The order of things; Hellenic Republic II

434 Lygon St, Brunswick East; 03 9381 1222

8.30. Tuesday night. A quiet time for many a restaurant, but at Hellenic Republic it may as well be Cup Day. Our dinner at Hellenic was long overdue, an unexpected move (within the suburb, thankfully) having thrown a few unlaid plans into confusion. Since its birth last December, Hellenic has not wanted for custom. We chose a Tuesday evening in an attempt to bolster our chances of getting in. The place was rammed, with plenty of fresh diners arriving after our 8.30 allocation. There's no surprise in this. George Calombaris is one of Melbourne's most vaunted chefs, and the opportunity to eat his creations in the burbs and in budget is pretty irresistible.

His restaurant is not without resistance, however. On the day we dined Epicure mentioned that nearby residents are applying to Moreland Council to re-zone parking in the area. With all these greekophiles flocking to the northern end of Lygon St, residents of Stewart St are suddenly having to circle the block to find somewhere to park. It's the precise problem experienced by residents of nearby Mitchell St, on the corner of which sits the unassuming shopfront of i Carusi. I have a very simple solution to both problems: equidistant from the two restaurants lies a McDonalds. Bulldoze it, lay the turf with any leftover burger meat, and bingo, there's a carpark.

To digress momentarily into municipal issues, the residents have a pertinent point. I'm thrilled to have Calombaris in the neighbourhood, but I ride and walk everywhere. If I wasn't a food fan, and never intended to visit Hellenic, it would be galling to suddenly lose a fundamental aspect of my home. Having grown up near an ever-expanding shopping centre in Newcastle, I've known for a long time that increased traffic flow rarely seems to stop council approval of projects that bring in as much dosh as cars.

Back to our visit. We successfully resisted the banquet (for which there are three options, and the cheapest, at $49, can seem tempting), all reports being that it's simply way too much food. Our ordering was not adventurous; we stuck with the dishes raved about on blogs and in newspaper articles all over the city: lamb from the spit, beetroot with yoghurt and cumin, kalamari, hand-cut chips and the famous kefalograviera, served with peppered figs.
Our dishes were a straightforward representation of Calombaris' commitment to the staples of Greek cuisine: the meats, the cooking styles and the flavourings. Let's talk about two other staples, bread and water, which, despite being fundamental to most dining experiences, are so often mishandled.

We had two breads at the table - we ordered pita bread off the menu ($3.50), and a basket of leavened bread arrived with the first two plates. I find that peculiar, when a diner orders bread they need to pay for and is then brought the house bread regardless. While the pita bread was particularly pliant and a perfect wrap for the lamb, I couldn't believe that it was the fifth item brought to the table, after the beetroot, saganaki, lamb and potatoes. You wouldn't expect a curry to arrive minutes before rice, and it's the same with bread. Particularly in a restaurant that follows the trend of having a 'bread station': just slice it, get it in the basket, and the waiter picks one up on the way through with the first round of cooked dishes. We also weren't offered any water, which to my mind should happen without the waitstaff even realising they're reaching for the (in this case cutely raffia-twined) bottle.

Minor points? Maybe. But Calombaris is clearly riding a huge word-of-mouth swing at the moment. I'm enthusiastic about the place, but it does take some canny consideration to come out with a well-priced dinner (ours, with two glasses of wine and an ouzo, was just under $100. We were very full, so I think we got it pretty right.) Others are far less so, and still regard this as jazzed-up Greek - every post, whether for or against, produces a range of comments protesting one way or the other. I remain a fan of Calombaris' cooking - one could eat well on the lamb and saganaki for a long time - but no matter who's behind the pans, nor what genre of dishes they're producing and what price lies against them on the menu, I'll always give credit to a restaurant that remembers the basics, and when we're talking food, you can't get much more basic than bread and water.

Hellenic Republic

434 Lygon St, Brunswick East; 03 9381 1222

It's open. After months of watching the site morph from a cakeshop; to building shell; to a roofed, walled space filled with light, tiles and little else; then in a mad rush this week gain chairs, tables, shelves, wine bottles, decorations, tills and all the accoutrements of the restaurant world, finally, finally, we have George Calombaris' new venture, Hellenic Republic.

