My 25th Birthday Dinner at Sage Dining Rooms, Canberra

Posted on June 4, 2012 by Hannah

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I don’t have the best luck with birthdays. I celebrated my 21^st alone in a hotel room in Chicago, my 23^rd arrived around the time of the second Mystery Misbehaving Toe surgery, and I spent my 24^th at a forum called “Let’s Chat About Dying” before returning to an empty house. In addition, my birthday is National Sorry Day.

So it wasn’t that surprising when I came down with a virus the day before my 25^th birthday last week. It also wasn’t surprising that when I started crying at 5am, after six hours of lying in bed feeling progressively more delirious and unwell, it was less about being sick than the fear of being unable to go to Sage for my birthday dinner.

Thankfully, not only did I make it to Sage, but my parents and I had a truly splendid night. A week later, I’m still swooning over the gorgeousness! the creativity! the deliciousness! the fact that my Mum almost disappeared into the couch, so great was her camouflage!

Upon being settled into our cozy corner of the restaurant by our charming waiter, we were served warm bread rolls and homemade butter topped with fancypants salt. The butter was so ethereally light in texture that “homemade” must have meant “whipped by fairies”. There were also aperitifs of burnt orange (for Dad) and passionfruit, citrus, and vodka (for Mum and me).

mushroom miso cappuccino: sundried tomato cracker, mushroom pesto

The above amuse bouche of mushroom miso cappuccino had an intoxicatingly earthy aroma and, while a tad salty, balanced well with the crisp crackers and marinated mushrooms.

beetroot variations: eucalyptus smoked trout, freeze dried mandarin, coriander

tuna & foie gras: sashimi, mojama, crackling, chervil, PX dressing

My Dad’s and Mum’s entrées (appetisers) were lovely, with vibrant fresh flavours accentuating the core ingredients. However, neither dish compared to the stunning aesthetics and inventiveness of mine:

honey peppered heirloom carrots: malt, yolk, ricotta, olive powder, brioche.

So pretty. Oh my. How? Everything. So pretty! Like a scene from the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales! The cumin brioche was so delicate it dissolved in the mouth, the bruleed egg yolk melted into the sweet malt powder, and the salty olive dust, crisp cracker, and locally-grown carrots all held their own. Lovely, subtle, intriguing.

seared scallops & crispy chicken skin: roast pumpkin, yoghurt parfait, amaretti crumble, sage
muscovy duck: orange, carrot, pickled red cabbage, licorice

In this photo (thanks Mum!), you can see my parents’ main meals and our shared witlof salad: candied walnuts. Mum adored her choice, and the bite I had of scallops and pumpkin spoke of clear yet complex flavours. Dad was likewise impressed with his dish, and I loved the tangy-vinegar kick to his red cabbage.

But, again, my dish reigned supreme. Supreme! Oh yes.

artichokes: textures of globe & Jerusalem artichokes, hazelnut, kale, sherry

Word cannot express how much I loved this vegetarian (so close to vegan!) main. The globe artichokes were pickled-then-fried, with a glorious crunchy tang. The pan-fried Jerusalem artichokes were nutty-creamy-delicious, the kale was oh! kale! wonder!, and the sherry hazelnut dressing and creamy artichoke puree brought everything together into a please-don’t-end-let-me-scrape-the-plate whole.

I would almost have been satisfied to end at this point, without dessert. But that’s a lie, because we all know how I feel about dessert.

rhubarb & raspberry: quinoa crunch, crème brulee foam, rose petals

chocovado: chocolate cremeux, hazelnut cocoa crumble, lemon gel, avocado cream

I sweet-talked my parents into ordering the two desserts I wanted to try (apart from what what I myself ordered). After all, it was my birthday, right? I barely had a chance to try Mum’s raspberry and rhubarb dessert, so keen was she on it. I was mightily impressed by Sage’s spin on a chocolate dessert, not only for the gorgeous plating but because the avocado cream tasted undeniably of lemon-infused avocado. On its own, it was quite savoury, but worked beautifully against the sweet chocolate mousse.

