Life with Bees

This weekend we accidentally went to dinner at the E.U. Cafe. We planned to go out to dinner with Al and Simex and try a new restaurant. Our first pick, the Austrian restaurant Vienna, had closed since we added it to our list of places to try. And I only found out after listening three times to their garbled answering machine while trying to make a booking (“... and finally, please note Vienna restaurant has been closed for two months”). Our second choice, Ethiopian comfort food specialists Fekerte's, was closed for renovations all week. And the third choice, Iori, had already been visited by Al and Simex. So I randomly booked at E.U. Cafe, which has a very solid rep for good pan-European food but which I didn't think the guys would really be interested in.

And it was a corker! TK's interest was piqued while we were still walking toward the restaurant, when he spotted their outdoor sign with “Waffle Wednesday” printed on it. Inside was a tapas list so appealing the guys couldn't decide which to order. “Stuff the mains, let's just get everything on the tapas menu,” TK eventually announced. So we (mostly) did.

Plate after plate filled our cramped little table. Golden arancini with prawn risotto and corn salsa ($10). A dish of sauteed mushrooms with garlic and chili ($8). Tarts of caramelised onion on puff pastry with anchovies ($8). Seared prawns with sweet smoky chorizo ($10). Melting squares of unctuous pork belly ($8). Hungarian-style meatballs with tomato and a dab of sour cream ($8). Piles of chillied tiny calamari rings with toasted bread crumbs and pine nuts ($9). And a bowl of shoestring fries with garlic aioli so moreish that TK's quick visit to the facilities became a tactical error (Al and Simex left him exactly one chip.)

I was hungry and didn't want all the tapas so I ordered a small plate of Venetian spaghetti ($16), with fennel, shreds of crab, scallops and mushrooms tossed in olive oil. It was light and tasty and there was enough to share with Simex.

Desserts were beautiful despite a disappointing chocolate and espresso parfait ($12). TK had a slice of immensely satisfying Oscar torte ($7), a dark chocolate and hazelnut cake. But all the competition was for Al and my shared mascarpone and vanilla panna cotta with champagne strawberries ($12). The panna cotta was jellied and creamy, speckled through with vanilla bean. The only odd note was a triangle of decorative puff pastry, but Al appeared not to care.

With seven tapas dishes, a small main, and four desserts, the bill came to $146 for the four of us, or about $36 each. Pretty reasonable for such a good feed, and you'll eat a lot worse in Canberra for twice the price. We plan to be back for their popular, hearty-sounding brunches – and Waffle Wednesday.

E.U. Cafe, Griffith Shops.
Food: 4/5
Service: 3/5
Value for Money: 5/5

We were in Sydney this weekend for a concert - and you can't go to Sydney without eating out. Sunday afternoon we spent at the Lindt Chocolate Cafe, having deep dark hot chocolate and opulent cakes at a table looking out over Darling Harbour. TK had a Lindt waffle, a perfect little creature with a scoop of rich vanilla and a pot of melted chocolate on the side. If you look closely you can see him in the glossy reflection of the chocolate. Luckily we'd managed to miss the lurid red dust storm or this photo might have been less appetising.

We also went to our favourite Brazilian churrasco, Braza, and ate some of the most tender, caramelised barbeque you'll get at a restaurant. They bring it round on swords and carve it for you at the table and there's no limit on how much you can have. We had four guys in the party - so lunch took a leisurely three hours. One of our friends, who hadn't eaten red meat for months beforehand due to a blood condition, established his manly credentials by relentlessly eating everything in sight for the entire meal.

I survived the three hours by cannily eating only one piece of everything and avoiding the various cuts of lamb and beef altogether. But it was an endless caravan of meat and it was all good. Highlights included pork ribs that were caramelised and pleasingly charred all round but slid tenderly off the bone; crisp bright orange prawns; and firm chicken hearts cooked over an open flame. Worth the drive to Sydney alone.

