Bar Italia
169 Norton Street
Leichhardt, Sydney
Nestled in the heart of Sydney's 'Little Italy' on Norton Street, Leichhardt, this bustling little Italian cafe come restaurant come gelato bar is not what you might come to expect from one of the oldest eateries on this famous strip. Plastic chairs, outdated furnishings, faded posters of Italian gangster films, and a deceptively large number of tables (it can seat 200 plus people!) make for a culinary experience that is full of surprises (which, if you go in with an open mind about it all, are usually on the good end of the scale).
If you arrive at Bar Italia and aren't first greeted by a queue to get in (which is most weekends or holidays), you'll encounter large blackboard menus which are largely ignored by the regulars that already know what they want, and a couple of signs that give a fair indication about what this place is all about - "No soy, no skim, no light milk" and "No credit, no EFTPOS". These guys have a system, and they stick to it - no exceptions.
You order and pay at the counter. You take your own water. You deliver your own coffee. You also need to find your own seat, and with no table numbers or no staff to direct you to a table, you may want to take some Valium to ease the anxiety surrounding the delivery of your food. Fortunately though, the anxiety lasts only temporarily, because every time, without fail, the food arrives unscathed. And quickly. Often too quickly in fact - if you dawdle too much you may collide with your order at the kitchen door (which you will have to walk past to find a seat up the back). And you certainly should not have any expectations about what constitutes an entree or a main. The food comes out whenever and however they want it to - and that's the way it is. Soup-Nazi much?
Fortunately what Bar Italia lacks in service, it makes up for in food. Big servings of delicious, hot pasta that are full of home made flavour - I can recommend any of the classics - they always satisfy an empty stomach and warm the heart. And it's cheap. Less than $15 will get you a meal that you'll be feeling good about for a long time. But make sure you leave room for dessert - if the line (which is often longer than that for the hot food) doesn't convince you, maybe the awards and accolades will (it has been voted the best gelato in Australia on numerous occasions). Again, the servings are big, and the flavours are full. Try the tiramisu and the pistachio.
I was first introduced to Bar Italia by an ex-girlfriend that lived about a 5 minute walk away. It was her local, the reliable stayer that always satisfied regardless of the circumstances. Not really a date place, but perfect, casual dining. We joked after we broke up that I wouldn't be able to go back there because it was her place. Don't tell her I've been back many times - there's good reason for me to think she was serious when she said she wanted it to herself!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Food Memories - Booralee
When I was growing up, cricket was a very important part of my life. From the age of 10, I played just about every weekend without fail, summer, winter, whenever. When I played basketball, I'd run from one end of the court as if I was running in to bowl at a cricket game, using the half-court line as the crease. When I played tennis I liked being the ball boy because it gave me a chance to practice my fielding. And during the 1999 Sydney hailstorm I ran outside trying to catch as many hail stones as I could - completely padded up in all my cricket gear. It consumed me. By the time I was 17, I was playing three games a week, and training 3 days on top of that. It made up a lot of my good memories, and was for the most part where I felt most comfortable
You're probably wondering where this is going. Fast forward to 2010. 7 years since my last game of cricket. As part of my constant search to enjoy the little things, I recently signed up to play in a local park cricket competition hoping to achieve some kind of enlightenment by pursuing my childhood passions. The day before the third game of the season, our captain emailed us details of where we were playing. Booralee Park, Botany.
Almost instantly my senses ran wild, and the odd smell of freshly toasted cornflakes filled my room. Located next to the Kellogs Factory, Booralee Park is perhaps the most delicious place to play cricket, and simply seeing the name of the the park instantly took me back there (and if you have never been past the Kellogs factory, I can highly recommend it just for a kick). Sure enough, the next day when I hopped into my car to head to the game, I had barely pulled out of my driveway when the smell surrounded me again. And it was with great delight upon arrival at Boralee to smell the real thing once more - and that day I felt like a kid again, and enjoyed my cricket as if I were a kid again.
