L'Angolo

350 Nicholson St, Fitzroy; (03) 9077 2013

(Note: the pictures in this post are of a notably higher quality than my usual - because I didn't take them, and the person who did has better skills and equipment! Many thanks to JC)

What is a 'true' Italian restaurant? One of Fitzroy's newer additions, L'Angolo, claims it opened in response to Melbourne's need for one. It's a disingenuous term, since in Melbourne we tend to be savvy enough about Italian cuisine to sneer - albeit discreetly - at places that try to cover the whole boot. We embrace restaurants that declare themselves to be all about the toe, heel and, most commonly, the poor little island about to get a kicking.

What is setting L'Angolo apart at the moment is its (hopefully) monthly themed nights, where it zooms in to a particular region of Italy. In March, the region in the spotlight was Sicily, in particular Palermo. For $60, guests feasted on four signature dishes and supped a glass of Sicilian wine. Brilliant value. Notably too, the dishes on offer are not merely a re-ordering of their everyday mains. This shows a commitment to making the event special, though it's also a shame when a stand-out dish isn't one you can go back for later.

First out to the table were the antipasti palermitani. Note that this is one of two platters that came to our table of four. This platter isn't on their regular menu - if it were, this plus a glass of wine (starting at $6.50 for a house red) would make for a wonderful, cheap night out.
Let's start at the front: baby bruschetta with a dollop of caponatina (eggplant cooked with tomatoes and olives); going anti-clockwise, the next items are torta salata di spinaci (probably the least exciting item); at the back nestle panelle, little buns filled with wonderful chickpea fritters; and sfincionello, Sicilian focaccia topped with caramelised onion and tomato - delicious, but a little hefty given there were three courses to come! In the middle are two fine arancinette, as well as some rocket and pecorino. As a group they made for a lovely presentation, and each one highlighted its own distinct Sicilian flavours.

Both the primi piatti and secondo featured swordfish, but in two very different fashions. The primi piatti was a triumph. Spotted from a distance heading to other tables, it looked like a delicious dessert. Instead, up close, it revealed itself as slivers of eggplant elegantly draped over a skein of spaghetti, within which hid morsels of swordfish, delightfully set off by a touch of mint. L'Angolo call the dish a timballetto, which is normally pasta in puff pastry, but their own take on encased noodles was superb.

In the main dish of involtini di spada the swordfish held its own morsels, this time of breadcrumb dotted with raisins and pine nuts. Alongside were some so-so prawns alla palermitana (the flesh was a little gluggy) and a fennel and orange salad, a welcome aid to digestion at this point in the meal.

What was notable about the savoury courses was the lack of red meat. While doubling up on the main flesh (swordfish) at first seemed surprising, it in fact made the four courses far easier to stomach, and made a welcome change to having to leave half a scotch fillet behind by the time you get to the main course.

For dessert it could only be one thing: cannoli, filled with ricotta, a hint of marsala and 'scaglie' (shavings) of chocolate.As with the swordfish in the timballetto and the raisins in the involtini, those little studs of choc were a treasure of taste, ensuring that these richer ingredients didn't overpower the bulkier ones - perhaps therein lies their claim to be purveyors of 'real' Italian food.

Añada

197 Gertrude St, Fitzroy; 03 9415 6101

It's so hot right now. Food reviewers around Melbourne are loving Añada's work. Clearly Melbourne's diners are fond of tapas too, given the struggles many have getting into Movida Next Door (which doesn't take bookings), and Añada (which, thankfully does). Despite its more welcome policy, even on a random Wednesday they had but two seats available: in at 6pm, out by 7.30.

There's just something about tapas that excites the crowds. Añada does the pick-and-mix variety - most dishes allow you to order by the piece. Maybe one Coffin Bay scallop with squid ink migas (migas is a crumb topping, usually made with old bread - I assume the reference to squid ink indicates what its soaked in); a rabbit empanadilla; or a round of fried eggplant topped with mint, chilli and a dollop of labneh, plated up all on its own.
On the other side of the menu are the raciones. Raciones are bigger, though hardly overwhelming, but it's a lesson in good produce as to how satisfying a few of those little plates can be.

