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Attica chef Ben Shewry has been thinking about your buttocks, and wants to introduce them to an Australian design classic.
Charleston, the antebellum jewel of the Carolina coast, has embraced its Lowcountry roots, writes Shane Mitchell, and now shines anew.
Our June issue is out now, and it's all about breakfast. Pat Nourse kicks things off with his editor's letter.
Andrew McConnell’s Cantonese-inspired restaurant will become a classroom for a night during the Emerging Writers’ Festival.
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Sydney’s favourite whisky bar makes a rare overground appearance at a pop-up on Pitt Street Mall.
There's nothing new about Nordic interiors - blond timbers, concrete surfaces, warm, mid-century charm without the twee - and thank heavens for that. It's a style that augments the beauty of everything around it, in this case, gorgeous Hobart harbour, which makes up one whole wall. What is new here, however, is the food - by veterans of Garagistes, which once dazzled diners down the road, Vue de Monde in Melbourne and Gordon Ramsay worldwide. There's a strong Asian bent, but with Tasmanian ingredients. In fact, the kitchen's love of the local verges on obsessive - coconut milk in an aromatic fish curry is replaced with Tasmanian-grown fig leaf simmered in cream to mimic the flavour. Other standouts include a gutsy red-braised lamb with gai lan and chewy cassia spaetzle, pigs' ears zingy with Sichuan pepper and a fresh, springy berry dessert. While the food is sourced locally, the generous wine list spans the planet.
A far cry from Tuscany’s familiar gently rolling hills, Monte Argentario’s appealing mix of mountain, ocean, island and lagoon makes it one of Italy’s hidden treasures, writes Emiko Davies.
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No, it’s not a pop-up. The team behind Sydney’s Moon Park is back with an all-day east-Asian eatery.
Prepare to enter a picture of the countryside framed by note-perfect Australiana but painted in bold, elegant and unsentimental strokes. Over 10 or more courses, Dan Hunter celebrates his region with dishes that are formally daring (Crunchy prawn heads! Creamy oyster soft-serve! Sea urchin and chicory bread pudding!), yet rich in flavour and substance. The menu could benefit from an edit, but the plates are tightly composed - and what could you cut? Certainly not the limpid broth bathing fronds of abalone and calamari, nor the clever arrangement of lobster played off against charred waxy fingerlings under a swatch of milk skin. The adventure is significantly the richer for the cool gloss of the dining room, some of the most engaging service in the nation and wine pairings that roam with an easy-going confidence. Maturing and relaxing without surrendering a drop of its ambition, Brae is more compelling than ever.
Here we've scorched apricots on the grill and served them with torn jamon, shaved Manchego and peppery rocket leaves. Think of it as a twist on the good old melon-prosciutto routine. The mixture would also be great served on charred sourdough.
Like its oft-disputed name, the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia defies simple definition but its rich diversity extends from the dinner table to the welcoming locals, writes Richard Cooke.
You were in Melbourne for the food and wine festival a
couple of years ago, René - does it bring back fond
I loved Australia. I really, really loved Melbourne. If it wasn't so far away I'd visit every year. For me, Melbourne was like Copenhagen just with better weather, and that's just great, isn't it? That's like a dream city. Not too big; even though I know it's quite big it doesn't feel big. I love the people - they wore nice clothes when they went out to dinner and they went out to dinner a lot. It's quite a cultural city and I was very amazed by the quality of the everyday eateries. The markets and the quality of the produce. Great coffee. I really enjoyed it.
Then there was me being a little bit stupid, thinking the whole of Australia was a desert like it is in the middle. It was very surprising, then, to go to the shorelines to pick plants with Ben from Attica, harvesting seaweed right there, and going to a small area of listed ground near where Ray Capaldi lives and there's kangaroos there, and then picking wood sorrel and purslane. I could feel I wanted more. I left thinking about the great potential there is in Australia.
