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A Defining Moment in Food
SYDNEY - If I am fortunate, it happens about once a
year. It is what I have come to call the Defining Moment
in food. I all but stop midbite, and realize that I
am in the presence of greatness. The room shakes. The
most recent defining moment came in the Grange Restaurant
in the Hilton International Hotel in Adelaide, Australia.
During a monthlong dining tour that included some of
the best spots in Perth, Adelaide, Sydney, Melbourne
and Brisbane, it was the Malaysian-born Chinese chef
Cheong Liew's love poem for the palate that seemed to
rocket me to another planet.
During the six-course tasting menu, Liew - who has
been credited with the fusion of Eastern and Western
flavors during the 1970s - provided food that fed the
spirit, the soul, the body, and with each dish-and-wine
pairing, I felt as though I was in the privileged presence
of a genius who had complete mastery and control of
his ingredients.
Like a musician with perfect pitch, this chef has an
uncanny talent for balance, strength, harmony, nourishment.
His food, which applies Asian methods to European food,
has an extraordinary density of flavor, contrast of
texture and a way of illuminating each ingredient without
camouflaging the others.
So, his food is immensely satisfying. (When Stephanie
Alexander, a top Australian chef, tasted Liew's food
for the first time she announced ''I had just better
stop cooking.'')
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Shark in a Pouch
Such bold and complex dishes as shark's-fin pouch in
venison consommé, spiced with tarragon, is a
perfect example of his creative genius: A pasta-pouch
filled with a sherry-tinged shark's-fin soup floats
atop a rich venison consommé.
One is advised to consume most of the warming consommé
first, then burst the pasta pouch filled with the soup,
wild mushrooms, chicken and ginger. A garnish of tarragon
makes this the perfect yin-yang dish, with the heat
of the game and ginger, the coolness of shark's fin
in a single, dramatic bite. Set off with a glass of
Lustau Jarana Fino sherry, the dish creates a complete
circle of flavors.
Another adventurous dish, red roasted barramundi (a
firm Australian fish) teamed up with green chili, coriander,
snow-pea shoots and calamari shavings, makes for a memorable
meal that pleases all the senses, with its herbal aroma,
dense flavor, visual appeal and burst of sensations.
You could almost hear the sound of the sea in the dish.
Paired with an Evans and Tate semillon, it was a dish
to savor and remember.
Using Liew's romantic, almost ornate cuisine as a starting
point, one can easily see that Australia - which inherited
a drab Anglo-Saxon diet not at all fitting to the island's
climate or ethnic diversity - is in full flourish.
With a strong foundation of adventuresome chefs, eager
diners and a wildly expanding wine industry, there is
nothing to hold Australia back. A visit 10 years ago
covering the same territory suggested that there was
promise. Today's Australian cuisine surpasses that promise.
The energy and sense of humor suggest that anything
is possible here. Take the names of modern Australian
restaurants - Salt, Dish, Tables, The Loose Box, MG
Garage (yes, in an auto showroom) Fuel (yes, in a gas
station), Café Sweethearts, France Soir, J'Febs
(for the initials of the names of the owner's five children),
Nudel Bar, Fishface, The Raving Prawn, The Little Snail,
Medium Rare - and you see this is a nation that does
not take itself too seriously.
The names of Australia's wines tell you a lot about
the Australian sense of humor as well as lighthearted
irreverence: RBJ Theologicum, Dead Man's Hill gewurztraminer,
Diva sangiovese, Abbot's Prayer merlot cabernet, Nine
Popes, Chapel Hill The Vicar, Hill of Grace. But it
is no laughing matter that Australia boasts some 800
wineries, most producing very high-quality wines. By
the year 2010 Australia hopes to produce 15 percent
of the world market in volume (and more by value) putting
it fourth behind Spain, France and Italy.
Today one finds a lot of substance in Oz. As the Australian
food writer Cherry Ripe points out, Australia is a European
culture in an Asian-Pacific location. With chefs whose
heritage include Malaysian, Japanese, French, British,
Greek, Italian and native Australian, true fusion cuisine
is not only possible but perfectly natural. The chefs
are also in the midst of creating their own trademark
style, one that reflects the ethnic populations, the
seasons, the oceans, the hills and the lifestyles of
this vast nation.
As with much of the rest of the modern world, the food
of Australia is ingredient-driven, and by that I mean
that the chef chooses to honor the prawns from the sea,
the chicken from the barnyard, the fruits and vegetables
from the garden, making them taste as much like themselves
as humanly possible.
There is an Australian look to food as well, large
white plates serving as lovely, clean palettes for the
chef's artistry. The Australians understand wine and
food pairing better than most, with perfect matches
almost every time.
As the Australian food authority Maggie Beer noted,
''We are learning from other countries' mistakes.''
And so this ecologically aware nation that is banning
the caviar of the protected sturgeon, and pioneering
fish farming as the waters' bounty is increasingly depleted,
is also creating a lively exchange between growers and
restaurateurs, experimenting but with an intelligent
eye.
Traveling from city to city, it was clear that chefs
leave no stone unturned. They are unrestrained by tradition
and offer a cuisine that is at once vibrant, fresh,
innovative and well crafted.
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THEY do make mistakes. All too often, I found chefs
insisting on an East-meets-West cuisine when they had
no technical ability to carry it out. It seemed that
menus were filled with such items as Vietnamese Pho
soup or Indian curry or Japanese sushi because the chef
assumed diners expected this exotic blend. All too often,
the dishes fell flat and were far less exciting than
the real thing in an ethnic restaurant.
I hope to grab those jars of truffle oil from every
Australian chef's hands: The powerful oil is used in
excess, often marring otherwise excellent dishes. Likewise,
such appealing ingredients as arugula (almost always
served with indigestible, weed-like stems intact) are
used as a crutch, and Western-style breads often appeared
simply awkward in many fusion menus.
Some practices - such as opening oysters beforehand
and washing them under running water - seem simply naïve
and lazy. And a government that bans the creation and
the import of raw-milk cheeses is surely misguided.
The high praise is fitting for perhaps only a small
portion of restaurants. As Alexander remarked: ''In
Australia, if you know what you are doing, you can have
the best of everything every day. But you will be alone.''
The circle, it is clear, needs to be enlarged.
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