For the uninitiated, some arseholes on Twitter decided that south King St wasn’t a good enough location descriptor, so they needed to shorten it to SoKi. Wat.

Anyway, it made me realise that if someone decided it needed a new name, there was obviously more going on down there than the last time I visited (possibly a year ago or more) and I should check it out.

In the spirit of the evening, all photos, bar one, were taken with Hipstamatic – The photo app for the fuckwit on the go.

We started our evening off at Bench Wine Bar.

I liked the setting, which is unusual for me. Normally I will get the shits with the atmosphere, crappy ‘reclaimed’ seats and ‘hip’ layout, but I liked it. The website claims it’s ‘Industrial Chic’. I wouldn’t go that far, just because all of the tables and chairs were textured metal, but it looks cool. And it’s still comfy. I like it.

And the wine wall changes colour. Coooooooooool.

My drinkin’ partner had a glass of the Two Italian Boys Sangiovese. It was like a big Sangiovese punch in the face. Gorgeous. I had the Tscharke ‘Girl Talk’, which, although retails for a rather low price, is a rather nice drop. Get on it.

The wines gave us confidence in their list. Slightly overpriced, as most wine bars are, but at least it reflected that someone in the house had some knowledge of wine and didn’t just go with what the supplier suggested the price should be. Nice work.

Bench is right next to Pizza Picasso. Seeing as they have a $15 pizza menu, along with a bunch of things that can be made by pulling it out of the fridge and putting in on a plate, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say they are in cahoots with the pizza place next door, if not owned by them. I have no idea, because I didn’t actually ask. There seemed to be an older woman hovering and waiting tables, though, which is not your stereotypical wine bar owner. I just assumed she owned both places.

We ordered the Bench Carnivore.

To be honest, for $15, it really wasn’t that great. Two bits of parma ham and two bits of cured Wagyu, that probably could have come from any old deli, isn’t that impressive. Granted, it came with a big wedge of ‘Warrnambool’ cheddar (and a choice between that and goat’s cheese), and a small serve of pickled onion salsa-type-thing (to me, it looked and tasted like chopped up cocktail onions, but I could be wrong!), with bread, but it didn’t stack up to other similar plates I’ve had. I was quite taken aback by the bread as well. Most places will offer some sort of hard bread, as, what I thought, is the tradition. Maybe I’m wrong.

We decided to move on and discovered Martini, a place famed for its breakfasts, was open to serve booze. Hells yeah.

The place is full of reclaimed, mismatched, furniture, as you would expect. The most ridiculously hipsterish thing, though? The menus.

The were hidden in DVD covers.

Anyway, considering the name of the place (or just cos we’re drunks), we ordered martinis; my drinking companion having the Deviltini (tequila, vermouth, olive brine, bitters and tabasco), myself going for a Lychee Martini (both $16).

I was pleased to find that what is usually a cloying drink actually had a bitterness to it that cut through the sugar. I don’t know if that was a credit to the vodka they used or an accident because they didn’t clean the glass properly. Whatever it was, it was marvellous. When I went to try the Deviltini, my drinking partner warned me, “Careful of the salt”. Indeed, it was rather briny. I was rather disappointed that there was very little spice, despite tabasco being listed as an ingredient. FOR SHAME.

I lied. This was the most hipsterish thing in the venue:

A fucking ukelele on the wall.

We decided one more drink and home. We were gonna choose Moose Bar, across the road from Bench, as the final stop. until we discovered they not only had Innocent Bystander Moscato at the ridiculous price of $20 for a 375mL bottle, but had ridiculously gendered cocktails:

HAHAHA NEWTOWN HAS LOTS OF LESBIANS THAT’S WHY THIS IS FUNNY.

Yeah.

So, we hightailed it out of there and walked down to the Union Hotel.

I hadn’t been in a VERY long time. It used to be an old man pub. Now they’re serving $13.50 jugs of Monteith’s Apple Cider. Oh, HELL YES.

We managed to spend the time having a good ol’ chat while sitting on a few glasses of cider, so it was well worth its value.

We decided that was enough for the night and jumped on the 11:09 train back to Marrickville. Money well spent. Thank you SOUTH KING STREET. YES. THAT’S HOW YOU SPELL IT AND SAY IT. SOUTH KING STREET. FUCK YOU HIPSTER FUCKS.

