I was kindly asked for some travel tips for International Traveller’s latest Top 100 issue. Tasmania! Public drinking abroad! Pick up a copy this month, it’s so good and a fantastic read with so many excellent contributors.
Mjølner is a place which doesn’t do things by halves. For example, if a cocktail is inspired by Nordic fjords, they will set the scene accordingly. Whole birds at the table, beer served in horns. I took some photos when Mjølner first opened so I was very happy to be invited back knowing it would be a fun time – food by Joachim Borenius and cocktails but Alissa Gabriel.
Comfy, earthy feels. Some recent photos for the opening of Ortzi in Surry Hills.
This is it, this is the holy grail, a roast goose restaurant owned by the son of a Cantonese opera singer. For 60 years Yat Lok has been churning out the good geese with secret family recipes.
This restaurant was closed almost every day of this holiday. Five days prior I had turned up, walked in pointless, hungry circles at Google Maps, only to arrive at the devastating realisation that the shopfront I was looking for was the one with the shutters drawn, salivating. On my last day I returned off-peak at 3pm – they were open, surely a mirage – there was no line, no waiting, just pure unadulterated roast meat hours before my flight home. Bless this Bird bestowed upon me at the eleventh hour. This was the most perfect meat I’d ever eaten – sweet, succulent, crisp roast goose and char siu. The plate, a chalice; my face, not worthy.
The above is an excerpt from my book Holiday Notes: Six Nights in Hong Kong.
The guys at Fujisaki let me roam around for a day in their impossibly beautiful restaurant. What I'm about to say may not be so good for business, but, it's difficult to take a bad photo here. Shout outs to perfect truffle ice cream quenelles.
Mister Percy's perfect pinchos by Justin North, at Ovolo 1888 in Darling Harbour – shot prior to the opening, even existence, of this new wine bar.
These are the most expensive brownies I've ever made. No gold leaf, no kopi luwak. When reaching for my phone to reach deep into the internet to fetch a recipe I once published, my phone fell and smashed on the kitchen floor. Tragic. Chewy.
My last job before taking some time off to get married (lol) was the new brunch menu at Paper Bird in Potts Point. After a couple of months of living on low-calorie microwavable fish for that photogenic bride bod, a mouthful of XO dumpling felt like a magnificent resurrection.
Sea urchin on toast and kangaroo sangas – Smoke, the rooftop bar of Barangaroo House, shot for Condé Nast Traveler.
I was about to describe myself as a truffle dessert convert here, except I was never actually anti-truffle dessert – I'd not yet experienced the majesty of the prized dirt clump alongside sugar until now. That's alchemy. So good.
The quince demands respect and hard work, which is why it's my favourite fruit.
From Hobart honesty box, hire car, home and finally to my teaspoon (supplemented with some extra fruit my Yiayia gave me), I'm a modern woman who makes a mean quince jam.