Rather than the plush, darkened, reverential dinner environs of the Press Club, this is a space open on two sides to an abundance of light, offering lunch and dinner during the week with the addition of brunch on the weekends. This is the sort of place where one glass of wine is rarely enough.

Stepping inside does not quite equate to entering a portal to the Aegean coast, although if you answered to the name of Onassis and enjoyed cruising the Greek isles in boat shoes and linen trousers you'd complement the design well. Pine and marble alternate on the table tops; the chair seats are roped, as are the tops of the Mediterranean-blue water bottles (and tap water arrives immediately, although the bottled variety is also available). White tiles and white-painted brick are juxtaposed by judicious splashes of navy, for example on the banquette seats on the back wall. Navy squares also feature in the logo, subtly stamped on the crockery and waitstaff's police-officer-style uniforms. A communal, mosaiced table sits in the front window, next to a huge armoire jumbled with Greek produce and drawer after drawer of spices.

Enough of the interior...what about the food? A brunch selection is served 8am-4pm Saturday and Sunday, with lunch kicking in after 12pm. Dividing the two is a meze plate of beetroot in cumin, green peppers, kalimatas, marinated grilled octopus and fried greens ($18.50). Breakfast could be as refreshing as watermelon, almond and feta salad; or as hangover-shaking as the 'lamb ham sandwich', which comes on Dench ciabatta (the bread of choice throughout the menu), with just the former meat, cured to taste like the latter, and a fried egg.

The breakfast omelette looks to Spain, featuring slices of al dente potatoes, but returns to Hellas with chunks of loukaniko, a Cypriot pork sausage, embedded along with the spuds. Halloumi is melted in with the eggs for extra texture. Surprisingly, the dish is not overly salty, and while it wasn't mind-blowing during the eating, it was undoubtedly satisfying. It comes with two oiled slices of Dench sourdough (in this case strategically placed over a quadrant that got a little too close to the grill!).

Lunch offerings include moussaka, done according to Calombaris' yia yia's recipe; fish of the day, served with chips wrapped in a paper basket; and braised pork (most of which are also available on the dinner menu). And, of course, there is lamb. A glassed and walled area at the back of the restaurant houses the spit, where many a young ovine is destined to be expertly turned over the coals, producing pungent, sweet, tender meat.

The lunch souvlaki is a reprise of the Press Club dish from Taste of Melbourne. Slices of the succulent meat are wrapped in a crisped pita, which is also smeared with mustard and daubed with onion and parsley. Want chips with that? They're right there, wrapped in with the meat. At $14.50, and on the smaller side of huge, I say order two and have done with it, because you'll be sorry when it's finished.

Or, maybe you'd rather save room for something sweet. Dessert offers baklava, rice pudding and galaktaboureko, a dish similar to baklava, but with custard - in this case semolina - instead of nuts between pastry and drizzled with sugar syrup. We were verbally offered loukamades (Greek doughnuts drizzled with walnuts and honey), but when our waiter realised they were part of the dinner rather than lunch menu, SG's hopes were dashed and we settled on galaktaboureko between us. But it wasn't ready yet (ie it's made fresh daily), whereas the loukamades were! A win-win situation, and other than from a long wait for drinks, the only hiccup on Day 2 of the restaurant's existence.

The wine menu is succinct, but hugely respectful of Greek varietals, and is kept short to keep it to wines that fit the food. The dinner menu features a page of share plates - prawns by the piece, vine leaves etc - and two banquet options, alpha and beta ($50 and $60 respectively). An insert in the menu is a perfect demonstration of Calombaris' respect for his diners: the fishmonger arrives daily and they then decide and price the menu accordingly, printing it anew each day.

This is an exciting place to dine. Some of the staff from the Press Club have headed north to man the floor, and while the floor staff may not always be in such abundance as initially (there were at least 10) they're already comfortable with the menu and keep diners feeling the same way. It's definitely more approachable on a budget than the Press Club or its sister bar, and a midday weekend meal is a particularly good way to nibble affordably off the menu. It will be interesting to find out if that relaxed atmosphere is maintained for dinner - certainly the decor and lighting intend it to - something we'll ascertain as soon as we can get a seat!