But the food memory doesn't stop there (though this cricket-food association I'm a little less happy about). I am not very proud to say that, particularly in my younger years of playing cricket, after every game my parents would take me to those big old golden arches. It became almost a ritual. Every game, win or lose, with team mates or not, we'd drive through McDonalds. And every game, without fail, the order was the same. Small McChicken Meal. Unfortunately for me, since my return to cricket, after every game once my kit is packed and dumped in my car, I can taste that awful processed chicken meat, the plastic mayonnaisey sauce and the soggy lettuce in the over-sweetened bun. It disgusts me, and I am thankful that I no longer eat fast-food of any variety.
What these two food memories illustrate is the power of our often forgotten senses of smell and taste. Food shapes our lives more than people possibly realise, and so many memories, good and bad can be formed through the least likely senses. A lot of research is out there about this phenomenon, and food memories are pretty popular in gastronomic literature. No doubt this will be something I'll be writing about again.
You're probably wondering where this is going. Fast forward to 2010. 7 years since my last game of cricket. As part of my constant search to enjoy the little things, I recently signed up to play in a local park cricket competition hoping to achieve some kind of enlightenment by pursuing my childhood passions. The day before the third game of the season, our captain emailed us details of where we were playing. Booralee Park, Botany.
Almost instantly my senses ran wild, and the odd smell of freshly toasted cornflakes filled my room. Located next to the Kellogs Factory, Booralee Park is perhaps the most delicious place to play cricket, and simply seeing the name of the the park instantly took me back there (and if you have never been past the Kellogs factory, I can highly recommend it just for a kick). Sure enough, the next day when I hopped into my car to head to the game, I had barely pulled out of my driveway when the smell surrounded me again. And it was with great delight upon arrival at Boralee to smell the real thing once more - and that day I felt like a kid again, and enjoyed my cricket as if I were a kid again.
But the food memory doesn't stop there (though this cricket-food association I'm a little less happy about). I am not very proud to say that, particularly in my younger years of playing cricket, after every game my parents would take me to those big old golden arches. It became almost a ritual. Every game, win or lose, with team mates or not, we'd drive through McDonalds. And every game, without fail, the order was the same. Small McChicken Meal. Unfortunately for me, since my return to cricket, after every game once my kit is packed and dumped in my car, I can taste that awful processed chicken meat, the plastic mayonnaisey sauce and the soggy lettuce in the over-sweetened bun. It disgusts me, and I am thankful that I no longer eat fast-food of any variety.
What these two food memories illustrate is the power of our often forgotten senses of smell and taste. Food shapes our lives more than people possibly realise, and so many memories, good and bad can be formed through the least likely senses. A lot of research is out there about this phenomenon, and food memories are pretty popular in gastronomic literature. No doubt this will be something I'll be writing about again.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The MasterChef-fect.
I was overseas when the first Masterchef wave reached Australian shores - though from the sounds of it, it hit more like a tsunami. Every week from the far reaches of South and Central America, I would without fail see comments on Facebook, in the news and even in casual emails I was receiving from friends and family about this exciting new reality TV show that seemed to be generating more salivation than Pavlov's Dog. Salivation that came the most from friends whose idea of cooking consisted of emptying a tin of pre-made sauce over packet pasta, and whose idea of eating out was a $7 pub steak (and even then only if suitable entertainment was on hand). They were eating out of necessity - the food was a low priority, and it's taste was even lower.
Regularly hailed as one of the great culinary cities of the world, Sydney has for many years maintained a fantastic mix of restaurants - some good, some bad - serving food from all over the world. For reasons which I will discuss my theories about at some point in the not-too-distant future however, this never had the support of a population which was in many ways culinarily challenged. Sure - the roast meat and three veg have slowly over the years been replaced by the thai green curry - but even that transition was not a far reach from the pre-made sauces aisle in the supermarket.