I'm trying to read books for pleasure again. Lately I've realised that I've been reading books so I can interview their authors, or get up to speed with politics, and it's feeling a little too much like work. But in the last few weeks I've set aside time to read a couple of slim volumes on food. To make sure it's all about pleasure, the books suit different moods. Alan Davidson's The Pleasures of English Food is a mini Penguin paperback, part of a new series of reissued classic extracts and essays. (I've also bought Vita Sackville-West's musings on gardens for a dear friend.) A former diplomat, Davidson writes lucidly, cleanly about Bramley apples and teacakes and toad in the hole. Mrs Beeton and Stilton and stargazey puddings. Exploring the ancestry of each familiar, unexciting dish and the ways we consume it, Davidson conjures up nursery comforts and the cool landscapes of country England. It's all very colonial and quietly authoritative.

In a completely different tone is Michelle Maisto's The Gastronomy of Marriage, which chronicles the effects of food on Maisto's relationship with her fiancee in modern day Brooklyn. The scenery is deeply American – makeshift kitchens in college dorm rooms, trips to the markets of Chinatown on the subway, Maisto and her fiancee arguing over soba noodles in their tiny New York apartment. Davidson slips easily into my work bag and is perfect for dipping into for five minutes as I scarf down leftovers in the lunch room (it's been barbecued baby octopus and stir fried vegetables all week). He's like a pack of good cigarettes, quickly consumed but deeply savoured. Maisto is a little more work, takes a little more concentration – I find some of the writing just a tiny bit twee. But some of her dilemmas ring true: what to do when you and your partner have different tastes but both love food? What power structures do you have to negotiate when one person does the cooking and the other the washing? (A seemingly trivial division which can rapidly turn into the emotional faultline of a relationship, cutting deep to the bubbling lava of resentment - oh believe me!) Each book suits a certain frame of mind, a certain landscape. Reading them in tandem as I am, dipping into one and taking up with the other as the mood strikes, they make for an unorthodox and satisfying combination - like buttermilk chicken and waffles. Or cucumber sandwiches with a dot of Louisiana hot sauce.

Simex has friends coming to Canberra. I haven't posted to the blog in a while. So here's a list of suggestions for places to eat as you take a visiting friend around the capital. Most of the places are picturesque, slightly glam (by Canberra standards) or in lovely surroundings such as the national institutions. Those that aren't have been chosen for passably pleasant food. Making the list is good practice for when friends come to visit from interstate or abroad. Yes, there are too many places to eat than most people will have time for. But hopefully there are enough options to work with any Canberra itinerary, so no matter what you do you'll find a nice place to eat alongside it.


In the Parliamentary Triangle
- Friday night drinks at the meat market (OPH courtyard)
- Brunch and shopping at Old Bus Depot Markets and then Kingston Glassworks
- Coffee on the outdoor terrace at Bookplate Cafe in National Library
- Sculpture Garden and Regard cafe or restaurant at the NGA
- Parly and Manuka – cafes on the Lawns, Verve, Pangaea or Ginseng
- Drinks at the Belgian Beer Cafe, Realm or Press Club (the Chair Sniffer cocktail)
- Lennox Gardens and long elegant high tea at the Hyatt
- The Oaks Brasserie at Yarralumla nursery if you like trees
- Views from Onred, Red Hill
- Feel smug at Silo Bakery, Kingston
- The Brodburger van at Bowen Park, on the lakeside


City
- Floriade, including High Tea at the Lotus Lounge and don't forget NightFest
- Ice cream martinis and desserts at Koko Black
- Tapas and drinks at Parlour Wine Room, New Acton and more drinks at Wig and Pen
- National Museum and coffee on the terrace at Axis
- Lunch at Alto, Black Mountain Tower, or cheaper view and food at Mt Ainslie cafe


The Poachers Way
- Smokehouse Cafe at Poachers Pantry and Germanic goodness at Country Guesthouse Schonegg, Murrumbateman
- All the wineries: Clonakilla, Shaw, Lambert, Wily Trout (at Poachers Pantry), Helm, Dionysus
- And the randomness of Gold Creek on the way out to Hall/Murrumbateman
- Murrumbateman Moving Feast in October long weekend.


