sugar meringue. This dessert wasn’t exceptional like the rest of Locavore’s dishes, but still provided a sweet, sticky finish.
‘Congklak’ – a traditional game played in Indonesia where shells/seeds are moved from hole to hole to win the game. This is Locavore’s edible version.
Room 4 Dessert
A separate lounge area prepares guests for the first round of the experience, which is at the bar
Chef’s Table, season 4 episode 4, sums everything up in about 45 minutes, but a meal at Room 4 Dessert will take longer: you’re going to need time to digest Will Goldfarb’s twenty-two courses, spread out over three movements, transitioning between the outside bar for ‘entree’ (7 courses), the formal restaurant for ‘mains’ (8 courses) and then the external patio for petit fours-style ‘desserts’ (the final 7). I use quotes because technically everything is a dessert, so the restaurant’s name as accurate as it is sound advice. It might seem like an express ticket to diabetes, but at least Goldfarb knows how to show you a good time with it.
Room 4 Dessert is the Locavore of sweets; an encyclopedia of autochthonous ingredients and Heston-esque dessertification of elements you’d ordinarily consider savoury. As you’d expect, it’s not going to be a universally pleasing experience – when else have you eaten a 20+ course meal and liked every single one – but it’s guaranteed to be one-of-a-kind. You’ll definitely learn something, even if you’ve never cooked an honest meal in your life (hello). If you’re ever in Bali and have tastebuds, leaving Room 4 Dessert is a must. Must. Must. See more in my Bali post here.
Stracciatella, local grape sauce, raddichio, sourdough sorbet & crisp. Whoa.
Offering flower jelly (offering flowers in the background). Too subtle as a palate cleanser.
Smoked pineapple, tarragon oil, sable, frozen whiskey mousse, lime meringue, vanilla ice cream. The pineapple was incredible – smoky & savoury, almost like meat!
Belinjo (a kind of nut native to Indonesia) sable, soursop sorbet, gula melaka & vermouth meringue, coconut nectar chantilly, vermouth gel, chocolate. Holy shit batman so good!
Caramel, cardamom-infused black tea, sea salt lemon & lime bitters
‘Bee’ tuile made w/speculoos cake (a kind of gingerbready-tasting cake).
So cute so good
Pate de fruits made w/rosella kombucha, rosella reduction, rosella leaf capers & rosella sugar. Rosella.
Marshmallow made from cashew nut juice (wtf), toasted cashews
Brown butter & kenari nut financier. I think there’s an entire book that can be devoted to Indonesian nuts.
Ferrero made with candlenut instead of hazelnut, coated with 100% chocolate paste from Tabanan and last covered with the jamun (black plum) powder. Whoa!
Tabanan dark chocolate toffee, chocolate powder & nougatine. In case the finish wasn’t sweet enough. Quite nice!!
Sushi E
A modern take on the sushi dining room. Unfortunately, the fish fridges, like many other sushi restaurants in Sydney, get in the way between the chef and the diners
The word ‘omakase’ literally means ‘[I’ll] leave it to you’. It doesn’t mean a progression of hand-crafted sushi, which is how most people connotate the – though the word being a byproduct of frequent association makes this understandable.
Omakase’s actual meaning as chef agency means that Ha Cheun Wai and Michael Fox are perhaps ironically some of the purer adherents to the spirit of the word. Sushi is definitely served (I mean hey, it is in the name), but it’s Fox – Sushi E’s head chef – that sets Sushi E’s Monday-to-Friday only omakase offering apart from the rest. A bevy of raw and cooked courses a la degustation style – too many to list here but including one of Sydney’s best chawanmushi and a mouthwatering scampi soumen – precede Wai’s unique pieces such as quail egg & caviar gunkan and cuttlefish nigiri with dried shaved sea urchin. If either the sushi or the ‘deg’ were served separately, they would be less for it. A fabulous example of 1+1=3.
Whole mud crab for four
Choux puff w/sea urchin & creme fraiche; pommes soufflé w/Hokkaido scallop tartare & black pearl Siberian caviar
6-day aged bass grouper, nori puree, soy & sesame and wakame oil
…with WA truffles, ponzu-marinated radish & snapper bone broth (really flavourful!)
