Libertine

500 Victoria St, North Melbourne; (03) 9329 5228

Degustations really are gourmet at its best.

The first time I settled in for a degustation I couldn't wrap my tongue around the pronunciation. True, I was in Italy, and struggling to keep up with the emphases as I grappled with languages across Europe. We drank Montepulciano and Vernaccia di San Gimignano, appropriate as that was the very town we sat in. We snacked on sumptuous plates of meat while looking at this view:
Degustation experiences have been thin on the ground in my homeland, but I had the pleasure of one recently, on a weekend redolent with indulgence.

A close friend visiting from Sydney, who used to live in Melbourne, realised that there was no reason not to spend an entire weekend between bars, cafes and restaurants. An excellent notion of gourmet travel, to my mind. I happily signed up for the full tour, the highlight of which was an eight-course degustation, with wine, at North Melbourne's Libertine.

We lined up at 6:30 and rolled out, suitably stuffed but also wonderfully nourished, after 11. It doesn't get any better than sitting in a plush room - in this case at a table with wedge-shaped chairs that looked like pieces of pie nestled in a Trivial Pursuit token - and having kind, informative people bring you food and wine for four and a half hours.

We started with an amuse bouche of pumpkin and cauliflower soup. This simple taster stayed with me so that the following week I endeavoured to make it for dinner with the same velvety creaminess. I thought I was pretty generous with the dairy, but it wasn't a patch on this offering, which was as rich as it was petite.
The dishes proper started off-season, with a plate of slivered artichoke and courgette with chevre, toasted grains, quail egg and salsa verde. Great colours, with the vibrant greens of the veg and verde clashing against the brighter egg and cheese. The grains add both textural and colour contrast.

Wine: 2009 Fontenille blanc, Sem/Sav blanc (Bordeaux)

The next plate was matched the colours of the first nicely, but presented a different flavour spectrum. This time we have King George whiting with avocado mousse, almond, radish, lemon olive oil. Avocado is a smooth substance as it is, and moussed it was quite sublime. The thinnest of radish slivers added extra crunch (as did fish bones in one of the dozen pieces of whiting delivered to the table).

Wine: 2008 Labet Bourgogne blanc Vielles vignes, Chardonnay (Burgundy)

For many, fine French dining is synonymous with rich, decadent foods such as foie gras. I was at a table with several veterinary scientists, and we debated the merits of that cruel and indulgent dish. Our waiter informed us it was only on the menu as it was so close to Bastille Day - the chef doesn't cook it otherwise, but he was still using up the 14 July supply. It came in two forms - foie gras brulee and mousse - served with with olive dust and apricot smear. Highly enjoyable in the mouth, if not on the conscience.

Wine: 2007 Gunderloch Redstone Riesling (Rheinhessen, Germany)

After that indulgence it was time to cleanse, with this rather unusual shot of basil seeds

Happily more recognisable food was on its way: roasted duck breast and leg with persimmon Armagnac jus, peas and baby leeks (well, leek). This was my favourite dish of the evening. It looked great on the plate, with a scattering of Brussels sprout leaves. The jus was rich, the peas were sweet, and the meat was succulent.

Wine: 2007 Willm Pinot noir (Alsace, France)

More meat followed, this time Moondarra wagyu steak with pied et paquet, sauce bordelaise and potatoes. The rest of the diners had made a no-offal request at the start of the meal. Me, I'm pretty partial to the extra bits of animal, and through the pied et paquet the chef snuck some onto our plates. In the traditional Marseilles version, this is a packet of tripe and trotters. Ours came across as more of a dry sausage in uncooked casing. It did it for me, but not for most of the table :)

Wine: 2005 Château Lucas Cote de Castillon. Merlot/Cab Sav (Bordeaux)

And so we came to the end of the savoury side of things. That didn't mean we were at the end of the good stuff. Au contraire, on the way was this marvellously named, and marvellous tasting, cumquat and Cointreau souffle, with a simply delicious dessert wine to savour alongside.

Wine: 2007 Tendresse de Jurque, Gros/petit manseng (Jurancon, France)

A few apple jellies, madeleines and marshmallows later, we were on our way into a chilly night, deeply satisfied.
The whole meal, wine included, was $150. Without the wine its $95. Given what we could have spent on a three-course fine dining meal with a bottle of wine or several between six of us, I think this represented superb value dining.

