A la Grecque

Having been granted the privilege of a weekend at the family shack in Anglesea, I wasn’t looking forward to firing up the antique electric cooktop after the traffic fraught dash to the coast. Will it be a quick pasta and meagre salad because nothing else is open or available this late? Not a pleasant start to a weekend away.

Shooting past Anglesea’s assortment of closed shops, we aim for Airey’s Inlet hoping that the pub would suffice instead. Across the road, A la Grecque beckons. Surely this is an anomaly. Greek meets Aussie on tourist road? It can’t bode well. However the lights are on, the place looks busy and we’re tired and hungry. Why not?

Having lived in Greece, I know my keftedes from ersatz meatballs. I can smell fake Greek from a marathon away. Tempting fate, I order an ouzo, short, no ice, water on the side. The waiter looks like my very young nephew but appears to understand the request. He delivers my aperitif quickly and I begin to focus on the menu.

In short, I had the best meal I’ve ever had on this culinary desert stretch of stunning coastline. Good restaurants are few and far between on the Great Ocean Road.

Subsequent weekends away have acquired less challenging aspects now that I’ve discovered A la Grecque. The Great Ocean Road has an added gloss now that this gem of a roadside diner has been unveiled. I’ve devoured authentic fried calamari, crisp, sweet, fresh and exquisite. It’s a dish that a young Riesling was made to marry. I’ve tempted fate and eaten fried haloumi that isn’t rubberised as it waits under a heat lamp for a waiter to hurry it to a table. Posing as saganaki, its lemony juices beg to be sopped up with lovely crusty bread. The locally caught whiting is simply cooked and served with a piquant dice of tomato, onion, cucumber and mint. Sometimes there’s a fine fish soup such as what you may eat at a swish seaside Glyfada restaurant, or lamb cooked as it is in the Peloponnesian countryside, salty yet sweet, succulent and slightly smoky.

Inside the look is vaguely Greek, white walls, tiled floor, wooden tables and chairs. Nothing fancy, like a taverna in an Athenian suburb yet the welcome is warm and the kitchen sends out one fragrant toothsome dish after another.

Sunday lunch here is typically Greek, a family affair, boisterous and jolly. And yet, that delicious food keeps on coming. The wine list provides an interesting mix of Australian and Greek offerings; it suits the food and is moderately priced with an adequate selection by the glass. Entrees (from $18), main courses (from $26) and desserts ($12) vary according to seasonal availability. Food this good at these moderate prices is hard to find in Greece. That it’s in Airey’s Inlet is sheer luck for me and all other hungry Hellenophiles.

Bella Vedere

The Yarra valley is to Melbourne what the Napa valley is to San Francisco. They share a close proximity, wines, food and hills. Choice proliferates. But when Sunday lunch at Bella Vedere beckons, little confusion ensues; it’s a no-brainer decision.

What does the name mean in English? Bella = Pretty. Vedere = To see or look. Yes, the views from this hilltop restaurant adjoining Badger’s Brook winery are lovely. But looks alone are not enough to draw in a picky lunch-a-lot crowd. We want more. Fortunately Bella Vedere delivers. Chef Gary Cooper and Major Domo Tim Sawyer run this enterprise of combined bakehouse and cooking school like a well olive-oiled machine. Open since 2003, Bella Vedere has raised the Yarra valley’s dining bar to a new level of high stakes.

Cooper’s menu reads like a gourmet’s list of addictions, all the requisite fixes are here. While choice is desirable, I find this one daunting and want to eat everything. After prolonged deliberation, a food addict’s sweet agony, I convince my partner to have what I want to eat. A compromise in my favour certainly but what’s a glutton to do?

We share an Autumn Oxtail Soup with Suet Dumplings ($12), an intense consommé replete with little balls of toothsome beefiness. We follow this with two more entrees. Crumbed Sardines with Baba Ganoush, Egg, Capers, Cornichons and Currants ($16) were superb with a glass of Christian Salmon 08 Sancerre. An audaciously delicious Smoked Eel and Mustard Fruit Lasagne ($16) with a lemony buerre blanc matches a glass of Dr. Mayer 08 Riesling Trocken perfectly. From the daily specials list I choose Tripe in the style of Parma with Polenta Cake ($28). With some persuasion my partner opts for the Braised Rare Breed Pork Belly with a Succotash Salad ($30). When tripe is cooked properly, it becomes a succulent sponge for the flavours it’s cooked with. Cooper obviously understands complex flavour combinations. The pork belly and tripe are both triumphs. With Sawyer’s advice, from the extensive list of local and imported wines, we choose a bottle of Enzo 08 Dolcetto d’Alba to accompany the mains. Desserts ($16): a selection of cakes, tartes and pastries evoke more sweet agony. Finally we settle on fresh Fig Tarte and Profiteroles with Kennedy & Wilson Chocolate Sauce.