But, people, nothing compared to my dessert. Nothing.

autumn scenery: chestnut log, chocolate branches, malt, apple sauce

Chestnut desserts, light of my life! I was stunned by this dessert even before I started tasting it. I loved, loved it. The centerpiece was the luscious chestnut mousse log, topped with a fresh hazelnut, toffee shard, and chocolate branches. Scattered around the plate were the equally-delicious-and-heavenly chocolate cookie pieces, maple syrup drizzles, smooth and fresh apple puree, nutty crumble, malt ice cream and, last but not least, caramelised chestnuts.

There are no words; this dessert made my heart soar. So much goodness. It was the perfect end to a dinner that made my birthday feel truly celebratory.

I must give a big shout-out to our wonderful waiter, who overheard that it was my birthday and arranged two birthday treats. The first was a glass of Valdespino El Candado Pedro Ximinez, which blew my mind with its lingering sweet notes of chocolate and toffee. The second was the glowing candle that arrived with my dessert, and the firm order that I make a wish before blowing it out.

I can’t tell you my wish, of course. In truth, it was less a straight wish than a jumble of thoughts, feelings, words, and hopes. I have faith that The Wish Powers That Be understood me, though. And I thank my parents, and Sage, for a most wonderful night.

P.S. Find my last review of Sage here.

The Ginger Room, aka My Mum’s 60th Birthday Dinner

Posted on March 13, 2012 by Hannah

Porke Rilette, The Ginger Room, Canberra It was my mum’s 60^th birthday this past Saturday. Happy birthday mama-dear! You fill up my life with sparkles of support and love and laughter and wisdom, and it’s only 8% frustrating and 92% wonderful that you’re pretty much always right about everything.

I don’t know where I’d be without you.

My mother’s birthday dinner took place at The Ginger Room, and a mighty fine time was had by all. The complimentary bread basket came with dense warm herb rolls (I’m thinking oregano and basil?) and cheesy puff pastry sticks that were tasty, but suffered slightly from being served cold. The amuse bouche was a pork rillette cooked in duck fat, topped with pickles. I love pickles.

My dad started with the “fried ginger, minted broad bean peanut salad, smoked tomato and basil dumplings” (third photo) and continued with the “salt and pepper prawns, heirloom tomato, coriander, red nam jim”. I wanted to try both of these, but by the time I remembered to ask, THEY GONE.

There will never be words enough for how awesome my grandma is. I love that she photo-bombed my photo of her “five spiced lentils, asparagus, goats cheese, candied pecans”. Grandma: never change.

I started with the “pambula rock oysters, mojito sorbet”. I’m a staunch advocate for eating oysters au natural, but the sorbet was incredible. So tangy and lime-y, with just enough bitterness threading through the sweetness. I ate the oysters, then the sorbet. It was like an entrée with its own dessert. Best.

My mum, grandma, and grandpa all enjoyed the “sesame crusted tuna, sake sticky rice, wasabi soy jelly, pickled ginger”. (By the by, I’m not showing every dish we ate, but rest assured every dish rated highly.)

My next course was the “san choy bow, chilli salted bean curd, tea quail egg”. I loved this; the mushroom and bean curd filling was intense and smoky, tempered by the crispness of the lettuce and the richness of the egg. My heart squeaked with joy when I went to eat one of the croutons on the side and discovered that it was, in fact, deep fried tofu.

Tangent: everyone who knows me In Real Life knows that I rarely drink. However, after the weeks I’ve been having recently… a glass of something zingy and delicious was definitely in order.

I love Rosé. (This was a beautiful Rosé, crisp and dry, not sweet, complex flavours.)

Sometimes I really love Rosé.

Dessert time! My brother ordered the “dark chocolate truffle cake, milk honey jelly, white chocolate snap”. While I always avoid chocolate desserts, I did think the truffle cake here was quite good. Perhaps because it tasted like straight dark chocolate, which is my drug of choice.

