And yet, sometimes I get that urge to spread my wings, to see what else the world offers. So I have saved up some money, packed my bags, and will now head across the oceans to sample the food of the good old US of A.

As a nation, the USA has a mixed reputation when it comes to food. The first thing that many people think about when it comes to American cuisine is size. Enormous plates of food, much of it meat, much of it fried. This is a nation that sells deep fried butter at its state fairs (and I hear that it is wonderful), so the image of large, fatty diner food is probably not entirely unwarranted.

On the other side, America has some of greatest restaurants in the world. Names like Thomas Keller, Alice Waters, Daniel Boulud, Grant Achatz and David Chang are serious names in this industry, not only making great food themselves, but influencing the way the rest of the world cook as well.

On top of that, there are the great local cuisines, such as the soul food of the south, and Creole and Cajun in Louisiana. Then there are the world class ingredients, like New England’s supposedly incredible seafood.

So, how does a single nation reconcile all these different ideas, and different perceptions?

As I travel and eat and write, I will do my best to find out. For the next three months, I will be roaming the east cost of the United States, partaking in whatever great culinary adventures I can find. And I intend to tell you all about it.

So follow me as the Capital Gourmand goes on the road. I will be blogging and tweeting (@freehugstommy, or the hashtag #statesideadventure), probably focusing on a few themes. I want to write about some of the cities as a whole, in particular New Orleans, that jewel of the south. I will look at some of the world’s best restaurants, such as Daniel and Alinea. I will be exploring the continuing trend of the Locavore movement, with a chef who only uses ingredients from the south, and Blue Hill at Stone Barns where the vast majority of their produce comes straight from their own farm.

Lastly, and almost what I am most excited about, I intend to delve into a world that the US seems to do better than anyone, that of sandwiches. From the po’ boy to the cheesesteak to the many types of hotdog, this is a nation where every city seems to have its own iconic sandwich or two. And I want to try them all. Because everyone knows that everything is better when served between bread. To keep track of my sandwich tour, follow the twitter hashtag #USonaroll.

So join me as I wander and eat, and live vicariously through me. I hope it will be fun for all of us.

Address: Canberra Centre Shop FG10/ Bunda St, Canberra, 2600

Ph: 02 6162 1448

Website: www.creamcafebar.com.au

Hours: Monday – Friday: 7.30am – late. Saturday: 8am – late. Sunday: 8am – 4pm.

Cream, get on top.

Cream, you will cop.

Cream, don’t you stop.

Cream, sh-boogie bop.

These somewhat nonsensical lyrics from Prince’s nonetheless deeply sexy 1991 hit may seem out of place in a restaurant review, but there is logic to it past the obvious similarities in name. Because Cream, viewed through the large windows on the corner of the Canberra Centre, often seems like a music video as much as it does a restaurant.

This bright, clean room is populated by wait staff who echo the sleek, sexy lines of the décor. Lithe women in impossibly tight jeans and tussle-haired men in low-cut t-shirts flit between the oddly arranged tables with surprising speed an efficiency, overshadowing even the hordes of micro-skirted club hoppers that invade the place on the weekends to perch at communal tables and drink and nibble.

The room itself is beautiful, particularly the lighting, with a rose-like patterned light set into the roof, and a row of shaded globes hanging low over the pass (though I’m not if the lamps on booms facing the wall are quite what I would have gone for). There is a clean, sharp marble and tile bar in the middle of the room, although it misses its purpose, as it is too wide for the room, and too low for sitting at the bar.

It might feel that I am spending a lot of time talking about the appearance of the place, and being too superficial. But Cream is a bit of a superficial place. Yes, it is beautiful, but there’s not too much behind it. If it was a pop music video, it’d be more like a Katy Perry song. Sexy, but only in a surface way, without the undercurrent of eroticism that comes from Prince’s music. It also lacks that extra level of talent.

While everything looked great, the food was sometimes a matter of concept over taste. Take the dish Yuk Sung, their take on san choi bao. Have you ever eaten san choi bao and thought to yourself, “Hey, I wonder how this would go with a floppy piece of cos lettuce instead of iceberg?” No? Neither had I, and there’s a good reason for that. It doesn’t work. Trying to wrap large piles of minced chicken in a limp square of greenery caused a mess, leading eaters to revert to their cutlery, which misses the point somewhat.

Flavour wise, an overwhelming experience of hoi sin sauce made the whole thing very one note. Even when you did get the bite of pine nuts, it didn’t quite gel. A topping of crispy noodles was redundant, adding no flavour and being less textually interesting that the bean shoots.

For main course I decided to prepare myself for an upcoming visit to New Orleans by having jambalaya. I would question the validity, however, as I doubt that the traditional version has such an abundance of spring onion, and I could find no trace of the Creole Trinity of onion, celery, and green capsicum. It was a bland dish, made more disappointing by some mussels that didn’t seem to have opened. I’m expecting better when I hit the Big Easy.

A side of shoestring fries delivered what it was meant to, being thin, crunchy, and tasting of potato rather than oil. With it came an aioli that managed the balance between you being able to taste garlic, but not having the hottie you pick up at the club later tasting it too. That said, I should mention that this only counts as a side if you happen to be a family of eight, as the serving was enormous.

