Pony Club


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I grew up riding horses. Not pretty little ponies, but real, gritty, working mans horses. Ok, well maybe not working men, but men who have things to do and places to be, and no time for fancy shenanigans. We grew up in New Zealand riding the family horse Pinky, who was a former pacer (racing name: Inky Pinky Parlez Vous). Pinky was a good horse, but a crazy horse… She would at random and unknown times decide to switch from running forwards, to running sideways, and when you’re riding bareback (because you don’t own a saddle), that can be a problem. Dad decided it would be a good idea for me to start learning to ride her by myself when I was about 4… possibly one of the scariest moments in my life up until that point, but after the bruises healed, it soon cemented my love of horses.

Skip forward a few years and we find ourselves in Australia, horseless… Though it doesn’t take Dad long to find a local crazy called Joe who had plenty of crazy horses but no time to ride them. Joe lived on the outskirts out town and had amassed himself a huge junkyard of old cars and machinery, and (inexplicably) a small herd of Welsh Mountain Ponies.

One of these Welsh Mountain Ponies was named Rocky… and was every bit the battler of his famous namesake (Marciano not Balboa). He was of course a stallion, and prone to choosing his own course of action whilst galloping through a forest at high speed… which always made for an interesting ride. Rocky was not the most stable horse to ride… Dad had broken him in (along with the other horses there), and trained him to accept having someone ride him… but there were times when he conveniently forgot about all that and just did his own thing. In some ways that’s why I liked him so much… he was his own horse… he just let me sit on his back sometimes.

The pony club on the other hand, stood for everything that I wasn’t. Privileged, polished, and perfectionist, and all the pluck and courage in the world did not stop Rocky (and I) drawing the scorn of the primped and plaited members of the pony club brigade. I despised them… Their perfect little ponies prancing around in circles with ribbons in their tails and plaited manes… They were the bourgeois and I was the proletariat. My rugged little pony and I would gallop through the bush jumping logs, tree stumps, fences, and generally causing mischief. I didn’t have a helmet, a crop, jodhpurs, riding boots. I had a hard head, a stick, some old jeans, and a pair of well holed K-mart special Traxx.

Every year the local agricultural show would happen, and the pony club girls would get their parents to help them groom and ready their ponies, load them into a horse float, and drive them into town. I would ride my bike out to Joe’s place, saddle up Rocky, and ride him the few kilometres into town myself.

We competed well, but the judges seemed to be less interested in how fast I could ride and how high we could jump than they were at how nicely you can post whilst trotting around in a circle, and at exactly which angle you hold your feet in the stirrups. So sadly my technique for holding the reins that I’d developed from the need to jump off in a hurry before Rocky went crazy, didn’t win any votes. Still, we did manage to come away with the award for champion pony stallion under 14 hands, of which he was the only entrant…

Such is my experience with the ilk of the pony club… Elitist and over privileged, with little respect for what they’ve got.

What the hell does that have to do with food you say ?? Well nothing… but it does set the scene for the main attraction… My restaurant review of “Pony Club”.

Pony Club is a new tapas restaurant in Mt Lawley, where Infusion Noodle Bar used to be. The layout is basically the same as it was in the Infusion days, with a little more of a plush intimate feel coming from the use of a few velvety curtains here and there. The fit out is stylish and refined and the lighting dark (I have a feeling it actually got darker as the night went on). It looks and feels like it’s going to be a classy kind of place, and this is where my rant begins.

Tapas are bar snacks ! This is how they started off, this is how they should be. They are a brilliant idea. Bring out lots of tasty little dishes and charge next to nothing for them so people can happily snack away all night whilst consuming large quantities of wine and beer, before perhaps moving on to somewhere more substantial for dinner later. The moment they spread out into their own themed restaurants, things started to go down hill.

Now I’ll admit, I was once enamoured with the idea of the tapas restaurant. What a great concept it seemed. Lots of different flavours and tastes combining to make a meal. Easy to share with large groups of people who can happily graze over dish after dish of sumptuous Spanish delicacies.

Not so !

The reality is that most of these places are massively over priced and serve up minuscule dishes that everyone on the table fights for a piece of, before forgetting was it even was two seconds later. This is what we ordered at Pony Club:

Chermoula Prawns,
Dhukka Chicken,
Spanish Meatballs,
Chorizo Stew (look for my version coming soon),
Salmon Tartlets.