The owner, however, is not a hipster fuckwit, but someone who is serious about their coffee and providing a good customer experience in somewhat limited surroundings. I think I have figured out which one of the baristas is the owner. Of course, I haven’t bloody asked. That would have made sense.

A quick Google search has revealed they are connected to The Bunker in Darlinghurst, which is where I used to get my coffee while at my old job. Weird.

My test of any place that serves coffee is to see how well they do a soy flat white.

Soy Flat White, $4.50

They do Campos blends, which is was what attracted me in the first place. In the first few weeks of visiting, there was too much soy flavour (hey, it’s not Bonsoy, so it’s bound to be a bad thing) and not enough coffee. Now, either the machine or the baristas have hit their stride and I get a full-bodied and flavourful coffee every time. 10 out of fucking 10.

With such a limited space in which to prepare food, don’t expect to go in there and get a full meal. They have coffee, juice, sandwiches, and cakes, and that’s about it. However, like any good chef says, as long as you have good ingredients to start off with, you can create something great.

Over the past month or so, the Little Miss and I have been in quite a few times. I find it much easier to get her breakfast on the way to day care, rather than feeding her at home and waiting for the infinite number of pauses while she watches a really captivating part of Lazytown to finish her toast. We always end up late as a result. Spending a few dollars on breakfast out means we not only get quality time together, but we’re not rushed.

Anyway, here’s what we’ve consumed:

Toast with spreads, $4.50

My child is obsessed with Vegemite. She will eat the leftovers out of the little ramekin. She is mental. However, she won’t eat just any old toast. I am familiar with Brasserie Bread well enough to know that’s where all their bread, cakes and pastries are from. Well chosen supplier, I must say. My 3 year old approves.

Avocado and Lemon on Quinoa and Soya Toast, $8.50

This sounds rather boring on the menu and seems a little overpriced as a result. When it arrives at your table, however, all is forgiven. You’re given wedges of lemon to squeeze over your avocado at your discretion and a little jar of olive oil. There is sea salt and pepper mills already on the table. If this is not perfection in simple breakfast form, I don’t know what is.

One morning when I ordered this meal, they ran out the back to find me a better avocado, because the one they opened was overripe. Most places in Sydney would just serve it to you and expect you to be grateful. I was very impressed by their dedication to high quality service.

Ham and Cheese Croissant, $7

Ah, simple, but bloody brilliant. They use Ormiston Free Range Ham, which is damn tasty, I must say. No idea what the cheese is, but it’s perfect. All on a Brasserie Bread croissant. Fantastic.

Hmmm. It appears I’ve lost the photo of the Tomato and Goat’s Cheese on Toast, $8.50, because my iDevice is a cunt. Anyway, it was good. The goat’s cheese was nothing to write home about, but the tomato was lovely and ripe. Good stuff.

Coconut Tea Cake, $4

I’m pretty sure these come from Brasserie Bread as well. Yes, I am a terrible parent who lets her 3 year old have cake for breakfast. Piss off.

There’s not just fantastic, simple, food, there are the little touches as well – like the way in which the Little Miss’ warm milk is presented to her each time. She never grows tired of it.

Warm milk, $1

This cafe is a fantastic place to bring kids. They even handled it well when the Little Miss spewed. To her credit, she got most of it back on the plate.

For the adults, they also do cold drip coffee. I haven’t had the time to sit down and sample some, yet. I’m too busy trying to get the Little Miss to eat her breakfast.

All in all, it’s a fantastic spot to grab a coffee and a sandwich and I am SO VERY GLAD they have opened.

The Wolf and Honeybee
Cnr Alice St and Edgeware Rd
Newtown/Enmore/Marrickville/St Peters/I don’t know, do you?

Open 7 days, as far as I know.

My understanding is that this soup is like a Minestrone al Pesto (if you hadn’t guessed already, ‘Pistou’ is French for pesto) and hails from the Provence region. Just like many of these traditional recipes, every region, town, street and family has their own variation. This is mine.