Coconut sorbet, ginger granita, almond cake & kaffir lime. Southeast Asia in one dessert
Monaka of roasted koshihikari rice ice cream, yuzu marmalade & dark chocolate ice cream
I’m not a fan of chocolate & citrus, so this didn’t do it for me. Looking forward to what the next monaka brings!
Amaru
The open kitchen at Amaru
Three. That’s how many diners – myself included – were having lunch at Amaru in Melbourne’s quiet suburb of Armadale. It was a little too quiet at the 34-seater restaurant, and I worried greatly whether the venue would last. I hope Melbourne’s fine dining community recognise Amaru’s pedigree because this was a sleeper stunner sensation.
The restaurant may be ‘Modern Australian’, but that’s only insofar as there’s no adequate buzz term that can label pigeonhole the restaurant. The cuisine is certainly European-ish: elegant and restrained, as can be seen in the snacks, but Vue De Monde-trained Clinton McIver’s also fully capable of unleashing unadulterated pleasure such as a gob-smackingly beautiful and technical ‘quail cooked like a Christmas ham’, or the best Kangaroo dish this side of Orana.
Ultimately, Amaru is all about the deliciousness in front of the diner that doesn’t come with the philosophical baggage: a good time without the attached lecture. Get the basics right and the story is sure to follow. Here’s to Amaru building a longlasting narrative.
L-R: smoked eel, kohlrabi, pearl barley; pork jowl dim sum, walnut, sourdough starter & black garlic; fermented carrot, pickled vegetable remoulade, smoked duck ham
Khanh Nguyen’s Vegemite roti could almost single-handedly propel Sunda Dining into this list. Yes, the young chef has pretty much completely dominated the mid-tier, Australian-Pan Asian niche in Melbourne, but it was no accident: Nguyen may only be 28 years young, but can cook better than most. As it is typically true for this list’s entrants, the food coming out of his open kitchen in Sunda is peerless. The roti would be your first clue, but while it’s so popular that Sunda has been typecast as ‘that Vegemite roti restaurant’, Nguyen is by no means a one-trick pony. Dishes change with enough frequency that makes the Instagram follow – and the revisits – mandatory.
Nguyen may have started here: one day, other restaurants walking a similar path will be assessed by the line: ‘is it as good as Sunda?’
Potato, quandong, cauliflower, macadamia Thinly sliced potato layered with roasted yeast, curry oil and green peppercorns. Baked, pressed then fried. Topped with curried cauliflower cream, pickled quandongs, nahm jim, fresh herbs and shaved macadamia nut
Fremantle octopus, bush tomato, lemongrass sambal, pickled onion
Clarence river prawns, efu noodles, foie gras curry butter, smoked roe, pepperberry Efu noodles braised in a butter made with curry paste and foie gras, topped with native pepperberry, smoked flying fish roe and salted duck egg yolk. Clarence river prawn heads are fried until crisp and the flesh is finished over wood coals
Rangers valley wagyu, strawberry gum, carrot, sunrise lime satay
Bika Ambon, a cassava cake with a ‘bubbly’, spongy texture from Indonesia
Mingles
Mingles
Who would have thought: fine dining inKorea, of all places? I’ve said it before, but I think it’s galling that Asian cuisine can’t be ‘expensive’ and worthwhile at the same time. The Balinese entrants in this list are obvious examples, and I daresay Kang Mingoo’s Mingles speaks for Korean cuisine.
True to its name, Mingles ‘mingles’, throwing authenticity to the wind and mixing it up while still being recognisably Korean to all but the most old-hat intransigents. Any chef with self-confidence and the experience to back it up knows that ‘authenticity’ more often than not means the wrong thing to the wrong people, and holds cuisine back more often than pushes it forward. But boy, does it take guts to servekalguksu (ordinarily a $10 dish) at a restaurant that runs over $200pp and have diners go ‘yup that was worth it’.
‘Fish mandu’ – a different take on mandu inspired by Korean court cuisine. The fish is the mandu itself, with a ‘filling’ of parsley & mushrooms. Amazing.