The Press Club

72 Flinders St, Melbourne; 03 9677 9677

Listening to David Sedaris at the Melbourne Writers' Festival recently, I was taken with his statement that sometimes he feels like his life has become a story. At such times he resists the compunction to take out his notebook and notate what's happening, as he doesn't want to do anything to bring the situation to an end before its natural conclusion.

There's a tenuous link between that concept and my recent dining experience at The Press Club. Originally I was going to say that I took my inspiration from a recent post at AOF's Confessions, where she discusses the idea that by constantly thinking as a blogger - analysing and worrying over lighting conditions for photos - we diminish our ability to savour our eating experiences in the moment. I think Sedaris' notion was closer to my reasons for not photographing my food at The Press Club though: troubling myself with that usual aspect of my dining excursions didn't fit in with the way I wanted to experience this rare and treasured treat.

I am, nevertheless, compelled to record it here. I have read much about George Calombaris' skills and the awe in which many hold his treatment of Greek cuisine, and had experienced it in reduced form at The Press Club Bar. I hadn't quite understood what was meant by a lot of the language: Lethlean uses phrases like 'modern, yet reverent' and 'springboard' comes up a lot, but now, having taken on the full dining experience it's quite clear. The ingredients are classic, traditional – lamb, beetroot, honey, cheese, mushrooms – yet their treatment is revolutionary without being unapproachable, without making them unrecognisable.

With the quality on offer the menu is expansive without being so extensive that choice seems impossible. It divides into small and large dishes and while 'kerasma' is available - a chef's choice of dishes, with or without dessert and wine - we decide to control our intake; given our tastes and predilections the four dishes brought to our table almost order themselves.

Seared scallops souvlaki, Santorini caper leaf keftedes (meatballs) and cauliflower vinaigrette arrives skewered on its own sword. A salad of cumin-roasted beetroot, pistachio biscuit, yoghurt cheese and Attiki honey offers so many combinations (there's a picture on the restaurant's homepage): the nuttiness of the cake-like tower of biscuit, soft and spongey when you cut into it; the sour-savoury cheese wrapped in herbs; and the honey, undoubtedly sweet but in such a fundamental way that it doesn't so much taste sweet, as demonstrate sweetness. (You know you're in a good place when the food promotes musing on the metaphysical.)

At Melbourne's best Greek restaurant it would seem requisite to order the lamb: in this case a 'hot off the press' lamb spit with white bean skordalia, lemon potatoes and marouli salad (lettuce dressed with dill and vinaigrette). The lamb, as expected, is superb: tender, moreish, extraordinarily flavoured and textured. It would be hard to imagine a better fine dining experience. Unless, as was my blessed experience, you had ordered the duck.

The duck. Perhaps I should have written the post as just a reflection on this one dish. The menu description reads as: slow-cooked duck in olive oil, mushrooms, garlic, parsley and greek kafe and sokolata soil (a crunchy, crumbly mix of coffee and chocolate). There's a process to its consumption: as the soil is sprinkled onto the duck it begins to melt into it, at the same time breaking down the meat, which was already separating so willingly from the bone, even further. What takes place is so much more than a fusion to produce a new flavour combination. Instead the ingredients alchemise – creating an altogether new entity unlike any flavour made up of the component ingredients.

The Press Club has been hyped, praised and awarded. In this case it's deserved: this is extremely high quality, innovative, thoughtful food. After our experience at The Point, I will say that I find it surprising that restaurants at this level seem to assume diners want to stay the night - both meals lasted 3.5 hours - but the staff at The Press Club were so enthusiastic, genuine and knowledgeable that I almost felt compelled to forgive their interest in re-setting tables rather than bringing us dessert menus.

Alchemy and metaphysics. George Calombaris is an exciting man to have in the kitchen, and the anticipation over Hellenic Republic grows ever greater.

Natalia's Greek Cuisine

437 High St, Northcote; 03 9486 3110

Sitting within Natalia's blue-and-white interior feels a little like being underwater; it certainly doesn't sound like it though, as chatter from the predominantly Greek crowd competes with the live bouzouki music.