Ingredients

2 carrots, chopped small (but not fine)
1 large onion, chopped finely
1 leek, white part only, sliced finely (apparently this should not be included, as the soup must only have summer vegetables. Mine does. Sue me.)
2 ribs celery, chopped small
500g fresh peas (for all fresh beans, you end up with about 200-250g after podding)
500g broad beans, podded
500g fresh borlotti beans, podded (for Inner Westies, Banana Joes in Marrickville has a ready supply)
300g green beans, chopped into 1 inch pieces
3 zucchini, chopped small
2 potatoes, chopped small
1 bunch kale, stripped from the ribs, chopped finely
1 tin chopped tomatoes
Bay leaves, sprigs of thyme and parsley stalks, tied up in a bouquet garni (or just dumped into the pot. See below)

Pistou

1 bunch basil, picked
3 cloves garlic, chopped
Olive oil
Salt

Grated Parmesan or Parmagiano Reggiano to serve

Method

1. Place a big pot on a low to medium flame and pour in a good lug of olive oil. Gently cook the carrot, celery, onion and leek until the onion is translucent. If you’ve got kitchen string and muslin, chuck you bouquet garni in with it. If not, chop the parsley stalks finely, pick the thyme leaves off and chuck them and the bay leaves in with the mirepoix.

2. Add the podded beans and let them cook for a bit. I let them it sit over a low flame and mixed it occasionally while I chopped up the potato and zucchini.

3. Add water. I think I added about 2-3 litres. I can’t remember. Add enough to cover it when you turn it up enough to boil.

4. After it has reached boiling point, turn back down to an excited simmer (this is a thing!) and added the zucchini, potato and chopped tomatoes. Top up with more water if it doesn’t look soupy enough.

5. Take your basil and garlic and whiz it in a food processor. If you don’t have one, use a mortar and pestle. If you don’t have one of them, you’re dead to me. If you decide that buying a jar of pre-made pesto is a good idea, I will find you and burn your house down. Add enough olive oil so that it looks like a smooth paste, but not a sauce. Season to taste and put in a sterilised jar. Cover with a cm of oil (and the lid) once you’ve served it with the soup. Store in the fridge. I have no idea how long it will last, but mine kept for about a week. You may be able to keep it longer, I don’t know. Just don’t come crying to me when you have botulism.*

6. When everything looks cooked, add the kale and season with salt and pepper to taste. Adding the kale last means that it retains its flavour and doesn’t end up being tasteless pieces of string.

7. Once the kale has wilted, take the pot off the heat.

8. Ladle the soup into bowls, grate Parmesan over it and put a dollop of Pistou on top. The idea is that you mix the Parmesan and Pistou through the soup before eating.

*You know how you buy a whole bunch of basil and you’re like, “Fuck yeah, my pasta sauce is gonna be awesome with three basil leaves in it!”, and have no idea what to do with the rest? This is what you do. It means you have a basilly-garlicky combo you can add to pasta dishes or soups, such as this one. Or put on meat. Or on your face. Whatever floats your boat.**

***The little red blob in the picture is Jolokia paste. I only recommend adding that if you’re not concerned with keeping it authentic, you like chilli, and/or are insane.

No fuss, no fancy signage, no deals, just pork rolls. Well, there’s also chicken, tuna, pork meatball, BBQ pork (which is weird red shit that resembles no BBQ pork I’ve ever seen. Tastes good, apparently), pork skin and, finally, salad rolls. But most of us stick with the pork roll.

There is very little room for the staff to make the rolls and even less for customers to wait for them, but people still come and will stand in a line going up the street just for these rolls – I even saw Neil Perry standing in the line with his daughter once. Hong Ha Bakery, eat your fucking heart out.

Once they’ve finished making your roll, you’re handed this little package of lunch time heaven.

Inside is a crispy baguette, sharp enough to cut your gums, with your chosen meat and a variety of salad fillings.

So what’s in it?

Your roll is smeared with what I *think* is mayo, but it looks a lot like margarine, and pate of unknown origin. They usually place the meat of your choice in first, then add a carrot/onion mix, a large baton of cucumber, and equally long piece of spring onion, sprigs of coriander, and chilli, if you prefer. This is topped off with two different sauces, both thin and brown in appearance, but I have no idea what they are. One of them could be fish sauce. Or soy. I really have no idea.

The best part about ordering a pork roll is that you get four different kinds of ‘pork’. I really have no idea what they are, they are just four differently coloured pieces of processed meat. It could be anything. I don’t think the staff even know. It’s one of the great mysteries of life.

Of course, it goes without saying that the rolls are absolutely delicious. If Neil Perry will line up for one, they must be good.