A signature dish, from the raciones side, is the bacalao with broad beans and ajo blanco (the latter made from almonds, garlic, oil and water; normally served as a cold soup but in this cash as garnish). On the night we visited they were out of bacalao - a bit of a blow - but offered swordfish instead. Neither my dining partner nor I rave for swordfish, but this dish was just magnificent.

Setas al jerez - mushrooms cooked with sherry - were similarly rewarding. Mushrooms are wonderful for absorbing flavours, and the sweet richness of the sherry mixed with the mushrooms' inherent muskiness was a terrific match.

I don't believe in eating tapas without partaking of some kind of potato. The patates a lo pobre where certainly slow cooked, as the menu promised: they had taken on an enormous amount of flavour from bay leaves, pepper and oil.
The 7.30 deadline didn't become an issue, as it happened, even as we prevaricated over whether or not to get dessert. On offer was pomegranate sorbet, orange water drizzle, sugared pistachios - shows to go just how filling small dishes of food can be given I didn't order it.

Provincial Hotel: $10 pie and pot

299 Brunswick St, Fitzroy; 03 9810 0042

I love a mid-week deal. We headed to the Provincial Hotel for the inaugural run of their $10 pie and pot. The pie options cater to the red-, white- and non-meaters: there's steak, chicken and mushroom, or pumpkin (and feta?). The pot of choice is Boags Draught (beats Carlton at least).

The Provincial is one of those shabby-chic places - all distressed concrete outside, and a brooding, quirky interior of dark wood, with a sloping crimson bar fronted by wrought-iron stools. The sign advertising the pie and pot also spruiked an open fire, which coupled well with visions of splitting open a pastry case to reveal a steaming interior of meat and veg in thick gravy.

Well, not quite. Here's the steak pie:
The casing is in fact puff pastry rather than shortcrust. They've missed a trick there: it seems so obvious me to match a pot with a pot pie. The sign didn't say puff pastry parcel and pot (though, with that much alliteration, it might have got me in regardless). The steak filling was a little wanting, but the chicken and mushroom filling was lovely, though not lovely enough to make up for the lack of shortcrust.

You may notice two things about the piccie above: a) the chips on the plate and b) it's not the sexiest plate of food ever presented. The chips come via the pot and pie upgrade: for $3 you get mashed potatoes, chips or salad on the side. I'm always a bit put off by the mid-week deal that then offers you a bit more for a bit more, because I immediately feel like I'm getting less. See, if I go for a $10 deal that's all I'm going to spend, there's no upgrading. But the optional, paid extra just highlights that you and the restaurant are doing something a bit on the cheap. And when it comes out on the plate looking that ordinary, it doesn't help.

I understand the establishment is offering a special deal, but their purpose presumably is to increase bums on seats on the quiet nights. If I got a great plate of food - pie plus chips or a simple salad, I'd have a fuzzy feeling indeed about the pub, and make a mental note for the next Wednesday night I was looking for somewhere to go. If the side orders aren't doable for a tenner, why not make it an $11 or $12 pie and pot, meet your margins and get people back in for a second go?

The evening ended, however, with inspiration. I'd heard gushing reports of the Provincial's tiramisu, which is only available from the cafe area, rather than the bar. Turns out, they do their desserts to takeaway, and with 'Spicks and Specks' time looming, we decided to make a dash for home with dessert stashed for some decent couch time.

'Huge' doesn't come close to telling the story of this tiramisu. And even in foil rather than ceramic, it tastes a treat.

De Los Santos

175 Brunswick St, Fitzroy; 03 9417 1567

I could sum up my visit to De Los Santos in the words of a close, food-loving friend: 'I guess everywhere can't be fabulous'. As I was considering how to write the restaurant up, I was struggling to come up with the words that indicated disappointment, but didn't engender a completely negative impression of the place. And 'not fabulous' is an indirect, but accurate, choice of words, since it wasn't wholly bad either. Indeed, its online presence features some wholly glowing reviews. Dining out is nearly always a balance of positives and negatives; on this occasion negatives seemed to come in twos and thereby outweigh the positives.

I was extremely enthusiastic about dinner. Their menu is available online, and I wondered how I'd limit my tapas selection sufficiently in order to leave room for paella and dessert, all of which I considered must-haves.