This is not a restaurant for vegetarians: the menu is divided in entrees (all seafood), appetisers (some of which are meat free), seafood and mains, all of which are meat based. While the $20+ price tag on most of the mains seemed a little high, it was offset somewhat by complimentary additions to the meal and the size of the portions (though surely it's preferable to have the option to be served less and pay less). A banquet is also available for $39 per head.

First to the table were two huge baskets of bread. It smelled wonderful and while it was a little too loafy to be an ideal meal accompaniment it's impressive to know that it's made on site. The bread came with our first appetiser, melinzanosalata (try getting that out correctly first time!), an earthy-green blend of eggplant, capsicum, garlic and olives. Alongside came a triangle of grilled saganaki, wonderfully firm and salty, with the centre just slightly melted.
A main serve of deep-fried calamari was ordered as a joint entree for four. The calamari had been properly cooked, retaining texture without being rubbery, and had just the right amount of batter. For $22, however, one might expect a few more rings, the bonus to the right of the plate notwithstanding - a scallop a la Natalia, served with worcestershire sauce, spring onion and bacon. Where the calamari had been so simply adorned, however, this dressing rather overwhelmed the mollusc.

And so to the meat. For the men, a meat platter for two; for the ladies, two plates of kleftiko: lamb and chicken cooked over charcoals.
Firstly, to the positives. All the types of meat had been cared for: lamb and chicken were decadently oily and as the diced pieces dissolved in the mouth they released loads of flavour. The potatoes that accompanied the meat were superb: laden with herbs, salt and oil and still soft and fluffy; a plate of potatoes plus the calamari would have made for a satisfying repast. The skewered meat on the meat platter was particularly enjoyable and there was certainly an ample quantity.

There were also some negatives, however. Both plates of kleftiko arrived not cold, but tepid at best. These were willingly replaced. The cutlets on the meat platter were a little dry, though with so much carnivorous material to choose from this was not a big issue. A massive bowl of Greek salad, at $6, represented excellent value for quantity. The quality wasn't quite so impressive, however, as it mainly featured lettuce and an acidic dressing, with a smattering of feta and the occasional olive.

Nevertheless, more positive was to come. Once the main dishes had been cleared, after all best efforts had been made to do justice to the portions, an unbidden, but very welcome, dessert arrived. Watermelon was the perfect antidote to all that carb and protein, but the sweet tooth was also sated, with the provision of gooey cigarillos of baklava.

The restaurant offers the welcome mix of being BYO, with no corkage, and licenced (and they stock Mythos beer, very handy for pretending one has escaped to the Mediterranean). The service was more comfortable amongst the Greek speakers, but it was attentive and friendly. Despite a couple of communication issues the staff strove to accommodate our requests (though the plan for a three-stage meal was scuppered with the concurrent arrival of calamari and meat), and while it was peculiar that spit roast meat could arrive at the table less than piping hot, they were sincere in rectifying the problem.

Stalactites

177-183 Lonsdale St, Melbourne; 03 9663 3316

When a restaurant's address covers four street numbers, you know you're dealing with an institution. And with interstate friends in town and a Comedy Festival show to catch, you know you can't go wrong settling in at Stalactites for a speedy serve of solid Greek food.

Stalactites has been around since the 70's. They are open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and provide an important service to Melbourne, in that they offer decent takeaway souvlaki ($9, now $10.50) anytime the craving hits. (The souvlaki is also available on the restaurant menu.)

The dine-in menu is long, but as the cuisine on offer is so iconic, we all found it easy to simply hunt out our Hellenic dish of choice.

Both the chaps at dinner went for the mixed grill. And frankly, why wouldn't you? $22 gets you more ovine and cattle on a plate than most sensible people could eat in a sitting: marinated lamb skewer, marinated giro, lamb chop, rissole and sausage. And just to be sure you supplement all that protein with both salt and vegetables, the grill comes with chips and Greek salad.

The Greek staple, moussaka, is expectedly dense.The eggplant is baked almost to the colour of the mince, and they both support a thick layer of potato, which has soaked up the bechamel sauce. To add even more weight, the dish comes with rice and baked vegetables. It's incredibly filling and full of the flavours endemic to Greek cooking.