Outside Canberra: Bungendore and Goulburn
- Beer at the Carrington Inn, Bungendore
- French food at Le Tres Bon, Bungendore
- Lark Hill, Bungendore's biodynamic winery
- Cute at the Roses Cafe or greasy spoon at the Paragon Diner, Goulburn
- Mulled wine and coffee at Lerida Estate, Lake George


The Southern Highlands
- Lunch at the faux colonial Elephant Boy Cafe, Bowral
- High tea and wine tasting at Centennial Vineyards, Bowral
- Super posh dinner at Horderns, Milton Park Hotel, Bowral
- Or more posh dinner at Katers, Peppers Manor House, Sutton Forest
- The giant barn at Berkelouw Books, Berrima
- Walk: Fitzroy, Carrington, Belmore Falls

We've recently been ferreting through our cookbooks for good winter recipes, rediscovering old favourites and trying out new pieces. TK uses his cookbooks as a database, hunting down meals systematically through the pages. He tests recipes, compares them, adds, subtracts and combines bits of each recipes. I just like the food porn, and the way people write about their food. So here are some of TK's favourites and some of mine.

"Flexitarianism'' is apparently the new way forward for veggie lovers, the Sydney Morning Herald reports. Australians are taking different approaches to vegetarianism, including not counting fish and chicken as meat. Karen Fornito hates meat, which tastes ''like blood'' to her, and won't usually eat it unless it's disguised in a pizza or a spag bol. But she will eat fish and chicken if it's well cooked and doesn't call herself a vegetarian to avoid confusing her friends. Meanwhile Americans are preparing fewer meat meals, even though they're cooking at home more to save money in the credit crunch. These ''recession flexitarians" are semi-vegos who occasionally indulge in meat and you can join their ranks by cutting meat from your menu every couple of days. Gourmet.com recommends measures such as adopting a "meatless Monday" ala Paul McCartney or a "vegan-before-dinnertime" diet, where breakfast and lunch are meat and dairy-free. [Gourmet.com]

"Flexitarianism" isn't new - the term was coined back in the early 2000s and has been used to describe people who are mostly vego but also eat meat. But the problem with this approach is that it reinforces the idea that the world must be divided into red-blooded/thoughtless meat eaters and saintly/annoying vegetarians. Naming and defining "flexitarianism" as a deliberate merging of the two camps (a deliberate grey area, if you will) simply validates both meat-eating and vegetarianism and promotes the idea that these are the only two food options available to humanity.

We are omnivores - we will eat most things. Calling someone "flexitarian'' because they decide to eat both meat and vegetables is as silly as insisting that people should eat only meat or vegetables. Growing up in Asia, my family ate a diet that was 75% vegetables and 25% meat, for the simple reason that meat was expensive and we could only buy it every couple of days. When we did have meat, it was mostly chicken pieces, beef or goat mince. It was often used as part of a stew or curry dish that also included vegetables and was always served with extra dishes of veg. As a result, I'm conditioned to eat tiny amounts of meat and a sea of greens. TK grew up in a Western household on a diet that was pretty much the reverse of mine - for him, a well-crafted and lovingly prepared meat dish is essential every day. Neither of us would ever give up eating meat or veg - although there are sometimes arguments along the lines of "where the hell are the vegetables??" or "bring out the bloody meat!"

So if we eat both meat and vegetables, perhaps we are just doing what comes naturally. We don't need to be flexitarian or pescavegan or vegoflexes. And if we eat meat but reserve the right to be vego when it suits us and vice versa - well, maybe then we're just fussy.

Eat cake instead.

We were converted to the Brazilian churrasco experience earlier this year when we ate ourselves silly at Braza in Sydney's Leichhardt. Braza was a lucky find - TK discovered it on his phone while we were in Sydney for Top Gear Live and it capped off a delightful weekend. The churrasco - or Brazilian barbecue - proved an instant hit with its endless parade of roasted meat, game and fish served on swords, known as rodizio-style barbecue. The punchy, sugar-filled Brazilian cocktails and platters of traditional sides such as plantain chips rounded out the meal and gave a counterpoint to the vast meat array.

So the guys have been excited about the prospect of Canberran churrasco in the form of Mistress at Manuka. This fairly new restaurant sits on Manuka's main food strip, alongside Paparazzi bar and Lawson's Grill, and also does service as a tapas bar and red-lit nightspot.

The two men had the full all-you-can-eat churrasco ($55) while I, mindful of my small and useless stomach, had a half-churrasco ($35). The entrees were an assortment of chicken wings, beef ribs, grilled mushrooms and tiny meat skewers (I didn't have one so I can't remember what they were). A couple of deep-fried haloumi made a good snack but a similar pile of prawns just tasted like seafood Burger Rings.