We started well with the tapas: we chose a special (not photographed), featuring chorizo, beans and morcilla (otherwise known as blood sausage), in a tomatoey sauce. This was just delicious; the chorizo was quite spicy, the beans were cooked to spot-on firmness, and the morcilla provided a balanced saltiness.

Our second tapas - bola da patata - was also wonderful. Potato dumplings - firmer than gnocchi but not as crispy as baked spuds - sopped up a porcini sauce and fat mushrooms were wonderfully garlicky.
We chose the seafood paella - with mussels, calamari, prawns and fish - over the mixed meat version - which comes with chicken, lamb and chorizo. Paella's a filling dish and I thought we'd be better served with the lighter seafood. Understandably, the minimum paella order is for two (it's served at the table in its paellera), and at $26 a head that kind of makes it a $52 main. The traditional pan crisps a layer of rice as it sticks to the bottom. This rice, while very tasty, was a little mushier than crisp (perhaps too much broth, although it wasn't over moist).The disappointment was the seafood. The prawns, although massive, were sinewy rather than succulent, and the calamari tasted emphatically of nothing. The clams shared the attribute of size with the prawns, but one tasted purely of seawater. I surmise that the rice is cooked en masse, and the relevant extras added according to each order.

Potentially, the paella con pollo y cordero would have been a better choice on the night, but then again, you can't get much more signature dish than paella marinera at a Spanish restaurant, so I'd expect it to be more reliable.

Eager to reclaim the authentic dining experience I'd been dreaming of, I ordered the crema catalana for dessert. It's a dish that when done well is unmissable, but when less than skilfully is at best forgettable. The key to great crema catalana is delicacy of flavour, an impossibly smooth custard releasing hints of vanilla, cinnamon or zest. The caramelised top cracked open enticingly, but the custard was bland, flavoured mainly by the raspberries layering the bottom, and exhibited worringly inconsistent temperature.
Upon request, our bill was brought to the table without comment or eye contact; when we left, we passed five wait staff, none of whom offered any kind of farewell. One of those incidents, after a meal of complete food, wouldn't rate a mention. Similarly, a lack of farewell from one staff member already occupied I can forgive, but from all five indicates a certain lack of awareness of the proper relationship between diner and waiter.

I think my big disappointment was less with the quality of food - as we've established, it can't always be fabulous - but that this was so far away from an authentic Spanish cuisine experience. Where is that to be had in Melbourne?

Hungary in the suburbs; North Fitzroy Arms & 'Prague' - Arthur Phillips

296 Rae St, North Fitzroy; 03 9489 8519

Recently, I've been working through a novel called Prague, set thus far entirely in Budapest. I felt a similar, though far more rewarding, disconnection with expectations this week when I ate a fine goulash at a pub with the distinctly local name of the North Fitzroy Arms. Perhaps both the novel and the pub are living in another time: the former in the tumult of 1989, when capitalism flooded the Danube, and the latter when Fitzroy Lions + Brisbane Bears did not equal one team north of the border.

(A third, related disconnect cropped up coincidentally this afternoon, when I spotted a white Mercedes M-class with the number plate PRAGUE.)

Goulash is Hungary's version of the slow-cooked dish every nation worth its sea salt lays claim to as a national cuisine. The Hungarian offering - a stew of beef and onions in a rich gravy sometimes thick enough to submerge optional dumplings - has a vermillion vibrancy thanks to the addition of paprika. In this North Fitzroy interpretation, the meat, almost melted in its slow cooking, is cuddled around a wodge of creamy mash flecked with spring onion. It was simply divine. The pub's proprietors are named on its website as Volbi and Zorka and they've clearly brought home-learnt skills to spoil those in the inner north lucky enough to stumble upon them.

SG stuck with something a bit more nationalistic, the kangaroo fillets with mushroom risotto and beetroot. The pub is also known as Haskins Restaurant and the folk behind the stove certainly know how to treat their meat, serving up several slabs of pink, seared, juicy roo fillets. The food and wine prices are generous; customers are welcome to order from both bar and restaurant menu in either area of the pub; and they offer a varied, non-Fosters list of wines by the glass.