We had no plan, so, when we saw Celini’s was not only fairly quiet, but the best seats in the house were available, we decided to give it a go.

We ordered coffees to start. I decided to take a risk with the soy flat white, which turned out to be a latte. Rightio.

It wasn’t poison.

My dining companion decided to go with the Double Turkish Coffee. It looked good, and tasted fine to me, but ‘wasn’t the best’ my dining companion ever had. That’s fair, I guess.

I really like the way the beverages are brought out in Turkish-style trays by the waitstaff. It really adds to the atmosphere.

We were both intrigued by the idea of the ‘Traditional Turkish Breakfast’ dishes on the menu, so decided to get one each. They were having a special on the Traditional Anatolian Breakfast ($11), of which the waitress told me was simply a smaller size than the menu version, so I decided to give it a go.

Wow. The picture does not do the flavour justice. The eggs are scrambled with feta and cooked to perfection. The presentation of the tomato and cucumber salad is a bit daggy, but who gives a shit? The flavour is tremendous. It is perfectly set off with toasted Turkish bread and olives.

My dining companion went with the Traditional Menemen ($16.50), simply because it included chilli.

Again, wow. The presentation really doesn’t get you as excited as you should be about this dish. The eggs are scrambled with capsicum, tomato and chilli and served with cucumber, feta, olives and toasted Turkish bread. I must admit, as good as my breakfast was, I was a little jealous. I’m ordering that next time, for sure.

For the Little Miss, I ordered some toasted banana bread ($5.90) but only asked for one slice, as I knew she wasn’t going to eat all of it. I’m not sure if they discounted it or not. Don’t think so.

Although it doesn’t say it on the menu, the banana bread looked house made to me. It certainly doesn’t look like the mass-produced version you see in most cafes, anyway. It was lovely, as well. They should really be tooting their own horn here. House made banana bread in a cafe is a rarity. Of course, I could be wrong. This idiot forgot to ask.

You’ll be relieved to know the Little Miss approved. As predicted, she only ate half. Two slices would have been too much. They would have been too much for an adult, I think.

If your offspring is a little more adventurous than mine, they have a Kid’s Breakfast, which is a fried egg on toast with bacon and sausage, for $9. They also only have freshly squeezed juices, which is a major win in my books.

Oh yeah, the toilet is a bit of a hike – out the back, up the stairs and around the corner. It’s a pain in the arse if your little one decides she needs to go TWICE.

Regardless, it’s a minor irritation and I can’t wait to go back again and try one of the other traditional Turkish breakfasts. I think with the next test of their skill, I should throw them in the deep end – fixing my hangover.

Celini’s Licensed Cafe & Restaurant
220 Marrickville Rd
Marrickville 2204
Ph: 9569 4848
Email: celinis.mrckvle@bigpond.com

Opening hours (at time of writing this scintillating post):
Breakfast
Mon to Sun 8am – 4pm
Lunch
Mon to Sun 8am – 4pm
Dinner
Tue to Sat 5pm – 10pm

I know, I know, it sounds weird. Don’t be put off. Just give it a try.

I’ve only made this curry a few times, but it’s one of my favourites. I found it *somewhere*, I just can’t remember where. I rehashed the recipe based on my knowledge of Indian cooking, so I don’t think it’s anything like the original except for the main ingredients. I apologise to the original author for forgetting who you are.

This curry has got loads of protein in it from the egg and paneer, which makes it the perfect vegetarian dish. So, yeah, it’s not vegan friendly, but will definitely have meat eaters asking for seconds.

Ingredients

6 eggs, hardboiled, cooled, peeled and cut in half
200g (I think) pkg paneer, cut into 1x2cm cubes
2-3 cups frozen peas
1-2 tins crushed tomatoes
1 medium onion, chopped finely
4 garlic cloves, chopped finely
1-3 dried chillies, rehydrated in boiling water, chopped finely
20 curry leaves
1 bay leaf
1 tbs black mustard seeds
1 tbs ground cumin
1 tbs ground coriander
1 tbs turmeric powder
1 cinnamon quill
2 tsp pepper
Juice of half a lemon
Salt to taste

Boiled rice, to serve

Method

1. If you could be arsed, grind the onion, garlic and rehydrated chillies into a paste. If not, it doesn’t really matter. It makes it seem more authentic, but I don’t think it adds that much to the flavour – mainly the texture. It’s just a bit of fun.