Next a platter of accompaniments - sliced green beans, canned mango and onion, generic salad and banana fanofo, a traditional side dish which at Mistress amounted to little more than shrivelled cubes among dusty breadcrumbs.

And then the parade of meat began. Everything melded into one - not because of the sheer size of the array, but more the immense blandness of the meat. TK, who had rubbed his hands in glee when he saw Mistress promised to grill its meat over ''bourbon soaked hickory chips", inspected everything for a smoke ring and was disappointed every time. There was beef, and then pork, and then something else, each promising a flavour, a twist, an idea, on the menu but delivering a generic barbecue taste. A lime and quince chicken stood out - it actually tasted of lime. A blackened scotch fillet was given approval. Several baby octopus looked promising, but were buoyantly rubbery. They were only memorable visually. My gentleman companions, who had enthusiastically eaten everything in sight at Braza for about three hours, laid down their meat tongs in disgust after an hour at Mistress.

TK christened it "Meh at Manuka'' while Si said it was "mediocrity in all the right places''. Perhaps, like all mistresses, the lady at Manuka is fickle and there is better barbecue on other days. And when you compare her to Braza, where delights are found for $40 a head, she is a very expensive roll in the hay.

Mistress at Manuka
42 Franklin Street, Manuka
Food: 2/5
Service: 3/5
Value for Money: 1/5

I'd been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. Not only did I get four days off (random rec leave) but it was Simex's first full weekend after a month of working six-day weeks. And given his recent entry into the Cannot Live Without Roti Canai club, the three of us made a day trip to Sydney to visit Mamak on Goulburn St and to load up on Malaysian sweets and food.


Thanks to Maeve O'Meara and Joanna Saville's Food Safari on SBS, I'd also discovered Makan at Alice's in Thornleigh which sold Malaysian sweets (known as kuih). So I rang up and pre-ordered three boxes of my favourite kuih. We had a box of kuih talam with a deep green bottom of sweet pea and pandan and a layer of coconut cream on top. We also had kuih lapis, a Malaysian staple, with its bright stripes of pink, red and green. The last box had a baked tapioca cake with a light crust.

We drove down in the afternoon, squabbled our way through the northern suburbs ("I thought you were navigating!") and eventually got to Makan at Alice's. It's on Bellevue Road - turn off Pennant Hills Road. After picking up the sweets, we headed back into the city on the M2. TK was very excited about driving over the Sydney Harbour Bridge for the first time. With Si and me shouting out lane changes and checking blind spots, we slowly began merging towards the harbour bridge and the city lights of Sydney. "Hm, we seem to be all banking and IT,'' TK remarked, looking up at the glittering towers that loomed over the bridge.

"What?" asked Si. And as TK started to explain how the big signs on the office towers sometimes indicated the state of Sydney's economy, the lane for the harbour bridge flashed by and we had disappeared into the maw of the cross city tunnel, accompanied only by a shriek of protest from TK.

After doing a comprehensive tour of Oxford Street, we found our way back to the city and finally got to Mamak. It was 6.15pm and there was already a sizable queue out the front. We got a table at the back of the restaurant, argued again over the menu and ordered tons of food. In one mild frenzy we got through three or four roti, beef murtabak, lamb curry, chicken satay, rice, spinach with chilli and shrimp paste, iced rose syrup and beans, and iced coconut with little green sweetpea worms. Along with much of the drinks menu (including a mixed tea-and-coffee drink), it came to about $98 for the three of us. There was no room for a trip to George St to visit the 85 Degree Bakery.

So we did a quick dash through the rain to go on the Darling Harbour ferris wheel and tooled through the Asian grocery in World Square. By the time we got back to Canberra it was nearly 1am - but it was well worth the trip.

We recovered the next day by lying on the couch watching the National Spelling Bee on ESPN and eating the Malaysian cakes and some of our stash from the Asian grocery. This included:


Every Burger biscuits which, quite frankly, looked just like on the packet. They were a sesame biscuit sandwiched with milk chocolate.