Arthur Phillips, Prague's author, is an American who lived in Budapest for two years immediately after the fall of the Iron Curtain. The novel features five North American characters, each of whom has found themselves in Budapest for different reasons, although all are unified in feeling it's a place of opportunity thanks to the monumental economic and political changes underway. The perspective, however, is one of an outsider, although it does attempt to engage with locals and deliver, through character histories, an extensive history of Hungary through two World Wars and multiple revolutions. However, with all but one of the protagonists ignorant of Hungarian it is necessary for them to meet English-educated Hungarians in order to progress the story, which to me limits the efficacy of the native perspective (particularly as Russian was far more common as a second language than English in the eastern bloc).

To write such a story with an actual insider's perspective, however, would place it within the Hungarian canon and therefore immediately hinder its entry and acceptability to the readership of Western countries. Think of recent Nobel prize winners - such as Frenchman Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio (last year's winner) and most pertinently Hungarian Imre Kertész (2002), who are virtually unknown outside Europe, despite decades of reputable work. There is, therefore, an inherent dichotomy in a foreigner trying to tell the story, no matter how vital, of a land not his own.

As for the title, it is perhaps an ironic device (the blurb explains that the five American expats 'harbour the vague suspicion that their couterparts in Prague have it better'). Perhaps naming the novel outside its setting represents the cultures that have been imposed - forcefully through war or unwittingly through the embrace of capitalism - upon these small, confused eastern European countries. A simple name is not enough of an identity in the face of such change. However, as when one of the characters questions a Serb as to why he finds it so important to insist he's not Yugoslavian, since 'they're all the same', it is a device that belies its own effectiveness by what it denies: the importance and weight of these countries' centuries of history.

Toast; North Island and Crunch

North Island: 111 Scotchmer St, North Fitzroy; 03 9486 8864
Crunch: 669 High St, Thornbury; 03 9495 1655

"It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you," opined British food writer Nigel Slater in his memoir, Toast. I haven't quite fallen in love with the cafe staff who have provided me with a golden serve of carb with toppings in the last couple of weeks, but as long as the bread is good and the grilling hand steady, it is a marvellous thing to sit down to.

In an attempt to reclaim January as a relaxed, vacationing month, I headed out on spontaneous mid-week jaunts to tick yet more local cafes off the list. I wasn't after Big Breakfasts - more to get a feel of the place, sample the coffee, and quiet my gurgling morning belly. It can seem odd to leave a kitchen amply stocked with a toaster, bakery bread and quality Australian honey to order and pay for a plate of toast; then again, like a cup of tea, the flavour and crunchy delight of toast is somehow enhanced when someone else makes it for you.

At North Island, they took care of the toasting and slicing, but the rest was up to the diner.The simply served plate of pide, avocado and lemon fits the cafe's atmosphere, a proponent of the Brunswick model of minimal kitout, eschewing fancy touches in favour of good coffee and basic menu items with a twist. I had to interrupt David Sedaris (not him in person, unfortunately; rather, his humour, in the form of Naked) to effect my own avocado and lemon distribution. But look at that avocado - that's why you order out. I've never had one at home that looked like that: mine are browny green and mushed before they even leave the skin (due to my flesh-extracting technique, rather than inferior produce!). Accompanying this indulgently simple start to the day was a fine coffee.

Thornbury's Crunch probably isn't a cafe that many people cross town for, but it's one that looks after local shopkeepers and families with adequately prepared cafe staples for breakfast and lunch.

Their sourdough toast comes with a side bowl of orange and tamarind marmalade. Tamarind is vital for giving that extra oomph to good satay sauce, and combined here with the orange it produced a tartness best enjoyed via a light smear, rather than a good dollop. A refreshingly intercultural way to start the day with toast.

Birdman Eating

238 Gertrude St, Fitzroy; 03 9416 4747

Birdman Eating defines itself with its own font, featured in its logo and on the menu, which can at first glance look like hieroglyphics, until one focuses and discerns many brunch and lunch options. Similarly, from the outside this is 'just another cafe' - wooden tables and padded stools out the front, with a perving bench visible just inside the front window - whereas venturing inside reveals a different story. Chic diners lean against a patterned banquette, resting glasses of wine on darkwood furniture that is definitely not reclaimed.