Maze

Level 1, Crown Metropol, cnr Whiteman and Clarendon Streets
(03) 9292 8300

A bit of fine dining never goes astray. Well, actually it easily can - price can take the joy out of choosing; snooty staff can make things unnecessarily uncomfortable; substance can be subsumed into the restaurateur's idea of style.

Our recent lunch at Maze suffered from none of the above. It was almost we who went astray, as we wandered around the Southbank-facing Crown building for a while before hitting on the fact that Maze is in fact in Crown Metropol, the building behind it on Whiteman St. A tip to punters - the 'maze' logo might look easily solvable, but the location piccie on the website is the true puzzle!

Gordon Ramsay is not known as a shy man, and you wouldn't expect his restaurants to have dull interiors. Each member of his empire has a described 'ambience'; for Melbourne, it's stylish and inviting. And it is, although without quite escaping the fact that you're essentially in a hotel lobby. Enormous, curtained floor-to-ceiling windows allow in the sunlight that defines the ambience, and pick out the many tones in the carpet. The huge cane lampshades would reach the floor in most restaurants, but with Maze's elevated ceilings they swing high above, drawing the eye to a labrynthine wood sculpture interspersed with bird silhouettes.

Maze does an excellent value set lunch: from a list of 10 items (seven savoury, three dessert) you can pick any three for $38 or four for $49. They're known for their small serving sizes, but their food follows the maxim that top-quality, full-flavoured dishes are just as filling as those that spill over the sides.

Here's a sample of what came to the table:

While a dish of yellowfin tuna tartare looked skimpy, hiding in the middle of its ample bowl, this tete de cochon was presented as a more regular entree size. It's pig's head, boiled and boiled til the skin falls away and gelatinises into a wonderful goop, which is then set, crumbed and fried. More rillette than terrine, it was an excellent start. It's served on a wafer of watermelon, with yellow beetroot and crispy pig's ears. This is not a shy plate, neither in ingredients, combinations nor flavour.

This slow-cooked octopus bared its suckers proudly, and partnered wonderfully with a couple of morsels of super-dense, salty chorizo. Dotted around the plate were nasturtiums, along with tiny cubes of grilled capsicum.

These two pieces of John Dory came glazed with a sticky red wine sauce. The gyoza-looking item in the foreground is in fact a cashew concoction, while on the left are cubes of pumpkin on a pumpkin disc.

Cubes and discs were a common element to most plates. I felt almost Lilliputian, stabbing my weighty, outsized fine-dining fork at those tiny samples of produce.

This dessert pannacotta was a cleansing end to a robust meal. The pannacotta nestled under shaved coconut, with mango puree wedged between. A splodge of salty caramel on top was a bold contrast to the sweet and cool flavours underneath. On the side is an olive friand.

I must also mention the bread, pictured above - it's replenished throughout the meal, lest diners should experience a piece less than oven-warm. It's generously salted and served with a whipped seaweed butter. It's delicious, but a pat of the regular stuff would have been welcome alongside.

Lunch menus are an excellent way to test a restaurant before a bigger event, or as a way to experience somewhere you wouldn't otherwise shell out for. Maze nails it on the menu and price. What I'm waiting for is a restaurant to introduce the lunch wine menu. Most wines on offer cost more by the glass than the individual plates (each are available at $14). It's wonderful to have access to a cellar as copious and proudly displayed as Maze's, but if you've only set aside $40 it's tough to up that by a third to toast your meal.

Simone's of Bright

98 Gavan St, Bright; (03) 5755 2266

As a resident of inner Melbourne, I can never complain of lack of choice for exciting places to eat. I reserve some envy, however, for those further afield who may have fewer choices but have one outstanding local. Those who call Bright home not only have ready access to some of Victoria's finest scenery, but also one of its most applauded restaurants, Simone's.

Chef Patrizia Simone has worked the stove for over 20 years, and has been awarded the title of 'Legend of the MelbourneFood and Wine Festival'. The high country is known for its defiant Italian influences, and Simone's reclaims a little part of the country for her home region of Umbria.

Our whole trip to the high country was scheduled around dinner at Simone's, so I was pretty excited by the time we finished a tasting paddle at Bright Brewery and headed across the road to the humble brick cottage housing the restaurant. The welcome was pleasant, and each table holds beautiful crockery.
The menu offered all the promise I'd hoped for, and we started suitablly carnivorously with an antipasto of cured meats:Ours to enjoy were slices of wagyu bresaola, chestnut-fed pork salumi and proscuitto.