I would have thought that would have been a decent meal for two people… but $100 and less than an hour later it was all over and we went home still hungry. Now even if you aren’t blessed with my tank-like physique and uncanny eating abilities, I’d challenge anyone to be truly satisfied after getting a few bites of any one thing.

The food itself was nice, but uninspiring. Having made or tasted something similar to most of what was on the menu I was singularly unimpressed by all of it. And at around $14 per dish… they were far from worth it in my book.

The tiny wine list had some nice looking entries on it, but with only 3 available by the glass, and my eventual choice of a glass of Tempranillo setting me back a cool $9, I would have much rather been at home with a bottle from my small but growing collection of Spanish wines soothing my gourmet nerves.

So in the end… a revelation occurred. Fancy tapas restaurants are not for me, and until I have sampled and written off every tapas bar in Spain, I will be weary about any place that makes it seem like I should expect to pay top dollar for glorified bar snacks. To be fair, there is a “main meal” section of the menu, but we weren’t ordering from that, so I really can’t comment on how good it was. The girls next to us seemed to enjoy their Moroccan Chicken Salad.. however strange it’s appearance on the menu was.

I’m sure some people will like this place, it may even turn out to be very popular, but just remember that you heard it here first… Yo no quiero tus tapas !

The Pony Club
620 Beaufort Street, Mt Lawley 6050
Western Australia

Tel: (08) 9228 8801
www.theponyclub.com.au

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Must Wine Bar

Saturday night in the big city of Perth. What to do, what to do…

Sharon and I had decided it was time to head out and do something for once, rather than sitting at home in the safe little bubble that is my world of supposedly gourmet cooking. The interesting thing about running a food blog, is that when you want to look for a place to go and eat, you invariablely get sent back to your own website for more information. At which point you also get a chance to go over just how funny you were the first time you wrote whatever you happened to write (or possibly cringe at how lame you sounded).

So after a little checking and a few phone calls, it was decided. Must Wine Bar. Home of one of Perth’s best wine lists, some of the trendiest waiters in town, and some very tasty food to go with it.

I’ve been to Must many times before, although mainly to drink. It was the scene of a rather boistrous birthday party a couple of years ago where I think I over stayed my welcome after shattering 3 wine glasses. Good times.

Must is a funky place. It’s in Mt Lawley, which makes it funky by default…but it doesn’t rest on its funky laurels… It steps its game up big time. The place is always full of young sexy people (and old sexy people, and a few people who are neither young nor sexy, but who dress well enough to get past the bouncer).

We rolled in at around 9pm, only to be told by the funky host waiter that the place was fully booked, and they wouldn’t be able to seat us. Having a quick look into the restaurant part, I could tell that was blatantly false, and I was also quite happy to have a wine or two at the bar while waiting for a table, so I says to him… i says (in a cockney accent) “Can you go and check if there are any tables coming free soon…”. So he wanders off down the back and has a look around, has a quiet word in the ear of a few of the other funky waiters, and then comes back and tells me… “Well, maybe we can fit you in if you can be out by 10:15pm”. Now some people would be terribly put off by such time limits… Not me… I like a challenge. Firstly it means I’m going to get fast service, and it also means I can test my speed eating skills out… in case the world of competitive eating ever comes knocking on my door.

So we are seated, get some menus, and quickly get down to choosing the wine and mains we’re going to have. Making sure that we are ready in time so as not to cause them any strife due to double booking. 15 minutes later however, with all of our decisions made… no sign of any waiters. No-one hovering over us tentatively, waiting to rush off to the kitchen post haste with our express post delivery. What’s more strange is that now the restaurant is half empty, and looks extremely unlikely to fill back up to capacity. So why the waiter felt the need to tell us there was no room in the first place is a mystery to me… but whatever… we were in.

I ordered the Beef Cheek Ravioli in a Wild Mushroom Jus, and Sharon ordered the Steak and Chips (it wasn’t called steak and chips on the menu, but I forget it’s fancy name… and it was basically steak and chips anyway). I also ordered some minted beans as a side, and a bottle of Prunotto 2003 Barbera D’Alba (which was a delicious big fruity well rounded red wine).