Dessert was a chai panna cotta, with a pleasingly tottering wobble and a taste of smooth cinnamon and clove. Sadly it was overpowered by the sharp sweetness of a citrus salad beside it, and could have been improved by something less astringent.

Here’s the thing about Cream. I don’t love it. But that’s ok, because it’s clearly not for me, or probably for many of my regular blog readers. This is not a foodie joint, a place to marvel over and savour what has been served.

Instead, it’s for people who wants to meet their friends and have some food and drinks, and don’t really care if the food is too good, as long as it isn’t too bad. These are people who don’t want the food to be so remarkable that it might stop their conversation.

This is a place that explicitly caters for hot young things wanting a meal to start their night before heading to Academy. It’s a place to see, be seen, and perve at the staff. And yes, the food is not particularly challenging, but (aside from the mussels), nothing was actually bad. You’re not going to love it, but you probably won’t hate it either. In fact, you’re probably going to struggle to remember it the next day.

There are a lot of things to like about Cream. It’s just that the food isn’t one of them. And that’s fine.

Having Katy Perry out there, with all the fans who love her, doesn’t stop me from listening to and enjoying Prince. The people who want Cream can keep it. I’ll stick to a quick glance at the beautiful people through the window on my way to somewhere much more interesting.

Address: 13-15 Woolley St, Dickson

Ph: 02 6248 8188

Hours: Wed-Mon noon-2.30pm, 5pm-11.30pm

Australia Day is one of the more esoteric of public holidays. With many people not paying attention to the history, and no real traditions to speak of (regardless of what Sam Kekovich says), it turns into a day of rather indistinct celebration.

And yet, many of us end up conforming to activities that are seen (generally incorrectly) as uniquely Australian. Barbeques, excessive drinking, getting sun burnt, and showing lots of flags are all popular activities.

While I did, indeed, join the populace in some of these activities, I also decided to have a meal out that fit in to the theme. So I went to eat the most traditional Australian food I could think of.

Bad Chinese food.

Found in ever town and suburb throughout the country since the gold rush, Chinese restaurants were the only non-European option in this country. So we took this great, ancient cuisine, and over 100 years completely ruined it.

In honour of this history, I wandered down to Dickson, to Jimmy’s Place, to order some classic dishes: Spring rolls, Sweet & Sour Pork, and Boneless Chicken with Lemon Sauce.

Now, I recognise that it is unfair to judge a restaurant when you’re deliberately choosing dishes you expect to be bad, so please don’t take this as a review on Jimmy’s. Because once we got over the shame of ordering, the food completely lived up to expectations.

These three dishes, and much of the Oz-Chinese around this country, are often based on three broad concepts. The first of these is the deep fryer. Now, I love a crisply battered bite of meat as much as anyone, but there is probably a limit to how much you should have in one meal. Here, the batter was quite good, particularly on the chicken, though a braise might have been a good idea.

Secondly, for some strange reason Australia has spent many, many years thinking that Chinese food is meant to be coloured like a cartoon chemical spill. Fluorescent red and yellow sauces adorn everything, most famously the sweet and sour pork, and at Jimmy’s this mostly continued to be the case.

But both of these slightly over-done aspects would be passable if it weren’t for the third aspect. Sugar. There was so much sugar in every sauce that they could have been served on ice cream. Even the lemon chicken, which was at least thankfully made with real lemons, was cloyingly sweet. We left one spoonful away from a diabetic coma.

Why did we, as a nation, do this to such a great cuisine? Why did we do it to ourselves? And how on earth did we enjoy it?

Of course, I am not blaming Jimmy’s for the quality of these dishes. Admittedly, other visits haven’t gone a lot better, but in this case I am giving them the benefit of the doubt. These weren’t bad interpretations of the dishes. They were just bad dishes to begin with.

There is so much wonderful Chinese food in this country, and in this city, but this is not it. This is the Chinese food of Australia’s past, when we were still a child nation, with everything all bright and sweet, but without any real substance.

Thankfully, at least on this front, Australia has grown up.

Address: 60 Alinga Street, Canberra City, ACT, 2601

Ph: 02 6248 5444

Website: www.laposada.com.au

Hours: Lunch – Monday to Friday, 12-2.30pm. Dinner – Wednesday to Saturday, 5.45pm until late.

It had that smell.

Aroma can drag you by the nose through your memories, placing you wherever the scent fits. They evoke real moments in your life, as well as dreamed ones, creating images and ideas that swirl together. Sometimes they fit where you are, sometimes they don’t.

Here, they fit.

Sweet tomatoes, garlic, and the yeasty odor of fresh made dough are the essence of Italy. The instant they hit you, the imagination flies to images of a big family drinking, singing and bottling passata.

For me, it brings back memories of a small deli in Rome, during a trip there a decade ago, where dozens of people would line the street, queuing for pizza bianco, cut into slabs straight from the oven. It is the smell of real Italian food, and it is far too often absent from Italian restaurants.

But when you walk into La Posada, over in the Melbourne restaurant, it smacks you in the face the second you walk through the door, and boy is it exciting. Your appetite is whetted before you even reach the table.

And mostly, the promise of this aroma is delivered. From the beginning, a very simple garlic butter focaccia, straight from the oven, has that punch of that greatest of bulbs on a thin, crisp base. It’s not brining anything unexpected, but that doesn’t matter when the simple is this good.