Both menus, however, keep things a bit out of the box. The brunch signature is baked eggs, with four or so variations on the specials board each day (such as caponata, or pumpkin, feta and rocket). Claire over at Melbourne Gastronome has good reports (and links to other reviews) on that dish, as well as photos proving that they actually manage to serve them with still-runny yolks. On our visit, the day may have been sunny and our outdoor table rapidly become excessively warm, but I couldn't go past that winter comfort food - welsh rarebit - for my morning tea (a great way to slip in a drink in pre-lunch!).
It was enjoyable: with thick-cut bread, crusty but soft inside, and plenty of onion-flecked cheese, but there was a teaspoon or so too much mustard in the mix on each piece.

Much more interesting, exciting and refreshing, was the dish served up to my dining partner (cushioned by an old piece of sheet music, no less). A slab of baked vanilla ricotta perched on a jumble of juicy, delicious fruit: watermelon, rockmelon and pineapple. The ricotta was stunning - firm, incredibly creamy and redolent with vanilla. What a great way to match cleansing and decadence.

Houndstooth

36 Johnston St, Fitzroy; 0411 404 374

Houndstooth, as a textile design, is the pattern most famously associated with David Jones and its exclusive brands of chic styling. Its namesake in Fitzroy, however, eschews chic for cheap, but doesn't discount on style.

Houndstooth is actually doing something a little different. It's a bit like being able to pick three curries and rice at a suburban takeaway, except here you're eating in, with bar on hand and some super-slick interior design (recessed chandeliers, cockroaches in silhouette on the wall), and you're selecting which dishes from a range of five 'courses' you want brought to your solid wood communal table.

The courses on offer are starter, entree, main, dessert and cheese. Each has several options: taking one from each might result in nibbling on olives while you await spiced prawns; filling up on pumpkin bake with tahini and tarragon; finding space for chocolate cake; then knocking off a slice of chevre. The pricing couldn't be simpler: it's $15 for two courses, $20 for three and $25 for four. If you want more than you ordered, just hand over an extra five dollars while ordering at the bar. While there you might also ask for one of a huge range of bottled beers and ciders, or a glass from an intriguing wine list, stretching from a conventional Seppelt shiraz to a toothy Spanish sav blanc.

It's liberating, whether you decide by price or appetite. And through the range we sampled, Houndstooth matches quality with value, serving up enough to keep you satisfied, and no more.

A mushroom, water chestnut and ginger wonton (yes, singular - on menu and plate) dressed with mirin soy and chili probably takes less time to eat than it did to write up, but that's partly because it's so good. A gorgonzola and thyme caramelised onion tart was a little oilier than it needed to be, but exhibited a fine, pliant pastry and was softly satisfying all the same. A plate of jamon delivers far more volume than expected. It's La Jabuguena - not the most expensive cut, but nor would one expect so. The thicker slicing, while not the ideal way to savour this fatty, cured meat, at least allowed the rare treat of eating jamon lavishly, rather than sparingly. A 'glass' of grissini served as bonus bread for the meal.

The greatest raptures were reserved for a starter of scallops with spicy chorizo. Two molluscs proudly supported their thinly sliced, meaty coverings, and were bathed in a broth that demanded to be slurped from the shells.

The only main we'd ordered was the fish curry, with tamarind, lemongrass, ginger, coriander and coconut. It was suitably zingy and refreshing, though the first bite was the least impressive, as it comprised mainly of tamarind seed - not an attractive flavour. Not being a regular fish curry eater, the softer meat texture took some getting used to. Despite the dish's small appearance, it proved more than ample.

Three desserts graced the table: a tiramisu that, while enjoyable, was more sponge than savoiardi, and could have used some cream or marscarpone. Both the pecan and lemon tarts came with a fine vanilla cream. The latter was almost cheesecake dense, and not too sharp.
It was satisfying to be in a venue that didn't conform to emerging inner-city dining trends. The Age's Dani Valent described the fare as that of 'a talented home cook hosting a dinner party two days shy of pay day'. It isn't top-shelf stuff, but there's enough of it; it's handled more aptly than most of us have skill for; and you know, undoubtedly, that you're getting the best that they could offer for the price. Make sure your plans are to head there after work, however: they're so anti-trend that opening hours are dinner, Monday to Friday, only.

