Backyard Pizza

Pizza oven
Happy New Year.

The great Australian side effect of Baby Boomers with too much time on their hands is the backyard pizza oven. I’m certainly not complaining. For all that grief that has been caused by Gen-X being locked out of the managerial class is now being repaid in hot, crusty pizza. Who else has the time to salvage bricks and construct or owns the property to put it on? Who else got so obsessed by Tuscany?

Leek and Blue Cheese Pizza

This is the caramelized leek and blue cheese pizza that I shamelessly stole from Y Carusi restaurant in Brunswick, Melbourne. If you’re short on leek, you can always bulk it up with caramelised onion but frankly anything sweet with blue cheese fits on pizza: cooked pumpkin, multitude stone fruits, pears, figs. I’m no purist.

In the background is sopressa, olives and Black And Gold-brand preshredded mozarella. Buffalo mozarella be damned.

Leek and Blue Cheese Pizza

Leek and blue cheese, coming fresh from the oven.

Sopressa, olives, supermarket mozarella

Sopressa pizza

The Spread

The full spread.

ACA goes after faux import beer

Guess what? Blogging can change the food system. A few months back I wrote about faux import beer: the beer that looks imported but is actually brewed locally or by some third party. Yesterday, in The Age:

The Australian Consumers Association is demanding clearer, more prominent labels on bottles of foreign beer made locally under licence, to show drinkers exactly what they are buying.

Beck’s, Heineken, Stella Artois, Kirin, Guinness, Kronenbourg and Carlsberg are some of the foreign brands being made here.

The Sunday Age bought a random selection from a liquor store in St Kilda last week. A 330 millilitre bottle of Heineken ($3.39) was brewed in Sydney and a 330 millilitre bottle of Carlsberg ($3.49), which had “Copenhagen, Denmark” and “by appointment to the Royal Danish Court” on the front, was brewed by Foster’s Australia in Victoria.

Now, lets argue about correlation equalling causality.

Future of Fish in the NYT

It’s taking me a while to catch up on my reading at the moment, but Mark Bittman’s overview of the decline of fish is worth a look. From Bittman:

Industrial aquaculture — sometimes called the blue revolution — is following the same pattern as land-based agriculture. Edible food is being used to grow animals rather than nourish people.

This is not to say that all aquaculture is bad. China alone accounts for an estimated 70 percent of the world’s aquaculture — where it is small in scale, focuses on herbivorous fish and is not only sustainable but environmentally sound. “Throughout Asia, there are hundreds of thousands of small farmers making a living by farming fish,” said Barry Costa-Pierce, professor of fisheries at University of Rhode Island.

But industrial fish farming is a different story. The industry spends an estimated $1 billion a year on veterinary products; degrades the land (shrimp farming destroys mangroves, for example, a key protector from typhoons); pollutes local waters (according to a recent report by the Worldwatch Institute, a salmon farm with 200,000 fish releases nutrients and fecal matter roughly equivalent to as many as 60,000 people); and imperils wild populations that come in contact with farmed salmon.

Originally, Last Appetite was going to be about the collapse of fish. Maybe I should revisit that when the fish stocks that have already collapsed hit 50%. Which is possibly now.

Food Pornographers against Internet Censorship

bananas
Bananas!

If you haven’t been following Australian news, the Australian Government is about to embark upon its attempt to censor the Internet (or at least, censor websites and not HTTPS, IPv6, encrypted data or the torrentz, which is where the depraved of Australia will flee to get their porny fix). For me, it is going to be a great time to be working in the “Internet industry” and have the rest of the industry elsewhere laughing at you.

To take a guess, the first websites to be banned as “false positives”, (where a site that the filter says is illegal, but is in fact, not) will be food websites. Who else turns charcuterie objects into a fetish or makes the same volume and diversity of dick jokes about vegetables? These are freedoms that are dear to the heart of many Australians and need defending.

If you’re keen to do something about it, the irrepressible GetUp is running a campaign.

Alternatively:

Call the Minister

Express you opprobrium in person. Call Senator Stephen Conroy, Minister for Broadband, Communications and the Digital Economy’s office on (03) 9650 1188 and have at them.

Write to the Minister.

A physical letter to the Minister clogs their inbox in a way that email cannot. Mail to:

Senator Stephen Conroy
Minister for Broadband, Communications and the Digital Economy
Level 4, 4 Treasury Place
Melbourne Vic 3002

Email the Minister

Pretty much a waste of time, but worth a try. Email Senator Conroy at: minister@dbcde.gov.au.

Red Emperor, Melbourne

Red Emperor, Melbourne
Har gau from Red Emperor, Melbourne

I always thought that only tourists ate on Southbank.

It’s the wrong side of the river for me; that strange cultural divide that bisects wherein both sides can say that the other is the morally and culturally wrong side. Since the Casino that dominates the south bank of the Yarra is now taking restaurants more seriously than ever, it is time to reevaluate my prejudices. Southgate, the slightly earlier development on the river still looks like a soulless, polished shopping mall but maybe the food within has changed.

