Stephen Downes

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Stephen Downes

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Stephen Downes

Australia's longest serving restaurant critic

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Obama’s challenge

Jun 17th, 2009 by stephend | 1

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During a fortnight in California from which I’ve just returned, I watched Barack Obama’s televised addresses several times. Formal or informal, they are brilliant pieces of sensible communication. I’ll say something silly, probably, but predict that he will be not only the best but the most important president the USA will have.
But his biggest and most expensive job is tackling American obesity. He said it himself the other night — very tactfully, too. Broadening American health insurance will be much more costly than any other aspect of the nation’s budget, he admitted. Much more costly than operations in Afghanistan and Iraq and paying for any other security issues. But it was so important it needed to be done. And very cleverly and delicately he urged his compatriots and their employers to start to take responsibility for their overweightness and unfitness. (And the thought also overwhelmed me that, if Americans did lose weight, billions and billions of joules of energy will be lost in heat and unproductive exercise rather than making things or providing services.)
At base, of course, American obesity is the most obvious and malign effect of the lure of greed. And I don’t mean greed for food: greed for money by American food processors is the culprit. It’s hard to find processed food without sugar in the United States. The breakfast cereals are a disgrace — they are all appallingly sugary. Kids’ strollers have attachments in which to insert fast food and fast drinks, and at Universal Studios on Saturday everyone was eating crap as they staggered along. A young couple spooned up oversize versions of hundreds and thousands from the cute plastic containers in which they are sold. No one seems to drink anything but buckets of proprietary ’soda’ (as they call it), and serving sizes in general need to be reduced by at least a third. (Restaurants all serve from the same restricted list of dishes, mainly steaks and hamburgers accompanied by mountains of chips.)
Obama has his work cut out, because the greedy food manufacturers aren’t going to relent in their policy of feeding the nation saccharin crap. And isn’t it so cynical of them! Here’s a country without a discernible food culture, and the appalling food manufacturing giants have jumped into the vacuum with the sole aim of making massive profits by appealing to the most exploitable (sugar and fat receptive) parts of the palate. Bugger the dire consequences!
President Obama ought to look at taxing sugars and fats in processed foods. No one would disagree that they are dangerous — perhaps as dangerous as cancer-causing agents in tobacco, and taxing the latter has played an important role in curbing smoking. America needs to curb eating in general and eating badly in particular, and making fresh food at least as, if not more, cheap than processed rubbish has to be an important part of the offensive.

Cancel Zuni chook

Jun 17th, 2009 by stephend | 2

The more things stay the same the more they’re prone to change. That’s a rule of capitalism, and in the case of Zuni Cafe in Market Street, San Francisco, it has affected the restaurant’s signature dish, its roasted chicken.
I thought it was good enough four years ago that eating it was among the 100 food experiences you had to have before you died. It’s in my book To Die For. When I first ate the dish getting on for two decades ago, the chicken was a brilliant bird, salted a day before roasting. Just before being slid into Zuni’s igloo-shaped wood-fired roaster, chopped fresh herbs in olive oil were inserted under the skin.
Well, I’ve just come back from a fortnight in California, and Zuni chicken ain’t what it used to be: fresh herbs are no longer inserted under the skin. Indeed, not even dried herbs are, even if the quality of the bird is still terrific. I also felt the Tuscan bread salad that the dismembered bird lies on wasn’t as good as it used to be. Garlic-rubbed croutons were a major component, and today’s counterparts just seem feebler, less-cooked and less tasty. I also looked for but couldn’t find the dried vine fruits that were a part of the dish years ago.
I checked with the roast-chef, who said that, yes, effectively, they hadn’t been slipping fresh herbs under the skin for about three years. He couldn’t explain why. Like me, he said, he missed the old recipe.
And as we ate our way through a nonetheless splendid dish slated for two ($US48 or about $A60), La Dominique said several times that my version at home was better than Judy Rodgers’s original — she owns Zuni Cafe and still keeps a hand on the tiller, apparently. I said that the chooks I can get in Melbourne have a hard job matching the quality of those Zuni serves, but I did agree that I went to more trouble in diversifying the greens in the salad, frying croutons in garlic and olive oil, macerating dried fruit in a cooked wine like port before gently bringing it to the boil, adding the remaining liquid (and the fruit) to my dressing for my version of Zuni chicken and toasting the pinenuts a little more than Judy’s crew do.
But the lack of herbs under the skin — they make the dish — is a huge disappointment. And because of this unfortunate simplification, those with my book may now cross it off the list of 100 things you have to eat before you die. Delete page 48 and most of 49.