Mao's

263 Brunswick St, Fitzroy; 03 9419 1919

The visual impact of this Brunswick Streeter is immediate and effecting. At the same time, however, it seems muted and perfectly suited. That's why architectural firm Six Degrees has the reputation it does for creating memorable and inspired spaces. The restaurant feels undoubtedly Chinese: its namesake adorns the wall in a vivid portrait, tea-sets sit atop partitions between the tables, and the cushioned bench seat is embroidered with Chinese characters - but this is no Chinese takeaway.

The sweet and sour pork and honey lemon chicken familiar to suburban Chinese diners the western world over is Cantonese cuisine. At Mao's, the regional fare on offer is Hunanese. Seafood features strongly on the menu, as do pork and duck. Eggplant seems to be the vegetable of choice for the dishes sans meat.

Our vegetarian selection, however, was limited to spring rolls. The entree consists of two pieces, but they are of a size that makes them worth at least double the smaller variety (compare a recent serve at Thaila Thai). I liked that you could see the pointy end of the (presumably very recently) rolled wrapper. There was no wasted space inside: each roll was dense with Chinese mushrooms, cabbage, sweet potato (noted as 'yam' on the menu) and vegetables, which meant you hit the peppery filling as the flaky pastry dissolved on your tongue. The accompanying soy sauce was gratifyingly thick and clung to the rolls.

Four pieces of spicy calamari arrived atop sliced chillies, onions and mixed lettuce leaves. The calamari meat was wonderfully firm. The batter was quite a thick, crispy one; I prefer calamari in a lighter batter, but on this occasion it filled out the entree very well.

The seafood section of the menu looked very promising, and it supplied my choice of main: claypot king prawns with shallots, garlic, cinnamon and nutmeg. Shallots and garlic are common ingredients in Hunanese cooking, and they were prominent in this dish too: alongside jumbo prawns came quarter and half cloves of garlic. I love the stuff enough to always be happy to be able to see it in a dish! There were at least five king prawns, unshelled and (in at least one instance) unveined; so it was messy-finger time. The menu mentioned 'a touch' of cinnamon and nutmeg, and these sweeter spices certainly didn't imprint on the dish too strongly.

Why go past a dish described on the menu as Chairman Mao's favourite, in a restaurant bearing his name and in which he smiles benificently at diners from the wall? (Dictators were a theme of the night, as I later found myself under Stalin's rather sterner gaze at Bar Open.) Hunan-style pork features a pot of chopped rib pieces with a glistening, thick sauce of dark soy, flavoured with garlic and star anise. Not surprisingly, the pork pieces were quite fatty but the dish fell short of being sickly sweet. There are some vegetables hiding under all that pork, their crispiness a nice counter to the tender meat.

Overall, the flavours were pleasant and present; by which I mean, although my prawns came with spears of spring onion and visible garlic, and the calamari was sitting on big pieces of chopped chilli, none of those accompaniments overpowered anything. Just as the fitout was both familiar and unusual, this outcome was welcome and surprising: I wouldn't have wanted to come out with a numb mouth, carrying too strong a scent of any of the onion family members, but then again one would have expected more flavour bursts from such striking ingredients. That's not a criticism: I thoroughly enjoyed the balance of each dish, perhaps helped by the fact that Hunanese cooking often involves steaming, adding visual colour to dishes; and avoiding the overwhelming, oily glugginess that can make a lesser Chinese takeaway a regrettable choice. No such regrets here!

Julio's doughnuts

Julio is a wondrous neighbourhood cafe in North Fitzroy. It's set on a corner, only a couple of hundred metres from St Georges Rd, but infinitely quieter. It features a brief menu of very decent breakfast and lunch dishes, but much of its fame owes to its doughnuts.
(Handy that they make it easy to tell which is the jam and which is the custard!)

In the city the other day I saw a sizeable lorry outside a Krispy Kreme, bearing the name of that particular chain. When I considered the size of a doughnut, I wondered how they could ever require vehicular transporation of that size, unless, as is likely, they are manufactured on such a scale and with such disregard to quality that such a vast number of them could be shipped at the one time.