Jang noodle – Mingles’ style squid ink & seaweed jang sauce & seasonal seafood pasta. Really well-made and well-cooked noodles; uni was a bit lacklustre. Optional dish (+20,000KRW)
‘Myeolchi guksu’ – noodles in anchovy broth. Light-looking broth but absolutely filled with flavour. Optional dish (+12,000KRW)
Eggshells filled w/egg yolk , Spanish chorizo & green beans. Tasted almost like a pizza!
Lobster & organic vegetables w/beetroot sorbet. This was just average; not the best lobster. +15,000KRW supplement
Korean style braised galbi (kalbi). Such sweet meat! Korean beef is really underrated
Jang trio – doenjang (soybean paste) creme brulee, ganjang (soup soy sauce) pecans & gochujang (chilli bean paste) rice puff; vanilla ice cream, whisky foam. Mingles in one dessert. In one word? Superlative.
Fermented melon sorbet, vanilla meringue, seasonal fruits. Believe it or not, there was a fair bit of kimchi flavour in this. Weird but I liked it! Optional dish (+8000KRW)
Sticky rice tarts
Good luck 2020, you’ve got your work cut out for you. I can’t wait to see what the year brings! Let’s go get eat it.
All restaurants featured in this post were based on independently-paid visits.
This post may contain affiliate links. Purchases made by clicking on an affiliate link may earn a small commission for me, but never at extra cost for you. Please visit the Affiliate Marketing Policy for more information.
Reviewing a restaurant is so hard. You have to consider everything: the decor, the vibe, the comfort of the seats, the attentiveness of the service, the tap water (ever had it tepid-warm? Cue a first-world, ironic ‘yuck’). Heck, even the restaurant’s ‘concept’ is something to think about, whatever that entails.
If there were some way to convert the mental exertion in assessing all the above directly into physical exercise, I’d never have to exercise again. And all this, before you get to the most important part: the food.
Real food journalists are underrated.
So, then, wouldn’t it nice to just talk aboutpure, unadulterated food for once? And wouldn’t it be even nicer if it’s about the best? You’ve read up on my favourites of 2019 and let me guess, you’re thinking ‘typical I’m Still Hungry, putting fine dining and Japanese up on a pedestal.’ Well, I can’t exactly apologise for that, but I do agree – the list is skewed towards the high-end. This post is the balancing act.
As with the last post, the list not ordered by rank. Good luck trying to coax that out of me.
All restaurants featured in this post were based on independently-paid visits.
Bebek Betutu – Bebek Tepi Sawah
Bebek betutu
Bali was well represented in the best restaurant stakes, so it’s no surprise that its strong showing extends to specific dishes.
Bebek betutu is a duck that’s been marinated in a blend of soy and bumbu betutu – a Balinese spice mix that could consist of shallots, garlic, turmeric, galangal, chilli peppers, shrimp paste, peanuts (and so on, so forth) – which is then roasted or baked in plantain leaves. Even in Bali itself, betutu express regional differences, but what ties them together is the impressive, intensely rich flavours of the final product which the betutu seasons. A great bebek betutu should have the duck meat falling right off the bone, and as tender as my belly (mental imagery aside – I’m sorry – I really need to work on that this year). Every mouthful is nothing delicious, and is probably now one of my favourite ways to eat duck.
Look. At. That. Tenderness.
I ate mine at Bebek Tepi Sawah. Read more about it here.
Nasi Campur – Men Weti
Nasi Campur
Nasi Campur (mixed rice) is one of Bali’s most commonly-eaten dishes. Why wouldn’t it be when it’s the equivalent of $3AUD, with quite possibly the best bang-for-buck ratio anywhere this side of the hemisphere?
Nasi putih (boiled rice) is served up with a range of assorted sides – meat, veg, eggs, peanuts, fried shrimp & sambal. You can probably work out that like most of Indonesia’s greatest hits, there is no exact recipe: you’ll likely never come across the same one twice. Ours came with shredded chicken, skins, spicy sambal, spinach, sprouts, peanuts and dried shrimp. It’s times like these that one really can question paying $300+ for a meal at an upmarket restaurant when deliciousness this cheap exist, but that argument’s neither here nor there.
