Kisume is not the boss of me

Kisume – there has been a lot of hype about this new restaurant, but I’m sorry to say you may be disappointed. OK, I am being a bit of a hater, but at least an honest one!

Kisume first came onto my radar when my manager (who is insistent he is not a foodie) asked me if I had tried it yet. The photos online looked really impressive, the restaurant decor looked classy and appealing and it looked like a place our older sister would really enjoy. Side bar: Unfortunately because Kisume does not take reservations other than for large groups, we weren’t able to take her there when she visited Melbourne recently.

I finally made it to Kisume one Tuesday night for a quick dinner with a couple of girlfriends to catch up and to celebrate one of my girlfriend’s recent engagement (how exciting!) We ordered:

  • Edamame, chargrilled, sea salt, shiso flower with garlic oil
  • Miso Lime Wagyu Beef tartare with shiso and quail egg
  • Assorted sashimi
  • Crab dumplings topped with quail egg
  • Miso salmon with pickled burdock root

The best dish was honestly the Edamame. It was salty and had that earthy charred taste. The wagyu beef was nice, but three spoonfuls and it was gone. The assorted sashimi was standard – not the freshest I’ve tried by a long shot. The crab dumplings were extremely overpriced (like $25 for 4 dumplings?!) and truly not a big deal on the palate. The quail egg yolk was showy and unnecessary. The miso salmon was very disappointing – the miso taste was non-existent, the salmon was dry and the burdock root didn’t add anything to the dish.

Perhaps we ordered the wrong dishes. But I left hungry, with a large hole in my pocket and very unsatisfied. Good ambiance. But I would not go back unless someone else in my trust circle makes a good case for Kisume…or unless someone else is paying.

It pains me to post mouthwatering photos of the food below. Indeed, we do eat with our eyes and our mouth. But don’t let the gorgeous photos fool you! I stand by my post above.


My kind of French

French food not your thing? Not really mine either. When I think French food, I think rich food in exasperatingly small portions. I think of Croissants so flaky you loose half the pastry to flakes, soggy crepes, sickeningly rich cheese fondue, gamey duck confit, utterly inhumane foie gras and …certain rude Parisians I encountered in my adult life.

Yes I am exaggerating a little, but…not really. French food is definitely low on my type of cuisine list. But it was a Friday night and I had been dreaming of sipping on the wine/magaritas at Los Hermanos ever since my close friend suggested going there the day before. Unsurprisingly, it was a 50 minute wait. I know right! Isn’t there something inherently hypocritical about long waiting lines at hipster places like that?

Anyway, we weren’t prepared to wait 50 minutes and this hummingbird was looking for some honey suckle. My friend suggested the Small French Bar, a cute little French place tucked away in Footscray which she has always wanted to try and was guaranteed to serve a good red.

We arrived at about 815 and the place was still buzzin. We put on our best puppy dog look and asked if they had a table for two. To our relief, they sent us to the bar and said they would have a table cleared in a couple of minutes. The (not too shabby lookin) wait staff promptly served us a couple of glasses of grenache (well actually one and a half glasses since my friend was the designated driver) which really hit the spot and two sips in we were seated at the bar.

The bar in our opinion, was the best seat in the house! We had a good view of the quaint little casual dining area which was refreshingly not white-table-cloth-stuffy, and the open kitchen, which impressively didn’t consist of much other than a good oven, a very powerful blow torch (for the Creme Brulee) and a fantastically boisterous head chef (who is both full of life and full in figure).

We ordered the Charcuterie and Fromage (Mixte), a board of cured meats, cheese, duck liver pate, gerkins, crackers and warm bread on the side. Though not usually fans of duck liver pate, we both dipped into that earthy perfectly chilled, silky smooth pate like no tomorrow and the wait staff were right there to meet our bread bowl needs (i.e. refilling). Also, though not particularly a fan of cheese, I did really enjoy one of the hard cheeses, and my dear friend took care off the rest. The portions were very generous – good value for a Mixte board and I would highly recommend it.

Our mains slid across the bar counter just as we finished the Mixte board and when I had finished my first glass of red. I had ordered the Tartare (Raw beef, lemon juice, pickles, spices, raw egg yolk and salad) and my friend ordered the Fillet Roossignol (eye fillet, duck liver parfait, roasted potatoes, salad). The dishes looked like homey, no frills, country style French cooking – definitely food I could get on board with. I had watched the head chef lovingly prepare my steak tartare just minutes ago, skillfully chopping the meat up by hand and sprinkling a generous amount of pickle pieces over the dish. He really brought out the cannibal in me and as I broke the yolk, I thought to myself the dish couldn’t get any fresher, and it tasted so – Fresh, textured, with the right amount of spice and acidity. Definitely one of the best steak tartares I’ve had, including the ones I had in France. I looked over at my friend’s plate and it had been polished off, even the duck liver pate which she initially wanted my help with. Second glass down.