2. Cook the onion, garlic and chilli in canola oil on a medium heat. Once soft, at the mustard seeds, curry leaves, bay leaf and cinnamon quill. Once they start to pop, add the spices. Take care with the heat, as burned spices will make the curry taste like cack.

3. Add the paneer and coat in the spices. If the paneer browns, that’s all the better. If it doesn’t, don’t panic.

4. Add one can of tinned tomatoes. Simmer for about 10 minutes. If the sauce doesn’t look like it’s enough to coat 6 eggs, add the other tin and simmer for a further 10-15 minutes. I honestly can’t remember if there were 1 or 2 tins involved the last time I made it. Wine may have been involved.

5. Add the peas, still frozen, preferably. The residual water, that which doesn’t evaporate, should make the sauce just that little bit more loose.

6. Add the eggs, turning them gently in the sauce, so as not to break them up and end up with a weird eggy mess.

7. Season with salt. A lot. Well, not necessarily a lot, but don’t be afraid of it.

8. Turn the heat off, squeeze the lemon juice over and mix well. Remove the bay leaf and cinnamon quills if you’re paranoid about accidentally chomping down on them.

9. Serve in bowls on top of boiled or steamed rice.

Anyway, Tra Mi is first on the list, as it was second closest to my house. Why I didn’t choose the first closest, I don’t know.

The décor is simple and reminiscent of many restaurants in Southeast Asia that I’ve been to. I usually take it as a sign that the food they make is good, but humble, and not every fucker has heard of it yet.

We were immediately served complementary tea, which is a standard service in most Vietnamese restaurants. Truth be told, if I don’t get tea, I feel my meal is somewhat incomplete.

After I excitedly (well, with as much energy as I could muster with the dreaded ‘flu) ordered my Pho, I ordered the Fresh Lemonade, which I fondly remember from my trips to Southeast Asia as being extremely refreshing in the oppressive humidity.

Sadly, it was WAY too sweet. I’m used to it being lemon juice and water on ice, with sugar on the side for you to mix in yourself. Maybe it’s been Aussiefied, I dunno.

One of my dining companions ordered an Iced Coffee, traditionally made with condensed milk. My dining companion slammed it down fast and told me delightfully that it was ‘strong’. I take it the drink exceeded expectations. Possibly because of the awesome straw.

We ordered an entrée off the Specials menu, Lucky Money Bags ($9).

I assume they were lucky because they were had seafood in them. They were essentially one king prawn surrounded by vermicelli noodles and carrot. My dining companions loved them, but they didn’t really do it for me.

We were supplied with a plate of the usually condiments – Vietnamese mint, bean sprouts and wedges of lemon. Must to our dismay, however, there was no chopped fresh chilli.

Having said that, I was impressed by the number of condiments provided on the table – fish sauce, chilli, soy, etc.. There were plenty of chilli products for us to partake in, but, without the chopped fresh chilli plunked right into the soup, it’s just not the same.

My disappointment was short-lived, however, because then… The Pho came (Rare Beef Pho, $9).

It was like shovelling liquid gold into my stuffed up head. Admittedly, the pleasure I took from doing so in my weakened state my have influenced my opinion, but I firmly believe this Pho was well executed – perfectly seasoned soup, razor-thin beef, HEE-YUGE bowl of perfectly cooked noodles and as well presented as a soup can be.

My other half chose the Special Noodle Soup (Pho Bac Diet, $10) and was very pleased with the balls of mystery meat that looked like Chum. No, that’s cool, I don’t need to taste it. It’s all yours.

Our dining companion chose the Vermicelli Noodles with Spring Rolls, BBQ Pork and Salad (Bun Cha Gio Thit Nuong, $12), which I didn’t get to taste, but seemed to go down a treat. The serving size was also massive, and, despite how tasty the meal was, it couldn’t be finished.

All in all, I was quite impressed by the quality of the food, service and value for money. We ended up getting a few dollars knocked off the bill – I dunno if they just liked us or figured one of us was going to blog the experience because we kept taking photos. Everyone’s a fucking food blogger these days, aren’t they?