Red Emperor, the Cantonese restaurant within the Southgate complex, is showing its age. The mirrored tiles on the roof, cheap vinyl seats and silver spray-painted concrete columns make the restaurant feel more like a suburban reception centre than one of Melbourne’s leading proponents of Cantonese food (and specifically, yum cha). The superlative view of Flinders Street Station and Melbourne’s skyline from across the Yarra remains unchanged; floor to ceiling windows lend ample distraction from the interior.

Yum cha means “drink tea” in Cantonese. Dim sum is what you eat at yum cha. Yum cha is what you do at Red Emperor. I’ve never ordered much more than a plate of stir-fried gai lan or an extra serve of fried squid from their menu. My guess is that if the gai lan is A$22 a plate, then the rest of their à la carte fare will require me to promise them my first-born in exchange for one of the lobsters crowding their tanks at the entrance.

Red Emperor Squid, Melbourne
Salty, fried squid tentacle.

I’ve never set foot in the place after dark. Lobster before noon is morally reprehensible.

As a midday meal, yum cha is more about the company that you keep than the food itself. It is built to be social: the most memorable yum cha meals should have very little to do with the food. Bamboo steamer baskets filled with mystery dumplings waft by on a trolley for your pleasure, you pick whichever takes your fancy, and then get back to the real task of constructing a conversation. Memorable dumplings help but are not essential.

At least since the last time I’d eaten at Red Emperor, the more interesting items that drift by on the trolley have vanished. The pickles, slices of 100-year old egg, and the cartilaginous steamed chicken’s feet have disappeared. I thought that Melbourne was well past gentrifying its , but in this case, I guess not.

The quality of dumplings – while still good – is only marginally better than you’d receive at one of the mid-range yum cha-focused joints around the CBD, like Westlake, Shark Fin House or Shark Fin Inn. Trekking out to the suburb of Box Hill is even better. At $40-ish a head, you’d get better value elsewhere and charging $8 for tea, normally gratis, is a bitter end to the meal.

Anyhow, on with the short depth of field dumpling porn.

Red Emperor, Melbourne
Har gau (North); Random seafood roll (East); “Shark’s Fin” dumpling, not containing actual shark’s fin (South); Siu Mai (West).

Red Emperor, Melbourne
Sin Chet Kuen: Beancurd skin rolls stuffed with prawn and shitake mushrooms.

Red Emperor, Melbourne
Char Siew Sou: Flaky pastry topped with sesame seeds, filled with sweet red roast pork. My friend J uses these salty-sweet pastries as his yardstick for a good dumpling joint, which makes sense. Both an excellent pastry and top roast pork are hard to achieve, not to mention plating them up to the punters steaming hot.

Red Emperor, Melbourne
Tentacle.

Location:
Level 3 Southgate,
Southbank, VIC 3006
Tel: (03) 9699-4170

Lunch: Mon – Sat 12 to 3pm, Sun 11 to 4pm
Dinner: 6pm onwards, daily

Spring blogging doldrums

Spring scared the hell out of me this year. It is so much more radiant and incredible after living in the tropics for a while. Trees aren’t supposed to change colour and regrow. In the tropics, most trees that look as if they are dead are in fact dead with invariable certainty. I’m blaming this existential botanical terror on my lack of updates of late. I have no good reason.

The pour

I’m eating great food and not telling anybody at all about it, just like regular people.

And I’m busy: over at SBS, I’ve been rolling out an article on “world food” per week on Wednesdays for the Mouthful blog and my very first article on Melbourne for Wall Street Journal Asia appears soonish.

Also: if you happen to be in Bangkok, be sure to check out food blogger Austin Bush’s exhibition, The Last Chinatown at Kathmandu Gallery, 87 Pan road (near Indian Temple off Silom road) Bangrak, near the Surasak or Chong Nonsi skytrain stations from 6 December. It’s the culmination of a year’s worth of him trawling the back streets of BKK’s Chinatown.

Charcuterie fetish object

Diecast Meat Slicer

At the Art Deco exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria I noticed a diecast meat slicer made by Hobart that looked as if it was developed for the charcuterie needs of 1950s astronauts. I immediately wondered if anything of the like was available in my price range. The answer is not even remotely.

But I did find the above on Ebay for $15.

Despite a nice patina of wear, the blade remains sharp. It slices through home-made bacon with ease. It shaves salami in thin, papery slices. It has a degree of difficulty that makes it a danger to use; a little like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time while holding a fistful of razor blades in one hand and a ham in the other. In other words, my idea of a perfect utensil.

Diecast Meat Slicer, clamp detail
Detail of the clamp. I like that the designers added an overhanging lip that secures the meat slicer to the edge of the table.

DSC_0865

I’d love to know any more details out there about this diecast meat slicer. Beneath the slicer the imprint reads:

Automatic Production Limited
Diecasters
Repetition & Manufacturing
Engineers

Brompton
Adelaide
SA

Registered Design No. 42073

There is no date, but I’d take a guess from the fonts used on the side of the slicer that it is from the 50s.