My main sang off the page - coniglio con erbe, patate e strozzapreti, and appeared appropriately enticing on the plate:The discs are of Yackandandah rabbit, infused with fennel and wrapped in porcetta, with a braised leg sharing the bed of potato puree.

It was a meal so expertly executed, that it wasn't until after I'd finished it that I realised how worthwhile it had been, and I confess to scoffing it down without taking the time to appreciate subtler flavours and the quality of ingredients.

The desserts at Simone's tip their hat to traditional Italian produce as much, if not more than, the mains.

Here we have budino con prugne e gelato: Flourless blood plum pudding with plum ice cream. Simply perfect for a chilly autumn night.

My dessert didn't quite top off the night as effectively, mainly due to personal taste and a slight disconnect between description and delivery.

Its Italian name is acqua minerale di sambuco, cioccolate bianca, fichi.Its translated description is honey-roasted figs, roasted pine-nut shortbread and ice cream, white chocolate coconut cappucino.

I wasn't expecting foam (OK, it says cappucino, but I was thinking more of frothed chocolate in a cup!). And, while I adore and could live off fig paste, the fruit itself isn't a texture that works for me. So, the fruit part of this dessert - while probably heaven to most fine diners - didn't offer much enjoyment, but that ice cream made up for it. Delicious.

Wining and dining: Gapsted and Gracebrook

Gapsted Wines: 3897 Great Alpine Rd, Gapsted (nr Myrtleford); 03 5751 1992
Gracebrook: 4446 Wangaratta-Whitfield Rd, King Valley; (03) 5729 3562

Wineries are blessed destinations. Grapes have the happy fortune to grow well in valleys made fertile by ancient rivers and soils, factors that tend to lend themselves to particularly picturesque landscapes. The soil that determines the terroir is usually also handy for raising other delectable crops, and where's there are crops, there's likely to be cattle, and hence smallgoods.

Fortunately, many a savvy winery owner has put all the factors together to offer passers-by a lot more than free samples of their vinous product. There are few better ways to dine than al fresco, overlooking the orderly rows of vines, with a choice of produce sourced from places you're likely to pass on your way to that evening's accommodation.

Even better if you can sneak in a tasting after you've ordered, to make the most informed choice of all as to what will accompany your meal.

Gapsted Wines, near Myrtleford, has to be one of the most pleasing examples of this combination of outlook, food and wine. Its vines roll down to the Murray to Mountains Rail Trail, and it would be a surly cyclist who wouldn't point their handlebars up the drive to see what's on offer.

What they'll find is a stunning view that takes in Gapsted's crop; rolling, livestock-dotted fields, and the impressive ruggedness of Mt Buffalo. The day we ensconced ourselves upon the deck was near perfect: unseasonably warm weather gave us sun to bask in while we took in the range of autumn colours on display.

Gapsted has one of the longest tasting lists I've ever seen. The vineyard operates as the Victorian Alps Winery, and sells almost half a dozen brands, including Gapsted, Tobacco Road and Coldstone. Their list of produced wines runs to two pages, and all are available to sample. Despite the breadth on offer, cellar door staff are knowledgable about the wines, and affable to boot. The wines are also available by the glass with lunch, with many of the entry-level brands for $5 a glass.

The menu is succinct, but a celebration of the surrounding area. Three local tasting platters are available, focusing on antipasto, cheese, a daily selection of dips, or trout three ways.

The first of these presents as an admirable array:Eggplant, sun-drieds, roast caps, zucchini, mushroom, a whole artichoke heart, salami, mortadella and the briefest sprinkling of some Milawa cheese, all served with bread and crostini.

Main dishes ran to the heartier end of the scale, such as this deliciously seared pork cutlet, served on a bed of ratatouille.Pick a sunny day, and settle in to sup wine - by the glass or sample - and nibble.

Earlier in the trip we'd passed through the King Valley, later than the usual lunch serving time, and hence with a limited number of places still plating up food. One of those places was Gracebook Vineyard, a couple of ks north of Whitfield. They keep the kitchen open throughout the afternoon and, again, offer a bucolic outlook and a range of well-priced bottles to sample.

Our food choices suited the mood perfectly. Firstly, a homemade gnocchi with mushroom sauce. The pliant gnocchi clung to the rich, but not overpowering sauce, touched with a hint of truffle. The rocket provided the perfect bite to foil the earthy flavours of potato and mushroom.

The perfectly roasted pumpkin salad hosted Milawa goats cheese from up the road and a ubiquitous use of local nut, in this case walnut. The dressing - presumably with a local oil - was divine.