The meals came out soon enough and I have to say mine was delicious. The beef cheek ravioli was melt in your mouth texture, and the wild mushroom sauce over it was a great earthy compliment. The Barbera went really well with this too. Sharon’s steak dish was less exciting. It came with the option of either bernaise or poivrade sauce, she chose poivrade, which was tangy, but not particularly nice. The steak itself was well cooked, but really, it was just a steak, some frites, and a small bowl of the sauce. Not exactly worth the $30+ dollars.

Then on to dessert and I chose a sticky fig pudding with vanilla bean ice cream, while Sharon had a chocolate tart with orange ice cream (?) I think. mine was really nice, and Sharon’s not so nice. The orange infusion ice cream didn’t really work for me, and the rest of the dessert was kind of mediocre. Perhaps we’re just more easily pleased with the traditional sweet styles of dessert.

By this time we were done. The bottle of wine was fully polished off and the offer of Vittoria coffee (shudder) politely turned down.

There are a lot of things to like about Must, but it’s not for everyone. It’s reasonably expensive. Most mains are in the $25 – $35 range, and with side dishes, dessert, and wine, it adds up to quite a substantial bill, which is perhaps belied by the fact that it’s essentially attached to a bar. It’s also quite loud due to the bar section right next to the restaurant section, and if you aren’t into being surrounded by lots of trendy people dressed up for a night out, then it might not be your kind of place.

I personally love the atmosphere and the food, and the wine list makes me salivate every time I look over it. The waiters (when they aren’t turning people away from a half full dining room), are very knowledgeable about the wines and will provide you with a sommelier service if you ask for suggestions. The food in most cases is excellent, but I’d choose your meal carefully so as not to be disappointed by something that sounds fancier than it actually is.

It was great for us though… a chance to get out and do some people watching, and also add a couple of new dishes to my “I think i could make this better at home” list… which is growing just as fast as my ego is :)

All in all though a great night, and we will no doubt be back many times in the future.

Must Winebar
519 Beaufort Street
Highgate
Tel: (08) 9328 8255
Fax: (08) 9328 8355
Email: must@iinet.net.au

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Alt Heidelberg

Alt Heidelberg is on Beaufort St in North Perth, basically diagonally across from the Brisbane Hotel on the corner of Beaufort and Brisbane Streets.

It’s (suprisingly enough) a German restaurant, and apparently has quite a bit of history to it. The owners are a German husband and wife couple who moved to Perth quite a while ago and started it as a way of furthering their love of cooking, and filling the void of quality German restuarants in our fair city…

This is another place that i’ve driven past hundreds of times, and finally curiosity got the better of me. So one night after a work social function Sharon and I decided to stop in here for a late dinner. The place looks like a German pub (or what i imagine one might look like after reading Asterix & Obelix go to Germany)…with low ceilings, nice wrought iron lamps and light fittings and candles on all the tables.

The waitress was a friendly German girl who looked at me weird when i asked for “the most German thing” on the menu… But then suggested the ham shank on mashed potato for me and a beef olived sausage type thing with cabbage for Sharon. Must say the Germans love their meat… well at least pork anyway. When my meal arrived it looked essentially like half a pig slow cooked and then fried to make the skin crispy… served on a bed of mash potato… There was no pretense of other vegetables… and i was too hungry (and partially drunk) at that stage, so didn’t bother ordering any. Sharons meal looked like about 15 types of meat wrapped in other meat…and stuffed with meat… It was tasty for about three mouthfull’s, but then meat fatigue set in, and it was all over. Let’s just say that meat got the better of me that night… i never thought it would happen, nor that i would admit it… but sometimes there’s just too much meat on the plate. Perhaps if i hadn’t had to chew through a substantial amount of grisel to get to the meat it would have been a more rewarding experience, but i didn’t really have it in me… so i chalked it all down to experience and bid the owner adieu (or its equivant in German).

In it’s defence, this is a really nice quaint little restaurant. It obviously has a following or it wouldn’t have been around for as long as it has, and while we there it was full of a big mixture of people. The table next to us looked like a group of backpackers from an array of different countries… which gave way to one of my favourite people watching passtimes of seeing people who don’t speak English natively try and communicate in English with other people who don’t English natively either… comedy gold… but then love finds a way in the end.

Alt Heidelberg
283 Beaufort Street
Perth
Phone: (08) 9227 0988