I was torn between two desserts, and so did what any good daughter would do and forced my dad to order one of them so that I could try both. Hence my dad’s “peanut butter mousse, nougat ice cream, chocolate praline wafer, caramel sauce”. I heart, adore, and worship at the altar of any restaurant that creates peanut butter desserts.

My dessert won the night, though. (Bonus points: it was dairy-free, gluten-free, and oh-so-close to vegan!) I would like to eat this “champagne and rose petal bubble, lychee, maltose tuile, blackberry sorbet” every night and every morning. The rosewater and champagne jelly was gorgeously fragrant, the lychees plump and fresh, and the maltose tuile was like scrumptious almost-burnt toffee. The blackberry sorbet was a tad too sweet and overpowering, but the sugared rose petals were pretty enough to make up for this tiny drawback.

Throw in some tiny little macarons and coffee to finish, and you can bet your boots I left The Ginger Room one happy, slightly-alcohol-giggly, family-adoring, mother-celebrating lady.

Question Time: What do you love about your mama?

Iori Japanese Restaurant

Posted on February 7, 2012 by Hannah

I’ve wanted to blog about Iori for quite some time now. It’s long been one of my favourite Canberran restaurants, and I’ve honed my order into entree-main-dessert perfection.

Unfortunately, Iori is tucked in a building without windows, which means the lighting is always low and not conducive to good photography. Ergo no blogging. However, I can no longer resist talking it up, so let’s all make nice and accept the supbar photos. Woot!

I’ve been to Iori for many excitingcelebrationtimes, including my birthday, family birthdays, treat nights, friends’ birthdays, and first dates. (In fact, I once received a late-night text from a friend whose birthday I’d years-ago celebrated at Iori, saying “Did I just see you at Iori on a date? I was there with my boyfriend too!” Clearly, she and I are creatures of habit.)

Last Saturday, my parents and I went to Iori to celebrate my dad’s birthday, and we started with the large sashimi platter. This is always my pick of the entrees. The sashimi is fresh, delicious, and interesting, going beyond the standard tuna, salmon, and kingfish options to include raw scallop, octopus, and three types of roe. As ever, we were very happy with this, particularly as we each have our favourites and didn’t have to duel at all.For his main, my dad ordered the Gyu-Sara: “Famous Japanese Gyu-don style beef with Onsen egg”. Personally, I think he should have ordered one of the kitschy-and-ridiculously-named dishes that Iori is so fond of, such as the “A.T.M” (“Assorted Tremendous Meal”), “This Is What I’m Talkin’ Bout”, “G.S.T.” (“Great Spirit of Tasmania”), or “Honey May I Call U Honey?” Yes you may, honey.

Please excuse the even-more-terrible photo; it was taken pre-blog.

My mum, like me, tends to order the same main. Her dish of choice is the Yakiniku, which is pork “in a delicious ginger sauce”. She’s a fan.

My main-of-choice is always the Kaki Nabe, a hot pot of oysters in a miso or dashi broth. The hot pot comes with a flickering blue flame underneath that keeps the broth bubbling, and is jam-packed with cabbage, carrots, tofu, a little bundle of rice noodles tied in a knot, the oysters, and at least one shiitake mushroom that I always save for last because it is the most delicious of all the things.

On other visits to Iori, I’ve sampled dishes like the above Tempura Soft Shell Crab…

…whilst scouring others’ meals in the hopes of finding pickles to steal.

Once pickle-searching is complete, my thoughts inevitably turn to the dessert that I yearn for despite the hurt it brings to my lactard self:

Black sesame ice cream, hurrah!

Except, well, can we please pause to consider why oh why the chef chose to plate the ice cream and wafer in this formation? (I mean, apart from the novelty factor, which caused my mum and me to burst into giggles while my dad rolled his eyes at us.) Is this some sort of not-subtle jab at my recent decision to return to singledom right before Valentine’s Day? If so, I take your sly and mean-spirited message, Iori, and I eat it. HAHAHA I WIN.