Also recommended: Boyntons (or Feathertop Wines) near Porepunkah. In autumn, their cellar door affords a breathtaking view of many-hued trees, backlit by the hills. Visitors can dine a la carte, or select from their deli range and picnic on the lawn.

Range at Myrtleford

258 Great Alpine Rd, Myrtleford; 03 5752 2885

When you're hot, you're hot. When Michael Ryan opened Range at Myrtleford, the plaudits rolled in and the restaurant filled a fairly broad gap - geographically speaking - in fine dining in the northeast (Simone's at Bright notwithstanding). Range earned two hats and Country Restaurant of the Year in 2008 thanks to Ryan's 'regional contemporary' food.

Range was, and is, attached to Motel on Alpine, one of Myrtleford's more modern accommodation options. Ryan and the motel have parted ways, with Ryan taking his chef's tools - and a lot of Range's cred - to Beechworth to open Provenance. Sean Ford has picked up the tongs at Range. Like Ryan, Ford brings interstate experience and a long resume to the restaurant.

Locals seem sceptical about the change, using the past tense when describing the restaurant as good. I query that assessment for two reasons: 1) Myrtleford is a town un-awash with food not branded as 'bistro'; and 2) having eaten there Ford seems a dab hand at handling the local produce.

Where Range is difficult is in its kitout. Maybe it worked better when it was pumping every night with long-distance culinary fans. The night we were there, the carpeted room - more reminiscent of an art gallery than a dining room - housed but two other couples and two lone diners, most of whom were guests at the motel.

It's a small space, but one that was worked efficiently by a lone member of waitstaff. The menu undoubtedly focuses on regional produce, which is what you're after at an expensive regional restaurant.

Having said that about regional dishes, our starter was baby calamari, served with a white bean, olive and parsley salad, plus a 'spicy' coriander dressing that presented more like pesto.It wasn't picked for its local-ness, but rather the fact that it was something we could share! The squid was lightly charred and nicely pliant, and offered a good amount as a starter. The accompanying salad was suitably light and fresh.

Other more local entree options included Milawa quail with polenta, and fried zucchini flowers from Merriang.

That afternoon we'd driven down to Lake Buffalo, past a turnoff to the delightfully named Nug Nug. The village showed up on one of the main options: braised Nug Nug kid with local forest mushrooms, baby carrots and kipflers.Chef Ford slow cooks two cuts of meat - loin and flank. I'm used to goat on the bone in a curry, but this was quite different. The meat was juicily sinewy, melting like a three-hour lamb roast. The starchy veg nestled alongside the kid made it a wintry dish, sure, and it could have used something a bit lighter to mix it up - a spark of green or crunch on the plate (supplied, as it happened, by a side order of steamed beans with almonds).

SG went for a rather more exotically described main: greta saltbush lamb (Greta being a town about 50km west of Myrtleford), with eggplant caviar, white bean puree, parmesan crisps, fresh peas and rosti potato. Believe it or not, it was all there on the plate! The lamb was lovely - a generous serve of eight moist, pink slices, just crisped on the outside. The accompanying jus worked a treat with the house bread - an unbelievably aromatic bake served with creamed butter. The whole dish was perhaps a bit busy - the eggplant caviar (slow-cooked strips of the veg) probably an obvious element to forego.

Earlier in the night we'd seen the waitress take a shot of gin out to the kitchen, which led me to think that this was my kind of chef! The dessert menu revealed the reason, however: a savarin with gin and rhubarb syrup. My gin requirements had been quenched with a gin and tonic to start the evening, and I was keen to continue my indulgence in the region's autumnal affair with the nut, hence selecting the chestnut souffle with dark chocolate parfait.
I'm not a regular souffle eater, so can't rate this one against many others. It's innards crumbled satisfactorily, but it was also scaldingly hot. (Our dessert order had anteceded the departure of the penultimate guests by at least 20 minutes.) The parfait was excellent though - firmish on the outside and gooey inside, and made with the quality dark chocolate that you just know is good for you.

The parfait was drizzled with Beechworth honey, an establishment we'd visited that day. Their hometown store offers help-yourself samples of dozens of honeys, a worthwhile way to ascertain the different between a leatherwood and a messmate (our fave).