The Fondant Au Chocolat had been teasing my friend over the course of the night. From what we could tell, many had been ordered, served and enjoyed and despite how full we were, we weren’t about to miss out. We both let out simultaneous ‘Mmmmmm’s the first spoonful in and licked our spoons clean before going in for another bite. Not a typical molten cake (which has a delicate thin casing and a runny lava centre), the cake gave sufficient resistance but still gave a generous chocolate sauce. Not overly dark or sweet, just good quality chocolate done right. My only criticism would be that although I know it is well accepted technique to refrigerate the batter in the ramekins for a few hours before baking, the center of the chocolate cake was still a little cold when served to us.

We had barely broken into the Fondant Au Chocolat when the head chef, with a straight face (in true French humor) told us they had accidentally made one Creme Brulee too many and pleaded for us to help solve his predicament. We could have played along a bit better but we couldn’t put on a hesitant expression and hide our enthusiasm – it just looked too good! And it turned out to be one of the creamiest Creme Brulees I’ve ever had. Again, not too sweet and without even a hint of gelatin. Trust me, when my friend delves enthusiastically into a dessert, you know it’s good since she doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth.

We ended the night with me taking one for the team and finishing off the final piece of the puzzle (the last half glass of wine). We rolled all the way home in blissful contentment, ready for a great weekend ahead!

Would definitely go back. A must try if you like no frills country French food.



Dogs and brunch

This is a tribute to amazing dog shelters around Victoria…to name a few:

…and about brunch.

Today is Sunday, the last day of the Grand Final long weekend and I put pen to paper (or rather fingers to keyboard) with the slight chance that a literary outlet lifts my spirits…

The long weekend started on Friday. Fran and I woke up early to visit The Lost Dogs’ Home in North Melbourne in hopes that we would find a furry friend to call our beloved. We had been dying to get a dog for the longest time. Fran finally blurted out on Wednesday that she was a hair away from getting a dog, and I immediately jumped on that bandwagon, ready for a new chapter in my life and for someone to shower with love. We arrived mid morning, with Fran eager eyed and me clutching my intertwined fingers and palms against my chest to contain my swelling affection and excitement. The staff there were gentle and knowledgeable and clearly took good care of the dogs, which made it bearable to see the canines enclosed in their cages. There were alot of ‘awwww’s and ‘what a cutie!!!’ but to our dismay most of the dogs were active dogs thus unsuitable for apartment living and those that were smaller or less active had anxiety issues. 

Afterwards, we found ourselves at Fandango, one of my brunch favourites. Mat ordered my Fandango favourite, the Curried Eggs which are fried eggs, Indian spiced chickpeas, brinjal pickle, minty yogurt labne and warm roti .The curried eggs were as good as I remember, the ultimate comfort brunch dish. Fran convinced me to order one of the specials, the Raspberry and Ricotta Croissant French Toast with ice cream. The dish was delicious with interesting textures and wasn’t overwhelmingly rich either. Re-engerised by the food fuel, we discussed next steps. We would visit Lort Smith as well as RSPCA the next day. 

On Grand Final day (Saturday) we drove past Tigerland (go Tigers!) and stopped in Malvern for a quick bite at St James Cafe (a place on Fran’s must-try list). It was pretty sleepy, I imagine because most were planted eagerly in front of their telly. Although the cafe seemed worlds apart from the roars of the Tiger fans, if you listened closely you could hear the cafe patrons talking about the match that was set to start in a few hours, and the cafe even had a Grand Final dish, the tiger pancakes which were stripped peanut butter and chocolate pancakes! Fran ordered the Soba Noodle Salad with asian slaw and a spicy hoisin sauce. The noodles were a little over cooked, but the sauce accompanied the poached chicken and vegetables well – a refreshing and filling dish. I couldn’t resist ordering the Chilli Scrambled Eggs which were served with house cured ocean trout, sambal, crispy shallots, fresh coriander and lime. The scrambled eggs were perfectly creamy and runny, the cured ocean trout was silky soft. The sambal was the alpha dog of the dish – it was freshly pounded, knock-your-socks off spicy Sambal oelek (rather than Sambal Balachan). I desperately squeezed the fresh lime over the dish to neutralise the burn between mouthfuls (yes, my fork kept going back for more!)