And then there were the strange flavours of KitKat:


Muscat of Alexandria was brightly fake grape-flavoured white chocolate while Sweet Potato was just that, creamy and slightly earthy. It was followed by the best almonds in the world.

Sadly, they were not more delicious than we could tell. But thankfully there was also no ''aftertaste without end'', which would have interfered with the beef goulash and buttery mashed potato TK made for dinner.

Si and TK are conducting a campaign that involves plenty of Rock Band and whacky American food. The "Rocking the Foot Long" project is a manly and often meaty journey through the United Sandwiches of America. Truly.

This week they made Philadelphia cheese steak sandwiches. And got through the Rock Band AC/DC song pack.


TK cooked some prime wagyu on the egg and let it rest wrapped it in alum foil for about 20 minutes. He put a pan on the egg and gently fried some sliced onion and red capsicum. Then he cut the steak into thin strips and mixed it into the onion and capsicum. A generous helping of sliced provolone went into the pan and the whole smoky, melting mixture was turned out and spread over a sourdough loaf with a softly chewy crust from Silo.

Si and TK had half a loaf each. I declined on the basis that I was unable to punch that far above my weight in the sandwich department. But I did have a taste - the sandwich was a combination of richly flavourful meat and the sweet crunch of capsicum, with the gooey cheese and warm bread as an intermediary. The only drawback was the loaf was a little large. "I'm getting lockjaw,'' Si mumbled, halfway through a massive bite.

Afterwards the two guys sat limply on the sofa, groaning faintly and tittering about "my manwich!"

They had to play all the songs on the AC/DC Rock Band pack to perk up again.

Sometimes, a restaurant just doesn't get you - and you don't get it. The dishes sound good on the menu, they're attractive on the plate, and passably well-executed when you start tasting. But there is no spark of delight, no chemistry between your palate and the flavours. And then there are the other factors - service that looks good but is horribly inefficient, and prices that compound the pain. That was our night at Flint earlier in the week.



The restaurant is in the New Acton precinct, a former government block turned into a fashionable collection of swank hotels, bars, beauty salons, and restaurants. Flint was full when we rang up but we got a table out in the corridor, with a little sofa banquette in a corner. All pleasant enough, but very dimly lit, causing TK to mutter darkly about "Flint, not squint".

We had been told by TK's friend Carly that Flint boasted the best pizzas in town. She was distinctly wrong. The pulled chicken pizza ($24) looked promising but failed to deliver. The basil was overly sweet, the cheese a little offputting and TK deeply underwhelmed. "First she gives me a cold, and now she recommends a bum steer pizza.''

The twice-baked goat's cheese souffle ($17), an entree ordered as a main, was delicious and piping hot. Just creamy enough, though not particularly goat-like, and surrounded by a little puddle of butternut squash. Si's steak frites ($28) was a good serve of tender meat, the frites curly and crispy-deep brown. But "medium please" hadn't got through to the kitchen and the bavette was wine-dark red in the middle, visible even in the semi-darkness of the corridor.

Desserts were an improvement - albeit an extortionately priced improvement. TK had a chocolate platter ($15) which came with a shot of mousse, a chocolate log and two curious home-made "Twix'' sticks. The first two went down more than acceptably but the Twix stuck in the throat - a dry piece of shortbread with a coat of chocolate and missing the caramel sandwich layer of a normal Twix. "It's like one of those dodgy sports ovals where everything's just sand and grass,'' Si choked out. I had a slice of nougat ($15) with strips of apple and grape on the side. It was honey sweet and rippled through with fruit and nuts, nicely balanced against the slightly tart fruit. Si's parfait glass of coconut-milk tapioca pudding ($15) was possibly the best of the trio, a layer of passionfruit, lemon sorbet and pearls of tapioca topped with cloudy cream. The only problem here was a technical one - the dessert spoon didn't fit the parfait glass, leaving a tantalising goo of passionfruit on the bottom. A small detail, but an important one.

Bryan Martin in the Canberra Times suggests the floor service is Flint's weakness. It doesn't appear to have improved since his 2008 review in the Times food and wine section. We had three different waiters and waitresses, all pleasant enough and cheerful, but the wait times between menu delivery and ordering left much to be desired. TK, somewhat rudely, resorted to waving the menu in mock frustration and pointing at his desired dessert on the page. Perhaps it was harder to keep track of us sitting out in the corridor but at times it felt as though the restaurant was full of waitstaff busily ignoring the customers.