I just read William Gibson's new book, and one of his
characters describes Melbourne as a Canadianised Los Angeles, but I
think Tourism Victoria might prefer your
I think so - it's a flat city, with nice people and the pace of the city is much slower than Sydney, for instance, or any other big city that I've been to. It's just a good city.
What are your expectations for Sydney on this
I was only there for two days last time, but I thought its sheer beauty was breathtaking. The Opera House is truly to me breathtaking. The way it lies there with the harbour bridge is so beautiful, but it also feels like a big city, a city where the pace is high, people are moving forward and you need to get out of our way.
My expectations are that I'm going to learn a lot more about Australia's cuisine. I'm actually reading up on that right now. I just got my first book in yesterday, which is about indigenous food, you know [assumes appalling Australian accent], bush tucker. And I have three or four more books that I have to collect today at the post office. I'm interested in knowing what Australia is. What Australian cuisine is.
It's a question we've been asking ourselves.
And it's a very difficult question to answer. The notion of something truly unique and local is easy to think of but to express it on a plate without reference points is very difficult.
Our top restaurants don't use a lot of what you'd call
bush tucker here today, truth be told.
I read about a lot of interesting stuff, though. I think the quandong sounds interesting. Saltbush, too, sounds delicious, and I'm really interested in green ants. I also liked the sound of the worms that live in wood in the water, like all-white larvae. Think of it like an oyster - it's a live creature in the shell that you're opening up, only in this case the shell is a piece of wood and there's a live animal in it and you eat it. If you can get past that whole idea, in the books it says it tastes of almonds.
Following the rise of Noma, young chefs the world over
are now going out and denuding their local parks and gardens of
chickweed and wood sorrel in the name of René Redzepi-like
foraging. How do you feel about being the inspiration for this sort
Ha, that's brilliant, man, I love it. The gardeners must be so happy.
Funny thing is, though, they're usually more interested
in those introduced species than they are in things that grow wild
I think that understanding will take time, but the recipe for what's truly Australian on a plate has to involve a lot of that. It's something I struggle with every day - you cook food and you bring forward a taste, and how does that taste and the whole spirit and the culture of the dish, and then you think, how does this dish come together to have a sense of place, where it belongs only here and nowhere else in the world? That's f***in' difficult, man.
So no danger of you being bored in the kitchen,
Actually, we're pretty far from it. I've always told myself the day that I get bored, the day the autopilot gets switched on, that's the day it's time to move on and see if there's someone else who can take it further. This project for me, Restaurant Noma, is not a life project. Cooking is a life project, and I'm going to give 100 per cent of myself until I'm completely empty. The product line, the people growing, the whole definition of what our region and our time and place is about.
Does that mean if you were to somehow explore that
subject to your satisfaction you might then move on and open a taco
Yes! I don't know. I have absolutely no idea where I'll be in 10 years. I know one thing, though - I'd like to give my family, my child I have now and perhaps future children, the opportunity of living somewhere else in the world. I'd also like to give myself the learning experience of starting again from scratch and getting to know a new place, new people and new ingredients.
The weather in Melbourne's very nice this time of
Who knows? I know I just don't want to settle in. In Denmark we have the expression "you're 40, you're fat and you're finished". And in the same way this can happen with a restaurant: you struggle and struggle, and then it starts to happen, things start to balance, then money starts rolling in - this is not my ambition. I think the reason we have such a good team is because this is not the purpose for me in this project. We're seeing how far we can take this project.
We're ramping up into party season right now. Do you
throw a good party?
I tell you, we threw the best party. When we received the 50 Best award we invited every single person who has ever worked with Noma - all of our farmers, just everybody. And there were 175 people; we did it on a boat and people fell in the water, we broke the toilet… it was an amazing party.
You broke the toilet?