The same can be said with the pastas. Spaghetti e Polpette is the most basic strands of pasta in a sauce that is barely more than just tomato. But on the side of the place, with flavour belying their size, are three tiny meatballs of pork and veal. Rich, juicy, and one the best examples of this staple that I have ever had. A small amount of fresh shaved parmesan on top just finished it off (take note Mama’s Trattoria).

La Posada are famous for their pizzas, having used the same recipe for their bases since they opened in 1997. Nearly 15 years of practice has clearly done them some good. When you bite into them, the initial crunch gives way to a gentle chewiness.

While the base is the foundation of a pizza, it is the toppings that turn them into art. Here they are kept clean and simple, with Italian pomodoro pizza sauce and stretched mozzarella underpinning most options. On one named for the restaurant, sweetness of fresh tomato and smoky porkiness of pepperoni and bacon are cut through by the saline sharpness of Mediterranean anchovies, an ingredient that most people should give another chance.

An even more basic version is the Gorgonzola and Friends, with just this classic Italian cheese, a touch of chilli, and a slightly too large pile of fresh roquette on top. As a cheese, gorgonzola has that balance of sweet and savoury that is so pleasing that they were smart to leave it alone.

There were misses, still. The arancini were woefully dull. Completely underseasoned and with provolone cheese that were bland to the point of being ignored, these tasted like nothing more than rice. But this was the exception, rather than the rule.

For dessert, as always in Italian restaurants, I went with Tiramisu, and this was an excellent version. You could taste the coffee, and taste the Marsala, which is sometimes unfortunately rare. If I wanted to quibble, I could say that I’d prefer a little more mascarpone, but that’s just being picky.

La Posada is a great night out. It is simple food, done with real care, and not costing the world. Even the wine list, though short, has some real gems at around $40 a bottle.

I have been looking for a good, casual Italian joint for a while. With La Posada, I have finally found it. Now I just wish they could bottle that smell.

Address: Cnr Montague St & Dundas Pl, Albert Park, Victoria, 3206

Ph: 03 9690 5459

Website: www.thealbertpark.com.au

Hours: 12 noon till 3pm and 6pm till 11pm seven days

The Europeans get lunch right.

Now obviously that is a generalisation. I am sure not all Europeans do lunch properly, and I am sure there are many who do what far too many people in Australia do and just eat something completely insubstantial at their desk, but generally they seem to have the idea. At least, the movies show them doing it right.

Because in most of Europe, lunches are long.

The long lunch is an art form that is far too often ignored in Australia. For a few hours in the middle of the day a huge table is laden with food, everyone sits around with drinks in hand and eats and talks and drinks. Productivity be damned, that’s how to live.

Sadly, the demands of modern life make these great events upsettingly rare. Taking three hours to eat and drink before going back to work just isn’t practical, so you have to take the opportunities when they arise.

And what an opportunity the Christmas break provides. It is a short period of time when the vast majority of people don’t need to go back to work in the afternoon, and everyone wants to celebrate. On top of the main long lunch that is Christmas Day, it is always worth trying to fit in as many as you can.

Down in Melbourne for the break, a long lunch was organised by some friends at the Albert Park Hotel, part of the rapidly expanding empire of the Melbourne Pub Group. With eight of us seated around a long table outside on the decking, with palm trees sprouting through the wood, towering over everyone, it felt like what summer should be.

Wines and cocktails were dispersed around the table, and we settled in to ordering. This task was quickly passed to a single person: me. I, in turn, largely deferred to the waiter who was very free with suggestions.

Over the next few hours a parade of updated Latin street food, fresh seafood, chunks of meat and brilliant chips crossed the table. And my, we did eat well.

Two large platters of Pacific oysters came out first, offering us tastes of three different types of varying meatiness. While I feel they are always best eaten straight, the accompanying options of salsa fresca or gingered soy each offered a pleasing extra bite.

A long board was laid with rightfully highly anticipated “surf’n’turf” tacos. Small, soft, freshly made tortillas were filled with lobster, crispy pork, guacamole and pineapple salsa, coming together in an extremely crowd-pleasing few bites. Between the sweetness of the lobster, the fattiness of the pork, and a touch of sharpness from the pineapple, this was wonderfully balanced.

Mains were a simpler affair, lead by a large wood grilled snapper, cooked whole and portioned out in front of us. The flesh was sweet and soft, picked up by a salsa verde that benefited from a solid hit of samphire. Even better, the head and bones of the fish were left on the table, leaving the more adventurous of us to fight over the cheeks, the sweetest meat from the sea.

Rare breed, free range pigs are not only more ethical to eat, they also usually taste a lot better than the bland, ordinary factory farmed pigs that are usually available. The wood roasted suckling Large Black served at Albert Park was what pork should be; melt in the mouth tender, rich and, most importantly, actually tasting of pig. Served with apple and chorizo, it’s a classic combination for a reason.

Sides are all too often passed over, being placed on the table to pad out the meal. Here they significantly boost the rest of the meal. BBQ corn on the cob is sweet and smoky, cut through with fat from the queso fresca (fresh cheese).

But one side was even more exciting. A small bowl of the closest I have ever found to perfect chips. Crisp to the point of shattering when you bite into them, these thrice-cooked spears of potato were exceptional. This laborious cooking process creates miniscule cracks all over the potato, making for a larger surface area for the final hot oil to cook, so they aren’t at all healthy. But one bite of them, here with fried garlic and spicy bravas sauce, and you’ll forget all your worries. An absolute potato dream.