Nasi Campur
Now I’m not going to indict anyone, but as one of the cheapest meals you can get in Indonesia, and found at more warungs than Starbucks outlets in America, wouldn’t it be just a little bit criminal to not try while in Indonesia?
Zesty Vegan Ramen – Kyoto Engine
Zesty miso vegan ramen
A vegan ramen that happens to be one of the best bowls I’ve crushed – not just in 2019, but any year, full stop. Righto, onto the next dish!
Oh, need I say more? Sigh, fine.
If a ramen-ya’s touting vegan, gluten and lactose-free credentials, I’m going to keep on walking. Nothing against those with dietary requirements of course, but not being limited means dietarily-restricted cuisine isn’t necessarily my first choice. But like most of the time where I’ve made up my mind about food, a restaurant comes along that proves me wrong.
Kyoto Engine serves up a whole bunch of different ramen – non-vegetarian/vegan among them – but would you visit Maccas and order the salad?* You get my point.
The bowl to crush is the zesty vegan ramen, which has a miso base made from over twenty different spices. The broth has high viscosity (even I found it difficult to finish it all – but finish it I did), and the noodles with plenty of bite to mop up the almost gravy-like sauce. If vegan ramen is capable of being this good, then I’m capable of changing my biases. Bring on the soy(beans).
Zesty miso vegan ramen
*Real talk: jokes aside – the Create Your Taste salads at McDonald’s are legit. LOL.
Ham & Cheese Scroll – Saga Lyte
Saga Lyte pastries – the ham & cheese scroll are the snow-capped ones
It’s not even a dish, but here we are: there are few pleasures like that of a perfectly-made pastry, and fewer still capable of eliciting a feeling of having discovered the same dish all over again, as if having it for the first time.
Saga Lyte’s ham & cheese scroll managed to elicit that rare feeling, one that hasn’t really come about ever since Lune. Pastry is quite subjective (e.g., do you like your croissants crunchy and flaky, or buttery and soft?), but this scroll ticked all of my personal boxes: very crunchy, very cheesy, and left my hands so slick I could probably glide on them. In other words, lots of butter, lots of flavour, lots of texture.
Also consider the Vegemite scroll if you’re a fan of the divisive spread.
‘Tis all it takes. Simple. Best scrolls in Sydney.
Mandoo – The Mandoo
Pork & kimchi mandoo (or mandu)
Mandoo are Korean dumplings that are larger-than-average. That’s it, but this post is full of examples proving that mastery of the speciously simple is all it takes, but hardest to master.
That means to take the title of the ‘best’ is no mean feat, but when it comes to these parcels of goodness, the best are undoubtedly at the eponymously-named The Mandoo in Strathfield. Here, the dumplings are so good that I haven’t even had one in Korea that’s its equal. Sure, you can gatekeep and say ‘oh, you just haven’t had a good one in Korea then’, but while potentially true, it also does The Mandoo a disservice. It’s bloody good in its own right and once you take a bite out of any of their options – particularly their kimchi & pork mandoo – it’s the end of one chapter (pre-The Mandoo) and the start of another (post-The Mandoo).
Shrimp mandoo. Not the highlight dish, but a highlight nonetheless
Pithivier – LuMi Dining
Pork & shiitake pithivier
Readers of this blog know that LuMi Dining is one of my perennial favourites, so it’s no surprise that most of its dishes contend for a spot on this list. While even its bread is worthy of dish-of-the-year status, the crown for 2019 would have to go to its pork & fermented shiitake-filled pithivier, which plays perfectly to the restaurant’s Italian-with-a-touch-of-Japanese sensibilities. It’s as gorgeous as it looks: the pastrytastes like it’s 50% butter and probably is, the filling a luscious, palate-filling mouthful of umami-esque, porcine savouriness.
Pork & shiitake pithivier
It’s quite frankly a f*cking great pie.