The cooking at Flint is not too bad and the chefs are looking to expand their menus but the value for money and service lets it down. The food, like a nice girl on a first date, just didn't click. "It was like playing battleships with a five-year-old,'' TK pronounced, glaring through the warmly lit windows at the kitchen staff and portraits of Barack Obama on the wall. "Lots of misses and not many hits.''

Flint Dining Room and Bar, New Acton, Civic.
Food: 3/5
Service: 1/5
Value for Money: 2/5

The cheese returns for another year. 2009 was not the best vintage Eurovision - a Soviet bloc of dullness interspersed with bursts of truly awful. But there must be highlights and here are some of ours.

Ukraine - Be Very Afraid


The frankly terrifying Svetlana Loboda beat us into submission with her raspberry red collagen lips, half-naked Trojans and the Hell Machine, a device used for instantly Britney-fying your life. Her performance, entitled Be My Valentine (Anti-Crisis Girl), could kill a bull elephant at 20 paces. It got top marks from everyone, which shows just what Euro trashbags we are.


Greece - This is Our Night to Travelate


Greek pop god Sakis Rouvas returned to perform his patriotic duty one more time at Eurovision. The former Olympic gymnast gave it everything he had - gleaming man cleavage, haystack hair, and a white suit. In other words, as the Guardian put it: "Sakis gets to jump off his podium a lot, barking "Fly!" upon each descent, with a misplaced optimism that would have shamed Icarus." His podium transforms into a travelator and then into a giant stapler upon which Sakis poses triumphantly, shirt flapping open, cleavage heaving. Pure Olympic gold.


Moldova
She got points for sheer gumption and for being 45 and loving her purple boots.

After our discovery of Mamak several weeks ago, we were directed to the similarly-named Mamak Corner restaurant at the Garran shops in Canberra. The direction, I hasten to add, was purely on the basis of the similarity of name. TK's colleague Elisa asked us to check it out and see if it was as good as Mamak, or even any good at all.

Well, it isn't. We went on a Tuesday night with our friend Simex and ordered a variety of Malaysian dishes. But they were all found sadly lacking. The chicken rice had a suitably broth-filled rice and the chicken was crispy on the outside, but bone dry on the inside. The char kuay teow had the requisite flat kuay teow noodles and some prawns - but that was about it. It was better oiled than Victoria Beckham at St Tropez and twice as dark.

Mamak Corner also failed the roti canai litmus test. They were soaked in oil, soggy and limp. Even TK, who sometimes has to be prevented from eating too much roti, refused to eat any more after an initial test mouthful. Simex, with the enthusiasm of a neophyte, became instantly addicted - much to TK's distress. Poor Si was forced to come home with us and eat a semi-decent roti from a frozen instant packet, and promised a trip to Sydney to visit Mamak.

So if you ever find yourself at the Garran shops, keep well away from the little Asian restaurant on the corner.

Mamak Corner Restaurant
Shop 4, Garran Place, Garran.
Food: 1/5
Value for Money: 3/5
Service: 3/5

Authentic Malaysian food is hard to find in Australia, the land where any fool can throw noodles and vegetables into coconut milk soup and call it a laksa (and they all do). This weekend we stumbled on a cheap and cheerful place in Sydney called Mamak which serves fresh roti canai, satay and very passable real Malaysian food.

We walked past it on Goulburn Street in Haymarket near Darling Harbour. A couple of dough boys make the roti out the front of the shop, stretching the roti dough out until it's tissue-thin and elastic and whirling it in the air. The place is very popular - the queue stretches out the door the entire hour and a half we spend at our meal - and it attracts a fair number of Malaysians.

There are a suitably wide variety of roti options on offer, just like at home - from a strange Westernized roti and ice cream dessert dish to the full murtabak (a meat, onion and cabbage casserole wrapped in a roti parcel). We get carried away and order a number of dishes for TK to try out. There is a beef murtabak, a dish of ayam goreng (Malay fried chicken), nasi lemak and a roti telur. There are even traditional hawker drinks, frothy sweet teh tarik (milky tea poured from a great height to create foam) and iced coffees.