Desserts were kept simple. Good quality versions of crowd pleasers like cheesecake, jelly and ice cream, and crepes. Although, to be honest, my memories of dessert have been somewhat clouded by the copious amounts of well-suggested wines that accompanied the meal, chosen from an interesting list, old world and new. The volumes certainly contributed to the length of the event, and the contentedness of all concerned.

Considering everything that was consumed, the damage to everyone’s wallets was not unreasonable, coming out at under $150 a head. Not bad for an afternoon of great food, drink and company.

Now that the year has begun in earnest, and most of us are back at work, this style of eating is less available as an option. But next time you and some friends have an empty afternoon, consider the long lunch. If you happen to be in Melbourne, the Albert Park Hotel will show you how to do it right.

As we approach the Christmas and the New Year, it is time for my final post of 2011. Which means only one thing.

Welcome to the 2^nd Annual Gormie Awards.

As with last year, these are, of course, only my opinions. While I have eaten at a good many of the restaurants in Canberra, I haven’t been everywhere, and I haven’t eaten everything. But this is a brief rundown of the local dining scene through my eyes this year.

So first, to the big one:

The 2011 Gourmie for Best Restaurant

To me, there are only two contenders for the best restaurant in the city, and neither comes as a real surprise. Both do updated versions of classic dishes, and one leaning Italian and the other French. Last year’s winner, Dieci e Mezzo, and the rejuvenated Sage stand well above the other options.

And while at Sage Clement Chauvin has some amazing ideas, and is applying his Michelin starred training to them, it is still, at times, a little too high concept. Which is why this Gourmie is retained by James Kidman and his team at Dieci e Mezzo.

The food at Dieci has always been astoundingly good, and the new menu offers some summer gems. For example, a salad of pigs head and trotter is surprisingly light, with the rich fried pucks of meat kept a lot less fatty than would be expected, but still delivering on flavour. And their new chocolate dessert, of cheesecake and honeycomb, is like a Violet Crumble taken to the next level.

But what really makes Diecia step above the rest of town is the service. Floor manager and sommelier Michael Gray runs the floor with the quality and attention to detail that you’d expect from top restaurants everywhere, brought from his experience at places like Vue de Monde. It is something that you see so rarely in Canberra, and it complements the food to take Dieci e Mezzo to the next level.

The 2011 Gourmie for Best Dish

This is always a very difficult decision. To think back through all the dishes I have eaten in Canberra this year and pick out the best takes a lot of memory, and a lot of comparison between very different dishes.

There is no clear winner this year, no single dish that stands head and shoulders over the rest. But a number of plates do stick out in my mind, dishes that I would happily go back to.

Both this year’s most interesting dish, and the dish that I went back to most often, come from the menu of the sadly defunct Pelagic. For the short time that they were open, the food from Mick Chatto’s kitchen was always good, and frequently excellent. My stand-by was their sashimi, full of flavour and beautifully cut, really celebrating the fish.

But the real excitement was a little ordered dish, on the menu for a short period when a Swedish backpacker was in the kitchen. Taste of the Sea was a cold oyster and mussel jelly, with whole shellfish and samphire. Unusual, but incredibly evocative, this was like dunking your head inside a rock pool at the beach. If Pelagic was still open, this would have been a very strong contender for the prize.

Instead, I look to a dish that ticks a lot of boxes. A simple, clean celebration of its central ingredient, this is a dish that tastes great, looks beautiful, and is perfect for sharing. And all that despite being vegetarian.

The tempura fried cauliflower with puffed rice and namjin foam from Soju Girl is the shining light on a list of small dishes with many highlights. Its strength is from its simplicity, its use of texture, and the beautiful creaminess of the cauliflower. With dishes like this on the menu, Soju Girl deserves to be a hit.

The 2011 Gourmie for Best Wine List

I have really struggled with this one this year. Most wine lists in Canberra are well thought out, if a little predictable, and nothing really stands out.

Again, I probably would have given the gong to Pelagic. Not so much for their wine selections, excellent though they are, as much as for its extended drinks menu, as Geoff Fewell was mixing the best cocktails in town. But it is hard to award a place that has closed.

Thirst, last year’s winner, still has an excellent selection, and a useful guide. And most places have standard, if high quality, lists, with only a few unexpected gems.

With no clear choice, this year I am giving the Gourmie to Sage for a list that is indicative of the ones around the city, but here coupled with a very helpful sommelier. Matthew Anelzark is knowledgeable and generally willing to accommodate the diner where possible if there is a better option available.

The 2011 Gourmie for Best Cheap Restaurant

A new award this year, to celebrate the many great options at the lower end of the price spectrum. In a town with such a large student population, these cheaper restaurants are an important part of the local scene.

For my purposes, I am using the term ‘cheap’ to mean somewhere you can get a good feed for less than $30 per person (and, in some places, well less). Thankfully, Canberra has many great cheap restaurants, from the broad choice in Dickson through to the wide range of new places popping up in and around Civic.

On the shortlist are the fresh and interesting fish and chip variations from the Fish Shack, the fun, spicy Sichuan cuisine at Spicy Ginger Café, and during the day the coffee and paninis from Lonsdale Street Roasters.