Pity the performers

May 27th, 2009 by stephend | 1

I went with Dominique last night to hear Geoffrey Lancaster play — superbly — five Haydn piano sonatas at the new Melbourne Recital Centre.
Geoffrey strode on to the platform in black patent leather shoes, black trousers and a well-fitted Chinese-style charcoal smock and told us before he began that he was in heaven. Here he was about to start the first of 10 concerts, to perform the complete Haydn sonatas on the centre’s own exquisite new fortepiano, a once-in-a-lifetime experience, in one of the finest concert halls in the world.
Trouble was, Geoffrey was talking to about 100 of us. In a hall that seats 1000, I think it is! Deducting giveaways, I suppose, to critics and friends, perhaps three-quarters of us might have been paying customers. Our tickets cost a very reasonable $50 each, but if you do the maths, you can see why the centre is in a financial mess, bleeding money quicker than on onballer’s head-gash.
What is wrong with the people of Melbourne!!?? (And don’t tell me they were at the Pussy Cat Dolls, or whatever they are!)
Lancaster’s performances were world-class — lyrical, quirky (which Haydn’s keyboard music can take so easily because his writing is so magically wry), breathtakingly fast in the prestos, lyrical … just consummate. The instrument was superb, the textures the fortepianist was able to draw out of it varying and vibrant. I’m convinced, despite a fortepiano’s inferior power compared with a contemporary Steinway, that you could have heard well anywhere.
Geoffrey Lancaster has nine more of these concerts to play, and if the MRC had the slightest gram of marketing ability it should, first, get tickets to Half-tix, which they don’t do the last time I asked, secondly, allow students to take up unsold seats for free, and sell door tickets cheaper to anyone. It seems to me that the time is past when it can afford to be haughty about its small audiences and financial catastrophe. It needs a massive PR and marketing campaign just to tell Melburnians what a great venue we have: and in Geoffrey Lancaster’s case what treat after treat we we can look forward to over the next six months as he plays the book of Haydn, in many ways the greatest keyboard composer — OK, outside Bach — ever.

Brahimi remembers

Apr 22nd, 2008 by stephend | Comments Off

Guillaume Brahimi, the Sydney chef whose new bistro has recently opened at Melbourne’s Crown casino and entertainment complex, came out to talk to guests when I dined there last week for an upcoming Herald Sun review.

I’d never met him, and he turned out to be large and gentle, like many Gallic cooks. He told me I was the first Australian to review his food — at Pond in Sydney perhaps a dozen years ago. I wrote a critique of his first Australian outing for my weekly column in The Australian Financial Review.

I seemed to recall, I said, that Pond was pretty good. Yes, he said. He remembered everything I ate — as many chefs do, even years later —  but I didn’t ask him to recite the inventory.

He sent his mother the clipping, he said, which she has kept. It was yellowing now, he added.

Guillaume took Australian citizenship in 1994.

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Blues with bleu

Apr 22nd, 2008 by stephend | 4

Perhaps south Gippsland is another country. I swung through the region with la Dominique at the weekend, and discovered that its chefs have enormous problems cooking beef ‘bleu’.

Lunched on Saturday at the estimable Grand Ridge Brewery in the Main Street of the tiny village of Mirboo North, high up in the Strzelecki Ranges. We began with a tasting tray — hardwood — of the six standard beers Grand Ridge makes. I liked them all, the ‘Hatlifter’ stout the least and the Brewers Pilsner cold-fermented with Czech hops the most. They’re rich, long-tasting, complex and well-rounded beers, and as far as I could tell, technically perfect.

But didn’t I cause a stir when I asked the waitress to cook the brewery’s own hamburger ‘bleu’. A young cook emerged from the kitchen to apologise in the nicest way that regulations prevented his doing it. If he were making me a steak tartare from scratch it would be more than bleu, of course. But because he’d minced the beef already, in prep, he had to cook it through.

Actually, the result was terrific. Heaps of bacon, a fried egg, salad, fine chips, sundry other items, and a ground-beef pillow of perhaps 250g of excellent steak — done bleu. Dominique had a two-rib rack of poached veal served hot and draped with tuna mayonnaise. Melting potato cylinders and a rocket salad accompanied.

That night at the Crazy Dog Cafe in the tiny town of Yarram, Dominique asked for her rib eye to be done bleu. The waitress seemed appalled, especially since only seconds before a guest at another table had asked for his steak to be served ‘burned’. Regulations prevented their cooking steak bleu, she said. They just couldn’t do it. I said that the whole of the state of Victoria cooked steak bleu, and I was surprised that south Gippsland couldn’t. Just do it, we said, as little as possible. (Knock off the horns, wipe its bum, etc … my usual joke.) It arrived bleu and was, again, excellent meat. (The Crazy Dog’s problems are more in its service and the well-meaning but fairly farm-kitchen vegies it serves.)

 The following morning in Yarram I was served the best bacon and eggs I can recall. Jenny Gierens at the Federal Coffee Palace bakes amazing cakes and pies, but what I ate was a huge amount of brilliantly cooked, rich and tasty rashers, two flavour-filled eggs with yolks of an intensely luminous orange-yellow colour on two slices of what seemed to be fat-drenched French toast. Don’t dismiss eating like this. With fruit for lunch, theire is no need to eat before 7pm or later.