After our lunch, Sawyer recommends a stroll in the garden. Actually a hike up Mount Toolebewong is my partner’s choice. But heavy rain descends over the valley forcing us to contemplate the pretty views instead. Sometimes life really is beautiful and my legs will live to see another day.

Cliffy's Emporium

Dawdling in Daylesford? There are worse pastimes surely. But when the plethora of kitsch country shops turns into an overload of retail banality, Cliffy’s Emporium is the ticket to recovery.

The first time I entered Cliffy’s, enchantment occurred. Had I just slipped down the Alice-in-food-Wonderland hole? Nothing appeared organised, not quite real. My eyes were drawn to a garden pail full of fresh currants. Next to it was a basket of Blampied potatoes. I wanted both but opted for the former. That the quirky hand-written sign for these little gems of sweet-sour ripeness was spelled ‘currents’ mattered not, I bought a half kilo, adding them to a summer pudding I made later the same day. After lunch I relented. The potatoes were sublime in a salad with smoked trout, capers and fresh dill.

I can’t find anything at Cliffy’s that isn’t sourced locally. Tuki Farm smoked trout (perfect with the potatoes in a warm salad), Holy Goat cheese, fruits and vegetables too, scattered about in baskets and buckets amongst the jars of house-made jams, chutneys and pickles. Emporium indeed, more a Turkish bazaar trapped in an old wooden frame house a short walk from Daylesford’s main street. When at Cliffy’s I don’t know where to look. Will it be the assortment of locally produced olive oils and wines? Or will a bag of hard-to-find farro tempt me? It’s like a jumble sale run by a mad foodie who fortunately has a penchant for good wine.

Back again, we peruse the menu. Written on a paper bag, it hangs on an earring rack, no doubt rescued from a garage sale. A plate of unctuous duck liver parfait with toasted sourdough bread and pickled cherries ($12) is simple and perfect. A rustic chickpea salad with goat’s cheese and fresh greens is pure country goodness on a plate ($12). An apricot and almond cake with double cream is a tangy, nutty delight ($6). Excellent coffee follows. One in our party has a pot of Earl Grey tea, leaves floating in a flowered pot, lemon slice on the side. None of the crockery or cutlery matches. Classic jazz plays softly in the background, Ella Fitzgerald is singing about birds and bees doing it. Would Cole Porter have liked this place too?

Ensconced in a booth seat at a window table, I pick up a travel magazine from a stack balanced on a nearby bookshelf. From the last century, it features a cover story about Spanish tapas. It’s a kismet moment while I nibble on food that looks as good. The view includes four gentlemen sharing an outside table and a bottle of sparkling wine. Obviously, theirs has been a long bibulous lunch. An aged golden retriever solicits friendly pats from each. Soft light filters through the grape arbour hanging from the verandah roof. Retail banality? Not at Cliffy’s Emporium.

Merricks General Store

The Mornington Peninsula’s restaurants are like its wine. Occasionally a bad one mars the overall impression and I have paid excessively for both inferior food and mediocre wine. Fortunately, Merricks General Store offers a reliable and reasonably priced alternative to other trendy diners that proliferate in these parts.

Merricks’ calls itself a general store. This is not where you buy a litre of milk, aspirin and the newspaper. It’s a restaurant. Though store is in the name, the restaurant is really the game, which results in a confusing situation for many newcomers.

Local wines available for tasting are poured at a counter opposite the entrance. Regional products array wall shelves. A large display fridge faces tables set for lunch. Waiting guests mill about in hesitation. I overhear, ‘Can I try this?’ ‘How much is this?’ ‘I’ve booked a table.’ All at once. No one at the door helps sort out diners from deli customers or wine tasters. I try to catch someone’s attention. Finally we’re noticed by a hurried waitress, ‘Yes that table is free,’ she says in a rush, pointing to a table near the door. It’s an intriguing vantage point. Others not so lucky remain in limbo. Patience is wearing thin. Designer outfits suddenly look un-preened, feathers ruffle. Like ducks paddling away from approaching boats, a murmuring disquiet ensues. I notice faux-genteel pushing, a polite quack.