But my favourite cheap meal this year was the classic Malay street food on the menu at Mamak Roti House. Between the crisp roti, spicy fried chicken, and pleasing Nasi Lemak, it’s hard not to have a good time with this food. The refreshing and different non-alcoholic drinks list adds an extra dimension to make it worthy of the prize.

So that’s it for this year’s Gourmies, and for this year. After a break over Christmas, next year I will be back to keep eating and talking. With still a number of Canberra classics needing to be visited, and the constant anticipation of something new, there is sure to be a lot to write about.

But the big excitement for next year will be Capital Gourmand going on the road. That’s right, from mid-February to mid-May, I will be on a Stateside Adventure, sampling the best the east coast of the USA has to offer, and writing back on every succulent minute.

So bring on 2012! Happy New Year to everyone, and may your meals, and your life, get even tastier.

Between shops being covered in tinsel from August onwards, awful cover versions of a handful of Christmas carols, and the absurd number of times Love Actually is shown on television, there is something about Christmas that makes people feel good, regardless of tackiness and commercialism.

But for me, what Christmas is really about is spending time with the people who matter to you. That, and eating a big lunch.

Yes, it is those dual joys of family and great food that really make the season bright, the two constants that have been there through every Yuletide (and most of the rest of the year). Christmas isn’t Christmas without my family and a fantastic spread. And as I read through the entries in this month’s Sweet Adventure’s Blog Hop on Festive Favourite desserts, I see that this is not a unique feeling. 

Every year, in the week before I head back to Melbourne to spend time with my wonderful family, I like to celebrate with the people that have been close to me throughout my year in the capital. Because, as they say, friends are just like a family you choose yourself. And my vast and varied Canberra family has been good to me this year.

I opened up my apartment to these friends for one rare occasion, cooking up a storm. With a broad selection of tacos to fill everyone up (the 12 hour roasted pulled pork was a particular hit), and a large bowl of watermelon margarita punch to turn it into a party, I made sure everyone had a good time.

But I wanted to do something special for dessert. Something that would get everyone talking and bring some of the fun that Christmas should be, but still have a touch of tradition about it. (Having something a little different to put on this blog hop was a bit of a consideration, too.)

The Christmas trifle is a classic crowd pleaser, bringing in cherries and berries to make it a bit more appropriate to summer. Sponge, fruit, custard, booze and really whatever else you want to include make for a dish that everyone wants to dig in to. But how to make it a little more exciting?

I don’t know about you, but I love the show Great British Menu. This year’s season, taped off Foxtel by my parents and mailed to me (didn’t I say my family were wonderful?), was about creating interactive, sharing food for a huge street party. My inspiration came from this, from chef Stephanie Moon’s creation of a Yorkshire Mess, served straight on the table.

I’d seen this before in a dessert from Alinea’s Grant Achatz, and both times I was blown away. What an idea! Why have individual dish for everyone when you can just give everyone a spoon and have them scrape the food off the tablecloth? This was a fun way to eat.

So, to a rarity for this blog: a recipe. Complete with something unique for Capital Gourmand – for the first time, my blog will have some photos! (Taken very kindly by my intrigued friends on their smart phones as they watched me plate up. I’ve borrowed these photos from my friend @Lyons_Ben – Thank man!)

Please note, my measurements aren’t perfect. For one, I ended up with way too much of everything, and secondly, my scales decided to run out of battery, which made judging amounts difficult. Also, some of my recipes have been borrowed from elsewhere. Where this is the case, I will acknowledge them.

Anyway, here it is:

Christmas Trifle Tree

First, work on the individual elements:

1.   Raspberry syrup

2 cups frozen raspberries

1 ½ cups sugar, plus a little extra

splash of white vinegar

Combine the raspberries with two spoonfuls of sugar and 1 cup of water in a saucepan over medium heat, stirring until the raspberries begin to break down. Once they do, add another 1 ½ cups of water and the vinegar. Bring to boil, then let simmer for 10-15 minutes.

Strain the mixture, returning the juices to the pan with the 1 ½ cups of sugar. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then bring to the boil for a few minutes and let cool. Once cooled, put in a squeeze bottle to make serving easier.

2. Crema pasticceria (taken from Robert Marchetti’s Zuppa Inglese from Guiseppi, Arnaldo and Sons)

Combine milk and vanilla bean in a saucepan and bring just to the simmer (do not boil). In a bowl, whisk together egg yolks, sugar and flour until thick and pale. Pour over half the milk, whisking continuously, then add this mixture back to milk on the stove. Whisk over low heat until thickened (3-4 minutes). Cool completely then whisk in mascarpone until smooth.

3. Sponge (adapted from the Basic Sponge Cake recipe in Gourmet Traveller)

Preheat oven to 180C. Brush a 20cm by 30cm cake tin with melted butter, line base with baking paper, dust sides with flour.

Triple-sift flour and set aside.

Whisk eggs, sugar and vanilla seeds in an electric mixer until thick, pale and tripled in volume (7-8 minutes). Transfer to a mixing bowl.

Sift over flour in three batches, folding each batch in with a large metal spoon.

Fold in melted butter.