SG thought he was taking the more straightforward dessert option, with a simple order for the lemon meringue tart with vanilla anglaise. But here it was the execution that was more exotic.
The tart was deconstructed into biscuity rounds topped with a puckering lemon curd, flanking a somewhat charred rectangle of meringue. It luckily tasted less scorched than it looked! (But again, perhaps the chef was too keen to finish up the last service of the night?)

A particularly commendable aspect of dining at Range was their commitment to not only local food produce, but wine as well. Most of the wines available by the glass were from vineyards very close by, and more often than not for around $8. The menu also featured a dish of the month, with suggested local wines by the glass or bottle to go with it.

Both our wine selections introduced us to new vineyards to seek out: the 2008 Annapurna pinot gris, and a 2008 pinot noir from Bogong Estate (who exclusively produce pinots).

Glancing over Michael Ryan's menu at Provenance, I can see that Range may have lost some sexiness with his departure. Ford has continued the commitment to local produce, however, and he's handling it with aplomb.

Tea Rooms at Yarck

6585 Maroondah Hwy, Yarck; (03) 5773 4233

Pietro Porcu has crafted his own style of Sardinian food at Da Noi in South Yarra for over ten years. It's a style that truly celebrates the seasonal, cooking what's good there and then and eschewing the need for a rigid menu. It's more what you might expect in a hailed trattoria in an obscure Italian town; all it lacked was the isolation.

Since opening his second restaurant at Yarck (open on weekends only), Porcu has added that missing piece. Recreating the subsistence lifestyle of his childhood with his own farm near the speck-on-the-map town, Porcu has created a gorgeous outpost of authentic, field-to-plate eating.

As at Da Noi, guests are welcome to discuss their likes and dislikes with the waitstaff and have the chef prepare an impromptu meal accordingly. The chef's menu is $78, priced around four courses, although the final cost can be adjusted if you end up eating more or less. A group dining near us were overwhelmed when their main course arrived: an enormous, overflowing bowl of crab claws, beautifully presented with the terracotta shells contrasting the traditional blue, yellow and white pattern of the plate.

A brief blackboard menu of daily specials is also available: antipasti, two entrees, two primi, three secondi and a handful of desserts. The waitstaff were happy to talk through the menu in some detail: these are dedicated people on the floor, who understand Porcu's love of food and his ability to share something special with each diner.

We managed to get the best of both worlds, ordering two unmissable entrees, and one a la carte and one special main - more on that later.

Before ordering, the visit started with some fried and battered broccolini - impressively fresh after obviously just kissing the oil. Between ordering and receiving entrees, we nibbled on bread and some simple marinated capsicum.
SG's entree of rolletto di coniglio was equally tantalising to us both: rolled rabbit, stuffed with mince and speared with beans, served with a rich, syrupy drizzle of balsamic reduction. My entree was the crespelle: crepes with fontina, ham and broccoli, served straight from the oven. Broccoli can be a steamed disaster or, as in this case, it can be a sparky foil to richer companions such as the cured ham and gooey cheese.

For main, SG chose the cervo con polenta. Venison, like veal, is a meat I avoid, since it's so hard to vouch for the care and upbringing of the animal. In a restaurant like this, however, I feel differently. The venison was marinated overnight in a red wine sauce, and came to the table oozing over a polenta mush, studded with carrots so soft and sweet they tasted like poached pears.

My main is something it will take me a long time to forget. I had gone for the lasagnetta, but the waitress advised it was a bit similar to the crespelle and suggested a dish not on the menu: chestnut pasta, with a duck and orange ragu. The pasta noodles were astounding. They hardly dominated the dish, but the richer flavour and slightly grittier texture were so noticeable. And the ragu was just a dream, a wondrous blend of flavours that, while rich, demanded I make as much room as possible and just keep eating.

I was, not surprisingly, sated after those two courses, but SG ploughed on with a serve of pineapple sorbet, perfectly sweet and expertly creamed, topped with a couple of curves of candied fruit. I pushed the boat out with a serve of Mirto, a Sardinian myrtle liquor that is bang on for a mix of sweet and herby, but at $15 a glass not something I'll chuck back just anywhere.
But this was absolutely that kind of meal - where you revel in the food, the atmosphere of the place, the knowledge and skill of the chef and his staff, and the pure enjoyment of a well-prepared meal.


Also recommended near Yarck: Mansfield Traveller's Lodge. Mansfield is about 40 mins from Yarck and this motel offers fantastic value - big rooms at under $100, with tips for local places to visit, a communal kitchen and DVDs to borrow - and exceptional service (eg jump-starts and recommendations for mechanics when your car breaks down!)

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.