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Jackie is not sure. Technically the meal was witty and brilliantly executed. But she’s spent the past week working out what it was about Interlude (211 Brunswick St, Fitzroy, Vic +61 3 9415 7300) that troubled her.
She couldn’t fault the service. And I mean that. We were greeted like regulars and the table was swept for crumbs at all the appropriate moments.
I mean can’t fault apart from advertising 2000 Hewitson L’Oizeau McLaren Vale at $72 but delivering an inferior (according to my mate Ben) 2001 at the same price.
Interlude’s creator chef Robin Wickens is an ambitious chap. He’s one of the big new restaurant talents in Melbourne. Everything been put into his business and when I met his pregnant wife Veda, last year, she didn’t have a car. Wickens won the Gourmet Traveller award for best new talent last year.
You could tell he’d made it when he copped a high profile kicking (and some more) in the local broadsheet newspaper for copying dishes from Alinea in Chicago and WD50 in New York without credit.
The good thing about the room was that the crowd was young and the vibe – and I hope to tell you about my grab-a-granny lunches soon – hip.
We kick-off our “introduction” prix fixe $90 with salt and vinegar crisps. Sorry, plain crisps dipped into a witty salt and vinegar froth. My bouche was amused. The Carrot, Cardamon, Orange Rind, I suppose the amuse-guele, was well flavoured but in texture was less of a tease.
No I didn’t take this picture of the Hahndorf Venison, Yams, Roasted Quinoa, but was wearing THAT shirt.
Technically everything else that followed was excellent. I have no idea why sunflower seeds were at the bottom of my Spring Garlic and Parsley Cream (similar to an ajo Blanco – chilled almond Soup – but smoother in texture) but the verdict was that it worked.
The Hahndorf Venison, Yams, Roasted Quinoa sounds fairly normal but was nearly as hilarious as my shirt. And I did ask myself whether what looks like a pink tongue was a secret message from the kitchen as I was being too irreverent. Sorry.
Here comes the Orange, Yoghurt Soup, Oregano Ice Cream. And finally the elegantly sculpted Rhubarb, Black Pepper Cheesecake, Sarsparilla (sic).
Rhubarb, black pepper cheesecake, sarsaparilla
Jackie is still not sure. I try and make some witty similes. Was it because it was like the perfectly engineered Honda to the Alfa Romeo (with hand stitched leatherwork) that I really lusted over? Or were the jokes a little too in. Was it a bit like the theatre where half the audience titter while the other lot wonder what the joke is.
No, she finally hit on it. The restaurant was full or F–dies.
Food fascist
1. Update the wine list, please.
2. Learn to spell Sarsaparilla.
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Well, I assume he knows the audience that he’s catering for if that’s the case?
The food arrangement looks quite interesting - I was hypnotised by that first dish, it looks like an abstract painting.
Ellie, you are right that he does know his audience. But I’m not allowed to be a f–die by she who must be obeyed. All the dishes were brilliant abstractions in design. i’d like to go back and try the full degustation menu but Jackie and most of my friends refuse to eat degustation.