Pour into cake tin, bake until light golden and centre springs back when pressed lightly with your fingertip (20-25 minutes). Pull cake gently away from sides of tin with your fingers or carefully loosen with a knife. Turn onto a wire rack, remove baking paper, turn back over, then cool completely.

4. Cherry Sabayon

5 egg yolks

7 tablespoons of sugar

1 ½ cups (roughly) of Heering

2 cups cream

Beat the egg yolks in a large steel bowl.

Add the sugar and Heering. Place the bowl over a pan of simmering water, whisking constantly until the mixture thickens, then remove from the heat and continue whisking until cooled to room temperature.

Whip the cream to stiff peaks. Fold through the yolk mixture.

5. Cream

2 cups cream

½ cup caster sugar

Dash rosewater

Whip cream with the sugar to stiff peaks. Mix in rosewater.

6. Raspberry Jelly (adapted from Robert Marchetti’s Zuppa Inglese from Guiseppi, Arnaldo and Sons)

Combine raspberries, sugar and 2 cups of water in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Boil for 2 minutes then strain through a fine sieve. Add gelatin to raspberry mix, stirring to dissolve. Cool completely, then add moscato. Pour into 20 60ml muffin molds and refrigerate until firm (1-2 hours).

7. Meringues

6 egg whites

330g caster sugar

1 vanilla pod

Preheat oven to 90C.

Beat egg whites with one tablespoon of sugar until the mixture has soft peaks.

Add the remaining sugar in stages. Beat at a high speed until glossy and hold firm peaks.

Pipe into rough 3 cm rounds on baking paper lined trays. Bake for 1 hour 45 minutes, then turn the oven off and leave slightly ajar until oven cools.

8. Boozy cherrys

300g pitted cherries

1 cup Heering

Soak cherries in Heering for at least 2 hours.

9. Shortbread (Taken from Baking for Britain)

110g slightly salted butter (or unsalted butter with a pinch a salt) – use direct from fridge

50g caster sugar

150g plain flour

50g rice flour/ground rice

Sift the flour into a bowl (along with the salt if you are using unsalted butter), and stir in the ground rice and sugar.

Put the bowl of dry ingredients on the scales and return the dial/reading to zero and (here is the clever bit) grate in 110g butter from a chilled block .

Work the grated butter quickly into the flour by rubbing first with the fingertips, and then between the palms of the hands. Once the mixture resembles breadcrumbs, stop.

Press the mix into a 20cm by 20cm square baking tin and level the surface. Chill in the fridge for about an hour.

Heat oven to 160C/320F/Gas 3, and then bake shortbread until light golden (about 40 minutes, but keep an eye on it).

Remove from oven and prick all over with a fork, then mark out into pieces (squares or fingers) cutting through to the bottom of the tin. Dust liberally with caster sugar, and then leave to cool in tin.

And now the fun part.

Assembly

Additional ingredients: Fresh raspberries, fresh pitted cherries

Before you begin:

-       cut sponge into 12 long triangles

-       remove jellies from molds and place on a tray

-       crumble up shortbread

Lay a large, very clean white tablecloth over the table.

Take the raspberry syrup and draw a large triangle on the tablecloth. Squiggle more syrup inside this triangle, like a rudimentary Christmas tree drawing.

Put streaks of crema pasticceria diagonally inside the ‘tree’. Also create a star at the top with the crema.

The beginning

Place the sponge triangles in a pattern down the ‘tree’, almost like branches.

Put a spoonful of the cherry sabayon on the centre of each of the sponge triangles.

Stage 2

Put a dollop of cream at the bottom of each of the sponge triangles.

Down the sides of the ‘tree’, alternate jellies and meringues.

Around the ‘tree’, place boozy cherries with streaks of the Heering. Also place a few boozy cherries on the corners of the crema star.

Over the top of the main part of the ‘tree’, scatter fresh raspberries, cherries, and crumbled shortbread.

The final product

Then, dump a handful of spoons on the table, stand back for a round of applause, then tell everyone to dig in.

All of my Canberra family had a great time eating this, and I strongly suggest you try table service with whatever dessert you can think of. It just adds an extra layer of fun to eating.

Once everyone has had their fill, it may leave a mess spread across the table, but it’s a joyful mess. And sometimes, a joyful mess is just what you need at Christmas.

Now, go look around the rest of the Blog Hop (thanks to @84thand3rd), and see what everyone else is eating for Christmas.

Address: Melbourne Building, 41/43-45 Northbourne Ave, Canberra City

Ph: 02 6257 5328

Website: sojugirl.com.au

Hours: Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday: 11:30am-Late. Saturday and Sunday, 2:00-Late. Closed Tuesday.

As all Australian food critics, amateur and professional alike, learnt this week that the reviews we write can be a dangerous game. The long-running legal drama of a defamation case between now defunct restaurant Coco Roco and former Fairfax Matthew Evans came to a head. The NSW Court of Appeals decided that Evans’ extremely negative review had defamed Coco Roco.

Matthew Evans had written a review saying that the food was bad, and that the owners were incompetent for hiring such a terrible chef, a view that it seems Evans was not the only one to hold. The restaurant went under six months later, something that the owners put down to this single appalling review.

As it has bounced through the court system, various issues about the nature and responsibilities of a critic were debated. Is a review to be read as objective truth, or as the opinion of the reviewer? And does this affect how you can talk about a particularly bad dining experience?