A skip and a hop and a Chai Latte later, we arrived at RSPCA. What an institution! The building was so modern we felt like we were walking into a science centre. The pooches there also looked well looked after. The heelers, staffies and grey hounds were as gorgeous as the last. Two dogs, Tui, an 11 year old small Keplie cross, and a large, gentle eyed border collie called Magpie caught our eye. But Tui, despite her age, was still energetic with the Kelpie blood coursing through her veins, and Magpie required a backyard to stretch her majestic long legs. 

Lort Smith, a much smaller shelter, only had three dogs up for adoption, none of which would be suited for apartment living. In a quiet voice, I asked Fran whether we should go back to A Dogs’ Home to have another look. She agreed since we could make it there before they closed for the day. To our amazement and delight, most of the dogs (about three quarters) had been adopted!! Definitely a proud, proud Melbourne moment (dog lovers unite!). The two dogs we were interested in the day before however, were still in their cages, with longing and hopeful eyes. Piggle, a mini fox terrier cross, as excitable and cute as he was, would be a little too energetic for us to handle. I returned to Ziggy, the labrador cross that took my heart the moment I read about him right at the start of our search, was sitting quietly on his bed. He came to us when Fran called out his name, wagging his tail, and melted our heart with his beautiful soul and brown eyes. We stroked and patted his silky shiny blank coat, played paw and rubbed his belly. In that half an hour the world fell away and even the metal grill couldn’t stand in our way. We looked into each others eyes and I felt like Ziggy knew how much I already loved him. We discussed his anxiety issues again with the staff there, who worried he would not deal with an apartment building of dogs and encountering dogs at the park and on the street in our neighbourhood. Torn between selfishness (wanting to love Ziggy) and wanting to provide the best for Ziggy, we decided to sleep on the decision. 

Day light savings hit us the next day, and at noon, we awoke, realising it might be too late to visit Ziggy. The only thing that held me back from grabbing the car keys and rushing down to see Ziggy was Fran’s plea to give Ziggy a chance to find another family that might be a better fit for him. She insisted we persevere and visit the dog shelter in Glen Iris rather than pining after Ziggy. I reluctantly agreed. We headed to Glover’s Station for sustenance with Mat (the voice of reason) in tow. Mat concluded that Ziggy could be difficult and was a risk, but I exclaimed that there could be a big reward if Ziggy really takes to us – Against everything I learned from Caesar Millian (who consistently preaches that a strong, calm pack leader is required to calm an anxious dog), the romantic in me hoped that our love would be enough to moderate Ziggy’s anxiety and that my lack of pack leader characteristics would not cause Ziggy to regress.

As if the Gods felt our tortured hearts, we were seated next to the most well manner maltese ever. We stroke and patted the little bundle of fur, our love for dogs welling over and our motivation to find a four legged friend of our own refreshed slightly. Mat ordered The Benedict, a dish consisting of ham hock, poached eggs, pork scratching tomato and chorizo fondue and smoked paprika. In Mat’s words, one of the best eggs benedicts ever and it only cost 18 dollars. It was inhaled within a couple of minutes. Fran ordered the Poached Ocean Trout, picked fennel, avocado puree and poached egg. It was quite a deja vu moment as both Mat and Fran had ordered exactly the same dish the last time we were at Glovers Station (although it took Fran scrolling through her instagram photos to admit to this). I on the other hand ordered the French toast instead of the house baked beans (fyi it was above average, but the corn bread was definitely off). The French Toast was made with sourdough fruit bread, a unique choice of bread indeed instead of the usual french brioche, served with berry compote and vanilla yogurt. Unfortunately I am not a fan of sourdough fruit bread, but Mat and Fran happily polished off the rest of the dish while I eyed some of the lusciously bearded waiters. 

Mat split to go to work while we headed to Save the Dog. Save the Dog is located right next to the City of Stonnington’s waste transfer station (I had been to the waste station once before to help a particuar vegan and environmentalist friend recycle some of her items). Save the Dog felt alot more like a pound, but again, we were relieved to see the staff were loving and kind just like the staff at the other shelters we had visited that weekend. There were so many dogs that were looking for a home,and our hearts went out to them. We saw a couple of staffies, which we were told were high energy (no surprise). And a couple of other smaller dogs, but again we were told none suitable for apartment living. 

I sit here emotionally drained, yes. But we are not giving up. We are continuing our search online and with Ziggy still in our hearts.