Having had just such a craving earlier in the day, I looked no further on the menu than the kalamari. The dish is a mixture of squid and octopus, so tentacled pieces nestle amongst tender squid strips. The flesh is a bit hit and miss: some pieces soft and biteable, others tougher. Some bore slightly too close a resemblance to the live animal, and hence were used only for portraiture, and spared the eating! The accompanying Greek salad was nicely dressed, with two token olives and a small wodge of fetta. Masterfoods tartare sauce accompanied the fish: not my first choice of dressing.

We also had a bottle of retsina. My only other experience with Greek table wine was on the island of Paros, demolishing a very cherry-ish bottle of red on the beach in between taking an inordinate number of photos of the sunset. Many, many moons ago, the Greeks sealed their wine vessels with pine resin, and although barrels and glass bottles now adequately perform the task of keeping air out, the resin flavour is still added to the wine. It was a bit of a shock! The flavour improved (ie settled) somewhat after the wine had sat in the glass for a while.

The Comedy Festival show was Daniel Kitson, a very funny and intelligent man, who I heartily suggest you check out.

www.stalactites.com.au

The Press Club

72 Flinders St, CBD; 03 9677 9677

George Calombaris has had nothing but praise and accolades since opening The Press Club in 2006. The menu is modern Greek, taking traditional ingredients and flavours of his home country but serving them in an updated style that is unique, even in this most Hellenic of cities. Where innovation is the key word in the kitchen, flexibility takes charge on the menu and in the overall setup. The venue includes a restaurant, private function room and bar. In the restaurant, diners have the choice of a la carte, kerasma - a Greek style of sharing menu - or degustation. Before being faced with that range of options, however, there is also the choice to turn right rather than left after stepping into the foyer of the former Herald building, and instead select the smaller, cheaper Bar.

The bar menu is as user-friendly as the restaurant's is expansive. The 20 or so dishes are grouped as one of three types of mezedes (which are suggested as accompaniments to wine, beer or ouzo) larger dishes or glyka (desserts). A refined list of wines by the glass is included on the bar menu, although behind the counter an enormous range of beers, spirits, ouzo and wines (including several Greek varieties) awaits. We drank a crisp, appley Chapel Hill 'Il Vescovo' Pinot Grigio at $9 a glass.

Of the 11 larger dishes on offer, I think all three of us could happily have ordered any one. Tempting as it was to sample Calombaris' take on some Greek favourites, neither the open souvlaki of the day, nor the calamari got an invite to our table. We were determined, however, that the Greek 'Parma' should get a run.Tender thigh meat, in lightly-seasoned crumb, was topped with zucchini and eggplant. Kefalograviera cheese is melted on top, giving the dish a robust saltiness, which allowed the schnitzel to be more delicately flavoured than in a more pub-style parma. It comes with fresh lemon potato.

A salad of cucumber and braised lamb perches on a bed of (lightly) minted yoghurt.The lamb neck was charred on the outside but pink and moist inside. It is perhaps one of the more traditionally Greek dishes on the menu: the triumverate of Greek flavours enhanced simply through freshness, rather than added flair.

The dark horse of the night was the pumpkin and almond bougatsa, with Byzantine grape dressing.Bougatsa is normally a sweet dish of custard served in filo pastry. Here, the custard was replaced with mashed pumpkin in a bechamel sauce, dotted with slivers of almond and a smattering of fennel. A sprinkling of icing sugar nodded to the dish's more traditional incarnation.

The bar menu is an excellent way to introduce yourself to the fine dining of The Press Club, whether you're yet to sample the main restaurant because you're short on money, or time (it's currently booked out 2 weeks in advance, up to a month on weekends). It is a bar, however: a little crowded, with lots of suits sampling the multinational drinks menu and a plasma TV in one corner. Some exact calculations have been done to match the accessible dish prices with their size: they are not stingy, but the focus is very much on quality rather than quantity, which I think is a reasonable decision when it allows you to sample The Age's Chef of the Year for as little as $15 a dish.

www.thepressclub.com.au