In the end, though, the point that turned the decision was much more basic. If a place is split into multiple restaurants, don’t review it as one.

Coco Roco was a split restaurant, with a formal section upstairs, and a less formal bistro downstairs. Evans only ate upstairs, but didn’t make this clear enough in his review. The judge decided that this implication that both restaurants were bad because one was removed the possibility of using truth as a defence.

It seems a petty point, but it was something to keep in mind when reviewing Soju Girl, Canberra’s newest bar/restaurant/bistro.

Thankfully, though, there were two points that meant I was unlikely to fall in the Evans trap: I have eaten in all three sections, and all three are good.

That said, the difference between the three sections is not particularly clear. Sure, one side has white tablecloths and table service, while on the other you order at the bar and take a number to a bare bench, but in both cases the menu is the same.

Not that there is anything to complain about with this menu. The focus is on modern-Asian sharing plates, and the chefs, formerly of Parlour, manage to keep everything light and fun.

The small plates are the stars, perfect for two or three people over a drink. A salad of cuttlefish with bacon jam and soft herbs is a fresh take on a Vietnamese salad, and a great summer dish. Meanwhile, small cubes of crispy pork, served with a sweet, sticky red date puree and cut through with black vinegar caramel, was helped by the decision to go with pork hock rather than belly. The meat is just as rich and unctuous, but without the large slabs of fat.

Particularly exciting is the vegetarian selection, which is one of the best in town. Amongst the four vegetarian small plates are a soft, spiced dip of steamed eggplant, packed with coriander. These are two of my favourite ingredients, and here they are married beautifully in this cooling dish, eaten on crisp rice crackers.

The cauliflower dish was even more exciting. Golden nuggets of tempura fried florets and heaped in the centre of a wooden board. The crunch of the batter gives way to the natural creaminess of the cauliflower, with the cooling softness of a namjin foam cutting through. It is one of the best dishes in Canberra this year, vegetarian or not.

Large plates are more traditional curry based dishes, and a little less exciting. No one seems to be able to resist ordering the coconut braised duck, and it does sound exciting in yellow curry. The curry sauce is rich and creamy, with a good punch of flavour. But the ample serving of duck demonstrates that there is such a thing as too tender. The meat is uncomfortably soft in your mouth, and a bit of a disappointment.

Desserts are interesting, ranging from the inventive to the basic. A sponge of sesame, served with white sesame ice cream and aloe vera jelly, is on the more unusual end. Quite savoury, with the roundness of flavour that sesame has, this was interesting and pleasant more than an unrivaled success. A more classic selection of mango meringue, mango sorbet, and berries was at the other end of the spectrum. Sweet and crowd pleasing, without leaving much of an impression.

If the food is the same in each section, the service does differ. Everything felt smoother in the restaurant section, making for an easier night than the more casual bistro. Although sitting at the bar is also a good option if you’re fine sticking with the small plates.

The wine list is short and well thought out, with enough to match to the food. For my tastes the cocktails are a little too sweet, as it is deliberately geared towards female drinkers (so the bartender told me).

Soju Girl is an exciting opening for Canberra, and hopefully can survive in what has been a difficult location for restaurants. But it is worth seeking out, because you will have a good time.

Whichever part of it you visit.

Address: 5 Bougainville St, Griffith ACT, 2603

Ph: 02 6162 3556

Website: urban-pantry.com.au

Hours: Monday to Friday: 7:30am-late. Saturday: 8am-late. Sunday: 8am-4pm

One week before the beginning of summer. And it’s raining.

Not just raining, but pouring. It’s the sort of rain that instantly soaks through everything, dropping in sheets rather than drops. An evening you could swim through, right before the heat comes along.

This meteorological aberration on a Friday night can dampen the spirits (if you excuse the pun). So to brighten them, I searched for three words that speak of summer to so many Australians: meringue, cream, fruit.

Yes, pavlova, that 80-something year old classic, named after the one of the greatest dancers of her time, then pronounced badly by us in the southern hemisphere (we extend the “o” sound more than the Russians). I am not going to enter into the trans-Tasman debate of the origins of the dessert, except to say that whoever created it did a wonderful day’s work that day.

Many of the food bloggers around the country are, this weekend, making their own versions of this, linking them all together in a celebration of the dessert. I have seen chocolate pavs, Black Forest pavs, purple mini pavs, and rainbow pav towers, as well as the classic style. Something for everybody.

I wanted to join in the fun, but alas my blog details my eating exploits, rather than my cooking. And so, instead of cooking a pav, I had to seek one out.

Unfortunately, it seems that, popular though they might be, pavlovas don’t grace many dessert menus. The promise of “Crisp meringue served w/ passion fruit fraiche & summer fruits” at Urban Pantry appeared to be the closest option.

Which brings me back to that waterlogged Friday, sitting outside by some large sheets of plastic that didn’t keep out the rain quite as much as would have been ideal. The corner location in Manuka is, I am sure, a lot more pleasant in the daytime.

The dessert came out, a picture of simplicity. A round, squat meringue was topped with a large dollop of cream. Strewn over this a kaleidoscope of colour, with a red, green, yellow and blue fruit salad made of strawberry, kiwi fruit, mango and blueberries. A drizzle of passion fruit rounded out the plating.