Well, there were people who hadn't seen each other for years, a man and a lady and, well, you know. They're a couple today, and they paid for the toilet themselves, so… it was such a party of spirit. It was fantastic. We have a party at the restaurant twice a year for the whole staff. One of them is a day-trip, where we go somewhere and we sleep, often in very rustic conditions. Our parties are always just full of f****in' life and great spirit.
What's the secret to a good party, Redzepi-style?
The secret is the people. You need the right people. You have the right people and you can play classical music and it'll still rock. People will still dance and go crazy.
What do you serve?
I like to have a theme on it. When we had a salute party to ourselves, we also celebrated our dishwasher, so we ate Gambian food. But it can be anything, just anything well made.
You're not on Twitter, René - do you have a message we
can send out as your 140 character proxies?
Sure: "buy the book".
What's the book all about?
I'm a hard-working guy and having a lot of hardworking guys in the restaurant, and we're busy, but we can only serve so many people. We're making it, but only just, so we're hoping that if the book sells it'll buy us a little breathing room. I'm quite happy about the book because I feel it's a great extension of the restaurant in printed form; that's quite hard to make, but I think we've succeeded, and by having a book you've got financial possibilities without compromising your integrity setting up a frozen food line or opening a stupid restaurant that nobody cares about that people just show up to because there's a name attached to it, and so on.
What are you loving on the Noma menu right
Right now we've got this incredible biodynamically grown spinach that has such a strong taste of iron, and steamed with seaweed it's incredible. I love it. I love vegetables. I think vegetables are going to be the next big thing, I don't doubt that at all. The way that everybody's becoming more environmentally friendly, we're going to have to eat more vegetables, that's all.
You've certainly got a lot more to choose from there as
Definitely. You look at the differences between a brill and a turbot and then you look at the flavour difference between a spinach leaf and a quandong, it's two worlds apart with big opportunities between them. The variety in the plant world is just so much more humongous than with meat. People are going to have to start learning to cook a carrot so it has the same qualities as a piece of sautéed foie gras.
Your flowerpot has quickly become one of the dishes
young chefs rip off the most in their own kitchens. What's it like
to be now so widely imitated? Are you conscious of
No, you're making me smile a little bit because it's funny to hear it. I can't believe it almost a little bit. My world is 350 square metres of Restaurant Noma, and then once in a while I get to talk to you guys and then once in a while I get to travel and that's it. Honestly, it's not something that I notice. Most of my living or my waking hours I'm in those 350 square metres.
Have you felt the intensification of interest in Noma
following the World's 50 Best Restaurants naming it number one this
Of course. And not only for the restaurant but for the whole dining scene in Denmark. It's incredible - everyone's business has picked up, gastronomical travellers are here more than before, and people are much more excited now. I'm very surprised. Of course, they have huge expectations, but they come in positive, ready to try something in a different part of the world that they haven't tried before. It's a very positive experience and we're dealing with the whole pressure element of it quite well as a team. I'm really surprised - I don't know if you have this expression in English where you say you're in the eye of the hurricane, but that's how it feels to me. It's calm and nice; there's no wind, but you can see around you there's crazy stuff happening, but you feel kind of cool - this is how we feel I think as a restaurant. I think we'll stay here for a while. Of course there's the whole biblical idea of seven good years and seven bad years and we're just about to finish our seventh year here, so are we going to go into seven good years or seven bad years?
Are Danes turning out in numbers? You've said in
previous interviews that the people of Copenhagen were slower to
support Noma than visitors.
That has changed 100 per cent today. People are curious, very, very curious.
Do you get Princess Mary in often?
No, unfortunately. I mean, our policy is that we take bookings three months in advance; we have 12 tables, we open them online and whether you're a princess or a street hooker, the policy is the same. They have to be as ready on the phone or online as anyone else; they have like 15 palaces, they must have a guy who can book it for them.
Perhaps you should pick up some stuff while you're here
in Australia, just in case she drops in.
Yeah. I'd love to serve her some of those worms.
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