Cue the pleasant surprise upon arriving into Sydney post-yearlongtripaway and post-masterchef-culinary-paradigm-shift. It had become very quickly apparent that people suddenly cared about food. Not that the passion wasn't always there - like language, there is perhaps something inherently instinctive and underlying in our biology, burning deep down inside of everyone, regarding food beyond it's role as a basic need, and of course there is no question of cultural influences on our culinary habits. But since my return, more and more often I noticed that a meal out consisted of a much greater appreciation of the time spent eating food, and that more and more often the names of reputable restaurants outside the Eastern Suburbs of Sydney were discussed as meal options. Even a night out for pub steak became part of a search for the BEST pub steak - the flavours, the atmosphere, the side dishes all turning the pub meal into something far bigger than it used to be. Friendly (yet oh so serious) bets emerged regarding the non-consumption of fast-food for as long as possible, and paying $30 for a meal no longer seemed like too expensive an option. And all of Australia was feeling the same way.
Market Research and Analysis Group IBISWorld has stated in it's recent Australian Industry Report on Cafes and Restaurants that, thanks to Masterchef as a direct result of Masterchef:
This suggests that - depite the Global Financial Crisis - the Australian restaurant industry is booming - big time. Growth of up to 4% is predicted over the current financial year, which is more than double from the previous financial year, and growth up to 22% is predicted over the next five years. Australians will consume more than $10billion eating out over the next twelve months - up more than 10% on previous years expenditure.
But not only are people beginning to think about what they put in their mouth - and enjoying the experience at the same time. They are also beginning to understand how it gets there, by more than ever jumping into the kitchen and trying their hands at the recipes they see on TV. Coles has reported upwards of 1400% spikes in sales of the more unusual products featured in Masterchef recipes after they appear on the show, and the sale of cookbooks are predicted to increase 13% over the next 12 months despite a highly saturated, and traditionally poor performing market. Thanks to the Masterchef Masterclasses, Australian's everywhere now know how to make their own gnocci, shuck their own oysters, and croquem their own bouche. Or at least they think they do.
And herein lies one small problem. Not everyone is a Masterchef, but a lot of people out there believe they could be. People are inherently overachievers, particularly when there are other people to impress, and while there might be no harm in trying to recreate an Adriano Zumbo macaron, or Matt Moran's suckling pork with ginger and pickled watermelon, or while we are at it, Hestor Blumenthal's "Sound of the Sea", there is perhaps a bit too much glamorisation going on regarding cooking. These celebrity chefs have spent years perfecting their crafts in industrial kitchens around the world working long hours in highly critical environments. Even the Masterchef contestants have enjoyed years of practice in their home kitchens testing their passions. Speaking to a prominent Australian celebrity chef recently at a food demonstration in my local supermarket (who I won't name, because I had no intention of reposting his remarks until even more recently) there is a lesson to be learnt from this.
As for the Junior Masterchef-fect... apart from endorphins released in amazement at the on-screen creations, we may have to wait another 10 years until the cheflings leave the nest before we start to see the fruits on societies cultural table.
Regularly hailed as one of the great culinary cities of the world, Sydney has for many years maintained a fantastic mix of restaurants - some good, some bad - serving food from all over the world. For reasons which I will discuss my theories about at some point in the not-too-distant future however, this never had the support of a population which was in many ways culinarily challenged. Sure - the roast meat and three veg have slowly over the years been replaced by the thai green curry - but even that transition was not a far reach from the pre-made sauces aisle in the supermarket.
Cue the pleasant surprise upon arriving into Sydney post-yearlongtripaway and post-masterchef-culinary-paradigm-shift. It had become very quickly apparent that people suddenly cared about food. Not that the passion wasn't always there - like language, there is perhaps something inherently instinctive and underlying in our biology, burning deep down inside of everyone, regarding food beyond it's role as a basic need, and of course there is no question of cultural influences on our culinary habits. But since my return, more and more often I noticed that a meal out consisted of a much greater appreciation of the time spent eating food, and that more and more often the names of reputable restaurants outside the Eastern Suburbs of Sydney were discussed as meal options. Even a night out for pub steak became part of a search for the BEST pub steak - the flavours, the atmosphere, the side dishes all turning the pub meal into something far bigger than it used to be. Friendly (yet oh so serious) bets emerged regarding the non-consumption of fast-food for as long as possible, and paying $30 for a meal no longer seemed like too expensive an option. And all of Australia was feeling the same way.