These are, to my memory, the classic pavlova fruits, which brings me to the question – did this dish count as a pav? What is the difference between a pavlova and a meringue with cream and fruit?

According to the wisdom of the internet, it appears to cornflour that makes the difference. It creates a spongier centre to the meringue, more filled than the chewiness and air of the French version.

At Urban Pantry, once you got through the disappointingly soft shell, the centre was that sort of light, airy sponge. If I had to put money on it, I’d say there was cornflour. Which surely means it was a pavlova, so why not simply name it that?

Although, it wasn’t as sweet as many of the pavlovas I have had. And this was possibly the problem, because without sweetness, there is very little left. In its classic form, it doesn’t really balance the sugar with much. There’s no bitterness, very little sour. It’s really only the touch of fattiness in the cream that cuts through at all.

And that’s fine. A big punch of sugar and cream is a wonderful thing. But it means it needs the sugar, so this was a little disappointing.

Much more exciting was the maple syrup tart, thick, sweet and warm. By itself, it wouldn’t have worked, being too dry and a little cloying. But pair that with salted cashew gelato, a smooth hit of cold nuttiness, and the balance I your mouth hits right on.

Though I guess that tart was a little outside the scope of this blog hop.

Also out of scope would be the excellent savoury dishes, like the soft pillows of ricotta gnocchi with a rich veal and roast pepper sauce. Or the lemony hit of skodalia, underpinning pork and salt-heavy prosciotto and haloumi. A side of corn on the cob, covered in butter, chilli and salt spoke to me of summer even more than the pavlova.

A few glasses from a short wine list that hit all the important marks rounded out the evening. Service was friendly, though a little slow, leaving us having to walk inside to get the bill.

Urban Pantry is exactly what a café/restaurant hybrid should be. The food is good, the room looks great, and everything is sitting on that line between relaxed and classy. And it will require a breakfast revisit, because where else in this town can you get Kedgeree?

It’s just a pity that pavlova was a little less impressive.

PS: It seems that WordPress doesn’t allow me to properly add Pavlova Blog Hop list, so go to www.ledelicieux.com to see the rest of the entries, and how to join.

Address: Shop 3, 355 Crown Street, Surry Hills, NSW, 2010

Ph: 02 9332 3300

Website: kyliekwong.org/BillyKwongs.aspx

Hours: Monday to Thursday – 6pm-10pm, Friday and Saturday – 6pm-11pm, Sunday closed

“Excuse me everyone,” called out the woman to the room full of strangers. “The food tonight was amazing, and I would like everyone to join me in thanking the kitchen staff.”

A hesitant round of applause arose from bemused diners all around the restaurant, unsure of exactly what just happened. It was not what you would usually expect at a quiet dinner in Surry Hills.

It isn’t that anyone would have disagreed with the sentiment. She was right, the food was excellent. But the delivery of this praise was a little strange. Couldn’t she just have left a tip like the rest of us?

Sometimes it is difficult to know how friendly you should be in a restaurant, to know what is appropriate and expected. This becomes even more of a quandary when the restaurant itself straddles the line between casual and formal.

Billy Kwong, the Sydney high temple of sustainable produce, is one that walks this tightrope. Styled as a casual, suburban Chinese restaurant, while serving some of the best of that style of food in the country, it is a mix. Think cheap plastic chairs and paper serviettes, but top end prices. Or really good Australian wines, served in low quality tasting glasses.

Then there is the celebrity chef factor. When Kylie Kwong sits at the window table to do her paperwork after a long day in the kitchen, I am not the sort of person that could go up and talk to her. I don’t want to bother her, and really don’t want to act that fanboy, accosting her with a camera.

Others are not so restrained. Which is their prerogative, and I can understand the motives, but it seems unnecessary when she is working. Though she did seem to accept it.

And, in many ways, Kylie Kwong is a celebrity chef worthy of the adoration. Her adherence to organic, sustainable and local food is admirable, and something to inspire to.

But all of that would mean nothing if the food wasn’t good.

Thankfully, it really is.

A dish of homestyle fried biodynamic eggs with organic tamari and homemade XO is surprisingly large. Vibrant orange egg yolks coat the tongue and dribble down your chin, while the XO sauce gives a kick of rich spiciness. It was a plate of food that delivered more than it promised.

My love of eating with fingers was sated by fatty pork belly, wrapped in thin pancakes. This is an increasingly popular dish these days, and as pork, pancakes and a sauce, it is hard to go wrong. But it is hard to really stand out.

Especially when up against the famed crispy skin duck with organic orange sauce. The slightly charred duck skin crunches with a smokiness, balanced with the sweet bitterness of the orange sauce. Spice, citrus, and fatty duck is a hard combination to dislike.

While the meat was excellent, it’s vegetables that really carry the restaurant’s philosophy. It’s exciting to eat a native plant that has been eaten in this country for millennia, and more exciting still when that plant happens to taste great. Native saltbush, named for the strong salty flavour, is here stir-fried with ginger. A very powerful dish, and too intense to eat all by yourself, this was a different and enjoyable side.

By placing food of this quality in such a relaxed, casual restaurant allows all the focus to be on the food. Sure, I didn’t love the chairs, or the glasses, but those things fade into the background next to that duck or those eggs.

Billy Kwong is a place well worth eating at, and well worth praising. But for the comfort of your fellow diners, maybe thank them privately.