My parents shared Iori’s current “limited edition” dessert platter (only five available per day! Get it while you can!). It included lychee sorbet (nice), green tea daifuku filled with black sesame ice cream (my mother experienced hilarious [to me] brain-freeze twice in a row before deciding to give up on this), strawberry-filled mochi that was “seared delightfully”, according to the menu (“It is delightful!” chirped my mother), and a fried crepe roll filled with red bean that I thought tasted like toffee.

Many visits ago (again pre-blog, so the photo is worse than the rest), my mother ordered the green tea mousse with lychee sorbet, which was also muchly enjoyed.

Do I wish I had better photos of Iori to entice you with? Yes. Do I hope that you trust me when I say that Iori is fantastic and you should visit? Yes. Was it my father’s birthday on Saturday and my brother’s birthday on Friday? Yes. Happy birthday menfolk!

Question Time: Phallic desserts, yea or nay?

Flint Dining Room, or The First Birthday Dinner

Posted on June 3, 2011 by Hannah

It is spectacularly lovely to have a friend who is intertwined in your mind with innumerable glorious memories, memories which shimmer not with the harsh red and orange colours of dangerous adventures and hormonal-teenage fights, but with the silken silver and moss-green shades of deep knowledge and trust, endless hours of chatting, laughter at each other’s sillinesses, and secrets kept about girlhood crushes and dreams.

Jess, do you remember the time we lay down in the middle of your street and ignored the cold, talking as we breathed in the light from the stars?

I do. And I’m tremendously glad we didn’t get run over.

Jess, thank you for my wonderful 24^th birthday dinner last Friday night. It was the happiest I’d been all week.

Flint Dining Room and Bar

We started the night with three things:

Too many menus. Menus as placemats, “early bird” menus, a wine menu, and real menus. Seven menus. Too many menus.
A waiter whom I thought looked eerily familiar, and who turned out to have worked at a restaurant I attended weekly with my parents during first year uni. I would always order either lasagne or cheesecake for dinner. Yes, I said either.
Complimentary rosemary, walnut, and raisin bread, which would have been much nicer warmed up, but was certainly edible dipped into olive oil and balsamic.

Jess, being somewhat of a normal person, ordered the Derek Pizza for her main, which was topped with “mascarpone, salami, pear, roast capsicum, fresh jalapeno, and cheese blend”. It arrived on a Lazy Susan. This seemed ingenious at first. However, the Lazy Susan made it all but impossible to cut through the hard pizza crust, as the board kept wriggling away from us as we tried to cut.

Never let it be said, however, that wood overcame Jess and me. I snagged some of this pizza, and enjoyed the creaminess and the heat-kick of the jalapenos.

As for me? Well, I devised a meal for myself that ticked certain beloved boxes: vegetables and dessert. (BFF, look away now.)

I ordered two side dishes. First, and most excitinglywonderfullythrillinglynoI’mnotjoking, I requested the “honey caramelized brussels sprouts and chestnuts”.

Oh! how I love brussels sprouts, and oh! how I love chestnuts. The sprouts were soft without being soggy, and the chestnuts were plentiful and delicious. The sweetness of the sauce melded with the key ingredients, and although Jess told me I was allowed to stop eating when I felt full, I powered on, savouring each morsel from this plate.

Chestnuts, you must never leave me.

I also ordered “seasonal vegetables”, which I must admit I expected to be slightly more exciting than broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and beans. But you know what? They were well cooked, made my vegetable-adoring insides content and, most of all, didn’t get in the way of The Most Important Part Of Any Meal.

Dessert.

Dessertdessertdessert, oh wondertastical and magnificent dessert. For my birthday. Birthday dessert. Of dessertyness. Birthday.

Jess ordered the dessert which struck her as the most unique (within her allocated boundaries prohibiting nuts and seafood. The latter isn’t often a problem with dessert), the “crepe souffle with passionfruit sauce”.