Market Research and Analysis Group IBISWorld has stated in it's recent Australian Industry Report on Cafes and Restaurants that, thanks to Masterchef as a direct result of Masterchef:
"The industry is currently feeling some positive flow-on effects... Many households are rediscovering the joys associated with the total meal experience, incorporating the package of well-presented quality meals as well as the ambience and associated hospitality."
This suggests that - depite the Global Financial Crisis - the Australian restaurant industry is booming - big time. Growth of up to 4% is predicted over the current financial year, which is more than double from the previous financial year, and growth up to 22% is predicted over the next five years. Australians will consume more than $10billion eating out over the next twelve months - up more than 10% on previous years expenditure.
But not only are people beginning to think about what they put in their mouth - and enjoying the experience at the same time. They are also beginning to understand how it gets there, by more than ever jumping into the kitchen and trying their hands at the recipes they see on TV. Coles has reported upwards of 1400% spikes in sales of the more unusual products featured in Masterchef recipes after they appear on the show, and the sale of cookbooks are predicted to increase 13% over the next 12 months despite a highly saturated, and traditionally poor performing market. Thanks to the Masterchef Masterclasses, Australian's everywhere now know how to make their own gnocci, shuck their own oysters, and croquem their own bouche. Or at least they think they do.
And herein lies one small problem. Not everyone is a Masterchef, but a lot of people out there believe they could be. People are inherently overachievers, particularly when there are other people to impress, and while there might be no harm in trying to recreate an Adriano Zumbo macaron, or Matt Moran's suckling pork with ginger and pickled watermelon, or while we are at it, Hestor Blumenthal's "Sound of the Sea", there is perhaps a bit too much glamorisation going on regarding cooking. These celebrity chefs have spent years perfecting their crafts in industrial kitchens around the world working long hours in highly critical environments. Even the Masterchef contestants have enjoyed years of practice in their home kitchens testing their passions. Speaking to a prominent Australian celebrity chef recently at a food demonstration in my local supermarket (who I won't name, because I had no intention of reposting his remarks until even more recently) there is a lesson to be learnt from this.
"Masterchef doesn't teach people things they can cook at home - it makes everyone think they can do things that just aren't possible in a normal household kitchen under any normal time period. It is certainly generating interest, and that is important. But if you want to become a better chef, and cook at home, the most important thing is to start simple. Walk before you run. Learn to make your short crust pastry before stuffing it with your lemon curd. Then learn to cook the perfect roast rack of lamb. Then learn to make the perfect mint sauce. Do things one at a time and then - if you are serious about it - start to bring them all together."What Masterchef has achieved however is a brand new appreciation for cooking at home. Pre-grated cheese is a thing of the past. Tinned soup is on the out. And food that is "local", "fresh", and "seasonal" is high priority for more and more shopppers. It is this awareness that has more than anything else changed the scene for the Australian food industry - people are now cooking more at home, cooking better at home, and are expecting more and better when they eat out. And this effect is certainly not a bad thing.
As for the Junior Masterchef-fect... apart from endorphins released in amazement at the on-screen creations, we may have to wait another 10 years until the cheflings leave the nest before we start to see the fruits on societies cultural table.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Thought For Food.
Nothing excites me more than food. Cooking it, the smells, the sounds, the sights, the people, the places, the flavours, and the tastes. The thought that every day, people all around the world stop everything they are doing, on (usually) three or more occasions, to focus entirely on fulfilling the basic human need of food consumption. The thought that such a need can be so enjoyable.
I read it. I cook it. I learn it. I want it. I need it. I love it.
And now, I will write it.
This will be a collection of my thoughts on everything and anything related to food. My memories. Recipes. Government policy. Global issues. Reviews. History. Concepts. Cultures. Events. Enjoyment.
I read it. I cook it. I learn it. I want it. I need it. I love it.
And now, I will write it.
This will be a collection of my thoughts on everything and anything related to food. My memories. Recipes. Government policy. Global issues. Reviews. History. Concepts. Cultures. Events. Enjoyment.
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