Hungerford Hill winery has been a favourite of mine for some time now. With a brilliant selection of hearty reds (my beverage of choice), whites that will tickle even my tastebuds, and moreish fortifieds which don’t last long in our house, they are the one place I ensure my friends and family visit when they venture into wine country. Not to mention, the two-chefs-hatted adjoining Muse Dining, by multi-award-winning Chef Troy Rhoades-Brown. When combined, these culinary powers create a true-to-its-name “Epic Tasting Experience“; a mini degustation with matching wines at a bargain price.
Is anyone else tired of this “foodie” movement?
In a time where the typical restaurant dinner consists of a delicately-plated meal served up on a bed of flower petals and pored over like the Mona Lisa… there is a comforting, homely welcome in real, hearty, delicious food. Cheeky Czech delivers just that.
Edited 1/12/2014: Note that Kashin Japanese Restaurant is now under new management, with a different menu. Sadly you will no longer find the delicious chilli-infused food here. Kashin is now a boring, stock-standard Japanese diner.
If you take stroll along the row of shops in Gordon you’ll probably miss this understated restaurant, but what it lacks in presence it makes up for in flavour.
Kashin‘s kitchen is run by a master sushi chef whose only interaction with us is a booming “irasshaimase!” from behind his counter, and his delightful smiling wife, who potters out to greet us with a bow. Their daughter takes over and seats at a table near the window – she is friendly and chatty, and enthusiastically nods with all our menu choices. All of three of them are the most gracious hosts, and kindly offer a taste of their favourite sake on the house, as well as an appetiser to whet our taste buds.
The city of lights; an icon of romance, and the center of cuisine at it’s finest, has fascinated me for as long as I remember. There is a magic about her that is undefinable, undebatable, and unrivalled… a charm that can be found in every fromage-filled baguette, in the two-minute stillness between metro services, in the late-night aperitifs of the Marais, and the luxurious boutiques selling designer books, designer ballet shoes, or designer incense. Even in the way the Parisians love their dogs, and the way they smoke cigarettes without a care for tomorrow. From the lawns beneath the Eiffel tower, to the pyramids of the Louvre, and all the tourist traps inbetween – I love the very essence of Paris. I can still hear the buskers singing tribute to Edith on the street-corners, still feel the rain on my face as we zipped around Paris one midnight on the back of a scooter, still feel my heart jump out of my chest as we stepped off that train at Paris, Gare du Nord, September 7th 2012.
One brisk Saturday afternoon in June, we decide to try the esteemed Bourke Street Bakery in one of it newer, humbler locations.
The quiet side-street in Marrickville is flooded with wintery sunlight. We perch ourselves on a pair of rustic, wooden benches under an ice-blue canopy of cloudless sky, and um-and-ah over the mouth-watering menu, finally ordering ourselves a couple of soy latte’s, a pork and fennel sausage roll, and a ginger brulee tart.