We were both delighted with the tumble of spun toffee that perched at the pinnacle of the soufflé crepe creation. Do you want to know another reason why Jess is a spectacularly good person? Not only did she exclaim “I’m dining with a real food blogger!” when I pulled out my camera, but she didn’t mind when the time I took to photograph her dessert led the toffee to melt into the crepe.

Jess was really happy with her dessert, which in turn made me happy. My taste of the crepe also made me happy, as it was lovely and soft, sweet but not too sweet, tangy from the passionfruit, and made more delicious by the toffee.

When my dessert arrived, however, we both gasped. And then I clapped. And squealed a little bit. And was tremendously over-the-moon with excitement, because the plating was so very pretty.

My photos don’t do it justice.

The “watermelon tasting plate, with honey yogurt panna cotta, watermelon sorbet, rose water Turkish delight, and nigella soil”.

It was, in a word exquisite. Jess seemed greatly entertained by my carefully tasting and exclaiming over each individual portion before trying them together, but she soon understood my glee when I put together different combinations of ingredients on a spoon for her to try.

It was rather fun, playing around with all the different tastes and textures and flavours.

The watermelon triangles were sweet and juicy while the sorbet was more candy-like, yet still clearly a natural watermelon flavour. The honey yoghurt panna cotta was a surprise, both in flavour and form. It had only a whisper of sweetness and put forward an almost cream-cheese tang that, together with the chewy rosewater-tinted Turkish delight and sweet watermelon, was delightful.

And then came the nigella soil, which I had half expected to be black sesame but wasn’t. Go figure. This truly was a powder made from nigella seeds, and its smoky, nuanced flavour made both Jess and I pause upon first bite and then giggle at the excitement of it all.

You know what? I’m still really glad we were never run over by a car.

How To Make A Birthday Better

Posted on May 27, 2011 by Hannah

First and foremost, I have to say the most splendiferous, exuberant, metaphorical-hug-filled, joyous, honoured, grateful, and shimmering thank you to everyone who emailed, texted, messaged, and blog-commented such wonderful birthday wishes to me yesterday. It was you who turned a rather lacklustre and potentially cry-worthy day into a day of smiles. Thank you.

I have just returned home from being treated to a wonderful birthday dinner by a gorgeous and dear friend of mine. The combination of hours of laughter, deliciousness, chatting, and one of the most aesthetically beautiful desserts I’ve ever been presented with has ensured that I’m now firmly in Super Happy Birthday Mode, despite it technically being the day after my birthday.

I’ll certainly tell you all about the dinner (and my brilliant friend Jess) in coming days, but what I really need to do right now is lie down flat on the floor until my food-baby settles and I can comfortably move off to bed. In the meantime, I thought I’d show you the birthday presents I’ve received so far…

My very first present came to me on Wednesday night at Gospel, and was from Libby. She gave me a lovely pair of purple earrings and the above cupcake, which was so pretty I almost couldn’t bring myself to eat it. Almost. But then I remembered that I’ve never in my life eaten an extravagantly-frosted cupcake like this, and so I happily embraced my inner girly-girl and delved into its pink swirls. (I also scooped some of the frosting onto my morning oatmeal. Wouldn’t you?)

Another photo. Because it’s a pretty cupcake.

I may have only entered the world of full-time work two months ago, but Good Golly Miss Molly! My colleagues know me well:

Don’t believe me? Then take a look at what Jenni, she of Lumberjack and Eurovision Party fame, made for my boss’ and my (we’re both 26^th of May babies) birthday afternoon tea:

Wait, that might not be clear enough. Hang on a second…

Chocolate. Peanut Butter. Tart. Jenni even made the filling with soy milk, just for me.

It was swoon.

And then my brother, the magnificent, talented, and generous E.TeacherLord who recently overtook Toby Abbott during the Puffing Billy race, sent me a large and heavy package that made me squeal in girly-girl joy upon opening.

Four types of flavoured peanut butter from America (which have only just become available in Australia via a single online retailer), a large bag of peanut butter-filled pretzels, a raw vegan nut bar, and an Ancho chilli-flavoured chocolate.

He knows me well.

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