Malatang – No.1 Malatang
Malatang @ No.1 Malatang
I’ll spare you the history lesson and provide the CliffsNotes: Malatang is a kind of solo hot pot where you pick your own ingredients – uncooked, paid by weight – for it all to be cooked in a rich, savoury & spicy soup. The dish format originates from the Sichuan region of China, which kind of makes sense given the prevalence of Sichuan hotpot. Most of you have probably also connotated ‘oh sh*t, Sichuan peppercorns’ as well. While a classic malatang soup base certainly contains the mouth-numbingly spicy yet terribly-addictive berries (yes, it’s a berry), malatang establishments in Australia will serve a more, shall we say, manageable version which allows the diner to add the desired level of chilli – a smart move.
Malatang has exploded over the last couple of years in Sydney, and venues are generally differentiated by the soup base. I like them all, but No.1 Malatang is the one chosen for this list: it’s very well-balanced, the soup based on chicken stock with just the right amount of mala flavouring, which can then be customised with sugar, garlic, sesame and the aforementioned chilli.
The pictured bowl comprised 800g of raw ingredients; add the soup, and I’d say a cool 1.3-1.5kg. No biggie when it’s this tasty.
Seolleongtang – Sinseon Selleongtang
Seolleongtang
Speaking of soups, the Koreans do them pretty good too. There’s a soup for every occasion, even hangovers, but seolleongtang (or Seolnongtang) is perhaps the all-rounder. It’s an opaque, milky-white soup made from ox bones, briskets and sometimes off-cuts and offal. It’s served unseasoned, with rice (on the side, but intended for dunking), meat (probably beef, duh), and a few other bits and bobs. As with malatang, the diner applies their own seasoning, which for me means copious amounts of spice and pepper, plus a healthy dash of salt which really brings out the delectable but otherwise shy umami notes of the broth.
With sides – the mandu on the side might have been a bit overkill!
If you dunk the rice in, you can think of it as a very, very soupy porridge. But really, it’s soup. Then again, it’s not just soup. When you’re up at 7am on 0 degree day in Korea, few things are better.
Hire Rice – Yakiniku Jumbo Hanare
Because I am what I eat
Beef fillet rice
The hardest part about writing up the best restaurants of 2019 was to not re-include Yakiniku Jumbo Hanare, which technically re-qualified for the list given that I was blessed enough to return to again back in November. Norimitsu Nanbara’s bovine temple will probably be the very last bastion to fall when we humans collectively move off meat. I’ll happily confess that as an imperfect person who’s trying to reduce his red meat consumption, restaurants like Jumbo Hanare make that exceptionally difficult.
But maybe once a year, just maybe, I have to make an exception for the hire rice (fillet rice). This is an absolutely mouthwatering pot of rice cooked with tender diced wagyu beef fillet, whose aroma and would turn perhaps even a hardcore vegetarian into a ravening carnivore. It’s perhaps even better than the yukke rice I had on my first visit; that it’s served in a pot fashioned in the shape of a cow (we had a sufficiently large group) gave the dish extra cool points.
Beef fillet rice
Topped with dried onion
Literally the best rice dish I had in 2019. You can read more about Yakiniku Jumbo Hanare here.
Warabi Mochi – Juan Bowl & Tea
Warabi mochi, kuromitsu, kinako
Feel free to disregard this entry given that anyone following me on social media knows that Juan’s owner Anna Ishiguro and yours truly are friends. CONFLICT OF INTEREST, DISCLAIMERS, ETC. ETC. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, feel free to show me a better dessert showcasing the simplistic beauty of warabi mochi (bracken starch jelly) and I’ll happily plug it for the 2020 version of this post.
Juan’s warabi mochi is, like most dishes in this post, simple: kinako (soybean powder), kuromitsu (black sugar syrup), light cream and the warabi mochi itself. Juan’s is excellent for the same reason why the restaurant itself is excellent: the limited menu means that all efforts go into making sure Ishiguro’s exacting standards do not slip. Like most dishes à la Japonaise, the devil is in the detail: the fineness of the kinako, the balance of sweetness and molasses of the kuromitsu, and the purity of that mochi.
I’ve hit up Juan plenty of times since the inaugural 2017 visit, but I think it’s time I honour Ishiguro’s most underrated dish. You can read more about Juan Bowl & Tea here.
All restaurants featured in this post were based on independently-paid visits.
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