The murtabak ($10.50) is suitably meaty, the beef garlanded in onions and cabbage. The slight sweetness of the flaky light roti counterbalances the hearty beef filling and even TK, who hates vegetables, is happy with the onions and shredded fried cabbage. He loves the fried chicken($12 for four pieces), which is a deep dark red-brown with tender white meat below. The nasi lemak ($7.50) is a traditional peasant dish, a mound of creamy rice cooked in coconut milk surrounded by fried peanuts, tiny crunchy sardine-like fish, and a (sadly very mild) jammy sambal. Chunks of cucumber and a boiled egg add interest. It's not great, but it's the real deal. And the roti telur ($6.50) is light and flaky but filled with tender fried egg.

For dessert we have ais kacang ($5) - a glass bowl of shaved ice coloured bright pink with rose syrup, and made sweet with condensed milk and palm syrup. Hidden within the cold syrupy depths are squares of delicate grass jelly, crunchy corn kernels and red beans. It's a bit too sweet because it lacks the plan flavours of kidney bean and the corn is creamed (and hence sugared) but it's not a bad approximation.

Mamak started out as a stall at Chinatown's Friday night markets and opened as a restaurant in 2007. They keep good Malaysian hours, staying open till 2am on Friday and Saturday nights and feeding customers seven days and nights a week. They are so popular they're outgrowing the current Goulburn St shop and are expanding next door which will hopefully allow them to cut the queues of faithful.

Malaysian food is hard to recreate properly - the mingled Malay, Indian, Chinese and Eurasian cuisines mean each dish requires knowledge of specialised techniques or a new food culture. Mamak (quite sensibly) limits itself to a menu which focuses on roti and dishes from Malaysian Indian and Malay cuisine. The rotis are churned out at the front while the curries and chillied vegetables dishes come out from the kitchen quickly and efficiently.

I'm already planning my next excuse to go to Sydney.

Mamak Restaurant
15 Goulburn St, Haymarket
Food: 4/5
Value for Money: 2/5
Service: 3/5

This is a great little South American dish that caters to both TK's love of chips and meat and my love of rice.

1 lb sirloin or tenderloin, cut into bite size pieces
1 small onion, cut into strips
1 large tomato, cut into strips
1 large hot pepper, seeded and cut into strips
salt
pepper
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/4 cup dry red wine
2 tablespoon lime juice
1/4 cup chopped coriander


Place the cut meat in a bowl or dish, and season it with salt, pepper, a little bit of olive oil, lime juice, and chopped garlic. Let marinate for at least 20 minutes.

Sauté meat over high heat for a few minutes until meat is no longer pink. Lower temperature to medium and add first the onion. Cook, stirring for 1 minute and then stir in the tomatoes and peppers. Cook until the onions are tender.

Add the red wine and the cilantro. Cook for one more minute. Serve with white rice.

This Christmas I was given a set of Yes to Carrots creams - a body lotion, face cream and shampoo. Apart from the silly name, the brand is a surprisingly affordable organic beauty range (about $40 for the set from www.chemistdirect.com.au). The range is paraben free and purports to be filled with Dead Sea minerals which have magic powers of rejuvenation. And organically grown carrots.

The body lotion is thick and silky and does a reasonable job keeping skin smooth and soft. It's not quite as rich as the Richmond Hemp Body Lotion but is a good light lotion. The C Today face cream is also souffle light, with a mild, pleasant smell. Good for summer and plenty of it to go round in a generous tub. It can leave the skin a tiny bit oily on a hot summer day but this could also just as easily be a side effect of the weather. The Pampering Carrot Juice shampoo is also a pleasant little product - it keeps hair relatively free of dandruff and has a soothing feel. Perhaps the only drawback is the funky orange colour in the shampoo gel. Having tested the shampoo I'm now curious to try the Yes to Carrots hair conditioner, which could be a contender in the Neverending Quest for Good Long Hair Care.

Yes to Carrots offers excellent value and reasonably good performance for an organic or chemical-free beauty range. There's a sense of fun - and some sadly lame puns - through the products and the gentle day face cream is a particular standout.

Yes to Carrots
Value for Money: 8/10
Ethical Smugness Factor: 7/10
But Does It Actually Work? 7/10