With our entrees, duck and rabbit rillettes with spiced prunes ($18) and gorgonzola pannacotta with baby beets, asparagus and a beetroot pomegranate dressing ($18) we drink glasses of Quealy Senza Nome Tocai Friuliano, a variety rarely grown in Australia, known also as Sauvignon Vert; it’s a refreshing change from Pinot Gris. Kath Quealy of T’Gallant fame is a partner in the business, hence the overall wine focus. The Baillieu and Myer families are fellow owners and vignerons. The wine zings. The entrees sing. Waiting guests bristle.

I choose another entrée, finely sliced lamb with white anchovies, pickled turnips, tahini yoghurt and fennel grissini ($17) while my partner splurges on duck confit, shaved fennel and cabbage salad with roasted hazelnut dressing ($29). We share a side dish of green beans with spiced almond and preserved lemon ($10). Glasses of Merricks General Store Pinot Noir, made from Mornington grapes, match well with both. All up, the food is slickly presented and skilfully prepared with high quality ingredients.

Given the cross-pollination of Eastern Med/Middle Eastern flavours Chef Janine Richmond appears to prefer, we decide to share a rice pudding with Elgee Park quinces. A nostalgic combination of cinnamon, cardamom, sweet-sour quince and creamy soft rice, it’s a comfort food memory but contemporarily delicious. Now that the lunch rush is over, the flock is content.

Despite its General Store pretence and confusing greeting policy, Merricks proves the migratory path south continues to provide pleasant weekend excursion opportunities. The mostly well-heeled guests appear to concur but they don’t like to be kept waiting, obviously.

Ruffy General Store

Blink and you miss it. Many Australian hamlets appear like mirages, really there or not? Ruffy is one such hamlet. What places it firmly on the Victoria’s gustatorial map is its Produce Store. While many localities lost their mixed business stores yonks ago, Ruffy’s was restored in quirky though loving fashion six years ago by Helen McDougall and Doug McLean, two ex-urbanites seeking old fashioned peace and quiet in an off-beat location.

Arriving in Ruffy for a quick squiz during a wandering Sunday drive, the sort of afternoon’s excursion that serendipity occasionally smiles upon, I expected nothing but was rewarded much. We were hungry. Prepared mentally for indifferent and plain toasted sandwiches at a boring diner, instead we were delighted by Ruffy Produce Store’s appearance. Two old bicycles with handlebar baskets parked outside reminded me of rural France. Flowerbeds under trees sparked Gallic memories. A hand-written chalkboard menu gave me a heightened frisson of barely suppressed joy. Could this be the solution to the riddle of ‘Why can’t country Victorian cafes cook decent, simply prepared food inspired by owners who know their ingredients?’ that plagues me constantly during my travels in Victoria from Mallacoota to Edenhope.

My first visit to Ruffy Produce Store began with a bowl of creamy parsnip soup ($10) and crusty sourdough bread. With it I had a glass of local Elgo Estate Riesling ($9), elegant and citric, perfect counterpoint to the sweet parsnip. My partner and I both devoured Longwood lamb pies ($16) with Ruffy Produce Store chutney on the side. Glasses of Maygar’s Hill Shiraz ($11) led me to consider my own tree-change toute de suite. We finished with a dense slice of Italianate apple tarte with double cream ($8.50) and head clearing short black coffees. Well sated, we left with bottles of local wine and Ruffy Produce Store’s home made preserves and pickles in hand.

Convinced that I was having a very good dream day, I set a plan to return for a reality check. Surely this lunch wasn’t possible in tiny Ruffy, a fly-speck on the road to nowhere?

Early spring led to summer, Ruffy preyed on my mind. We rang ahead this time, both to confirm that this mirage café did exist and that we would have a table, an equal bet both ways.

Tomato and feta tartes with spring salad greens ($15), chicken liver pate with various pickles ($16), more glasses of local wines from Dawson and Wills and Longwood Estate wineries, more scrumptious cakes and coffee that even Brunswick-based caffeine addicts would find satisfying.

Ruffy General Store does exist. Some dreams do come true after all.