Julio's doughnuts could not be more contrasting to that concept. These sugary delights are so fresh they need to be eaten the morning of purchase - don't pick some up thinking 'ooh, I'll have that later'! As with any fresh-made doughnut, they are at the prime when consumed as soon as possible after the union between dough and oil. At this time, the outer layer retains a crispness that is ever so slightly teeth-resistant, before you plunge through to soft, soft dough.

Their custard doughnuts are the stars. The filling is just astonishing: you know that someone stood over a stove, stirring the egg and milk and sugar until it was exactly right. The flavours of the thick, creamy yellow filling split apart in your mouth, allowing you to savour vanilla and a distinctive lemony taste, reminiscent of an especially creamy lemon meringue filling.

The jam-filled doughnuts are not to be disregarded: filled with a deep, dark red raspberry jam, they combine the fruit's tartness with all that tongue-tingling dipped sugar.

Now I understand what all the fuss is about.

Sala Thai

266 Brunswick St, Fitzroy; 03 9417 4929

It was time to take the penguin out for a night. He doesn't get to socialise enough, his resentment at which was demonstrated this Saturday last by refusing to squeak no matter how kindly I squeezed his beak.


Now you really couldn't lay blame for anything on a creature as cute as my penguin bag, but it was a direct result of taking him out for the evening that there is no pictorial record of our dinner at Sala Thai. He's too wee to hold camera, purse and water bottle; and the ambient candle- and fairylight atmosphere at the restaurant prevented my mobile from stepping into the breach.

So instead, merely a brief commentary on the food. The vegetarian spring rolls had a satisfying crunch, but the pastry seemed to mainly enclose cabbage: not a lot of diversity of flavour. The sizeable portion of pad med mamuang (cashew stir fry) came ladled with a commendable soy and ginger sauce and a colourful array of crisp vegetables (beans, capsicum), as well as a bowl's worth of cashew nuts on top. The pad see ew was disappointing. The soy sauce was quite watery and the beef, which I'd chosen as I rarely stir fry with it at home, was particularly tough: should have stuck with chicken.

Earlier trips to Sala Thai had been more promising. I've enjoyed good tom yum soup and pad thai there. If you're looking for a cheap mid-week dinner in Fitzroy, however, they offer a good value special dish each night, Monday - Thursday. Vegetarian green curry, with rice, for $9 would be a bargain, and you can wash it down with a $4 glass of wine, or just $5.50 for a bottle of Asahi.

Cherry Lounge

359 Brunswick Street Fitzroy; 03 9416 0024

Quiet on this particular Friday night, Cherry Lounge is welcoming, with its conventional layout: a bench seat down one wall facing maroon leather chairs, a bar (with a considerable array of spirits) down the other, and a raised area with some larger tables at the back.

On being seated, we were presented immediately with the specials board. Tonight’s selection included Vitello Milano, Atlantic Salmon and Osso Bucco. I went for the Beetroot Gnocchi special – ricotta and chilli gnocchi served in a cheesy sauce ($18). SG was taken with the duck in a plum and aperol sauce with green beans ($25). Taking the menu description literally, SG also went for a side of wedges, which the quartered potatoes served with the duck made somewhat redundant, but more on them later.

The wine list offers reasonably priced wines by the glass, but mainly from small, interstate vineyards. I had a Warburn Estate Pinot Grigio from the Riverina.

So, to the food. SG enjoyed the duck, but I thought it was a little tough, and its dark purple colour indicated a little overcooked. It must be said though that the serving included both a breast and leg piece (though I would certainly have preferred one better-cooked piece). The aperol broth lent a lovely mix of citrus and stock flavours. For my dish, I was surprised that a ricotta gnocchi was served with a cheese sauce – I thought a light tomato sauce could have been kinder to the fairly delicate beetroot flavour. Having said that, the dish was not too heavy to be enjoyable. However, when something’s advertised with chilli, I want at the least to be able to feel some heat, even if I can’t taste it.

On the plus side food-wise were the wedges – they were outstanding. Quality potatoes, not just some leftover mangy bits, crispy coating, visible sea salt flakes and sour cream.

Each element of our dining experience at Cherry Lounge held surprise and/or disconcertion. First of all, the Polpette Insalata special was described as salmon fishcakes…does that strike everyone else as odd? The book-folded, laminated menu included a full page of their breakfast options, and the mains started out with a $15 chicken burger followed immediately by the duck. What are they trying to be – weekend café, foodie-bar or restaurant? During our meal we noticed that there was also a tapas menu on the wall, and near the bar there was also a completely separate by-the-bottle wine list. The restaurant is decorated with vintage Euro posters, giving it the chic bistro feel, but also has a permanent mannequin at the bar and crazy murals on the way to the toilets, making it feel more like a grunge café. Again, which crowd are they going for? The service was a little distant, given there were a handful of diners and four waitstaff, except for when my wine glass was (almost) empty, and three of the staff came over separately to offer a top-up.

Our overall impression was that the restaurant was well-priced for the quality it offers (I’ve never seen that much duck for $25), but that it’s trying to be too many things. It made us think of Gordon Ramsey and his kitchen makeovers –pick your niche and focus on it. Simultaneously it’s a bar, bistro, brunch café, retro and grunge. Maybe Friday dinner is in fact its sideline and if we’d gone at 11am on a Sunday we’d be raving about its vibe and scrambled eggs. But with that much competition in Brunswick Street, they’re unlikely to get repeat custom just to check if we missed something first time around.

Madame Sousou

231 Brunswick St, Fitzroy; 03 9417 0400

When I first walked into Madame Sousou, I was surprised at how small it was. It came with such recommendation, and hence expectation, that I’d built it up to a dimly lit, cavernous, gourmet restaurant filled with whispered conversation. Instead, the restaurant space is very French bistro – all the wall space is covered, either with decoupaged old-style advertising prints, or matted sketches. The striking iron chandeliers throw out a yellow light, giving a smoky, mysterious, expectant atmosphere. This was helped by the steady, but manageable flow of custom – from a group of six, to couples taking their time, to lone diners sufficing with an entrée and glass of wine – which encouraged everyone to just stick to their own pace. The black awnings outside, with a white relief of Madame herself, the soft yellow light inside and the comfortable bench seats make this an approachable restaurant, despite its higher-end menu.

There was a lot of tempting food to choose from on said menu. Undeniably French, with lighter starters showing a bias towards seafood, and heavily flavoured meat-based mains. Starters included an exceptional plate of calamari – very tender, smallish pieces deep fried in a light crispy batter, served with garlic aioli - quail with raisin sauce, or bouillabaisse. Most ranged from $16-20. For main I went with the Cassoulet de Canard – twice roasted duck served with haricot beans and pork sausage ($30). The duck meat was tender and covered by a wonderfully crispy filament of skin. The beans had taken on a lot of flavour from the pork, which itself was fairly mild. However the dish was let down a little by oversaltiness – whether from the beans or over-marinating the duck I wasn’t sure. The gnocchi with roasted pumpkin, pinenuts, sage and buffalo mozza ($25) sounded promising, but was a little disappointing with fairly bland, square-cut gnocchi, and a mere smattering of sage, where a bit more herbage could have really lifted the flavour. Overall the mains sounded quite heavy on paper, and while well cooked, the flavours hadn’t been handled as delicately as they could have been to make wonderful dishes.

There is an extensive bottled wine list, the majority coming from France, and with only around half a dozen in total by the glass. We enquired after one of the wine specials – a Craigs Hut 2004 Sangiovese ($36) and while our first waitress couldn’t assist, the ‘second barperson’ was able to give us some more information on origin, and importantly, a taste. The wine had a very clean nose, was slightly drier than some Sangioveses, but a wonderfully full mouth taste that allowed it to match different dishes.

The flow of diners show Madame Sousou is a popular place, and it perhaps provides a useful option in Brunswick St of an accessible European class restaurant. Its menu reads well, in terms of the flavour complements it describes for each dish (though it does help if you like meat and seafood). Some that we sampled, such as the calamari, really were standouts, whereas others could do with just slightly more attention to make this an exceptional dining experience.