Tra Mi Vietnamese Restaurant
275 Marrickville Road
Marrickville NSW 2204
(02) 9560 2032

This is why the Little Miss and I will grab sushi from a little place right near her day care on our way home. Horror of horrors, one night this week it was shut. I hate to disappoint her, as she loves ‘getting soo-shi!’. Thankfully, Sakae Japanese Kitchen has recently opened just up the road from us in Marrickville.

While my Little Miss may enjoy the outing, the regular ingredients in sushi are things she is not necessarily a fan of. They didn’t have it on the menu, but, thank christ, they were able to make her favourite, a Cooked Tuna Thin Roll ($5) especially for her.

Of which, she ate the filling and left the seaweed skin behind. Luckily for her, it didn’t ‘have any stuff in it’, like spring onion. She prefers plain old tuna with sweet Japanese mayonnaise, which is exactly what she got.

Being a little more adventurous than a 3 year old, I decided to try the Unatama Don ($12.80), which, according to the menu, is ‘Specially cooked eel with onion and egg on top of rice’.

It was exactly what I was looking for. Very comforting on a cold winter’s night. Rather sweet, but a dash of soy (kindly sloshed into one of the bowls by my darling daughter) fixed that. Eel can be rather strong, so if you’re after something mild, go for the chicken.

As I was distracted by my Little Miss trying to pour soy sauce into everything, I hadn’t read the menu properly and was pleasantly surprised to find my meal came with a bowl of miso soup.

The best part of my meal was the drink. I was intrigued by the Ramune, described as ‘Japanese Sprite’ on the menu. Turns out it’s an old style glass drink bottle with a marble you pop out instead of a lid. FUCK YEAH!

To top it all off, the staff are amazingly friendly and efficient. Sakae Japanese Kitchen are a welcome addition to Marrickville and make for an awesome quick stop off on the way home. 5 stars, Margaret.

EDIT: I’ve been back since and order this little beauty – Salmon Teriyaki ($18). It was called by another name, but I can’t remember now. It came with cabbage salad and mashed potato, of all things. I remarked to my dining companion that I managed to order the most Irish thing on the menu.

To put it simply, it was divine. I can definitely recommend it.

Do they do good coffee?

Well, I drank all of it, so it couldn’t have been poison. It wasn’t the best I’ve ever had, though. I couldn’t tell which brand they were using, either. Probably should have asked.

I think the toys they supply to keep the kids entertained is probably what kept me there long enough to order food. I fucking love it when I find a cafe with toys. I’ll even go to shit cafes if I know my 3 year old will be entertained.

So, do they do good food?

They get an A for effort, but a C for execution. I loved the idea of Eggs Florentine on Potato Fritters ($14.50, special of the day), but it was lacking in a few areas. The woody ends of the asparagus hadn’t been trimmed properly (also, it’s not in season). They deserve praise for making their own Hollandaise, but it was a little too heavy on the vinegar. Also, the dish had surprise mushrooms. Not that I care, but some people are allergic, or just don’t like them. They should make sure all staff are aware of these sorts of things. The potato fritters were good, but not great. It was a cooked grated potato and carrot mix. It seemed a little too moist.

All in all, what’s coming out of the kitchen are dishes designed by someone who understands good food, but doesn’t have the technical skill to pull it off.

Will I buy again? Yes. It’s reasonably priced, they welcome children and the food and coffee doesn’t suck.

Marrickville Rd Cafe
u1/212 Marrickville Road
Marrickville NSW 2204
(02) 9568 5485

Given that, it’s not like any of you need a recipe to follow, but I’ve decided to document mine anyway. I’ve incorporated bits and pieces from other recipes I’ve come across, from Mum to Heston Blumenthal, and think I’ve come up with the definitive at-home recipe for Spag. Bol.. You may disagree, but that’s neither here nor there.

Soffritto
Every stew or sauce or ragu should start with a soffritto – diced onion, carrot and celery. I’ve added garlic in there, too, and it’s cooking gently with a large lug of olive oil.

50% free range wagyu beef, 50% free range pork
A large number of countries in Europe use two different kinds of meat (or more) when making a sauce, stew or stuffing for vegetables. Whether this comes from an understanding of the way the fats and textures of the meats work together, or just a case of using what was available, I’m not sure. What I do know is that half wagyu beef, half pork (so, around 250g of each), makes an awesome sauce. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to photograph me doing so for the purpose of this post, as you only see wagyu here.

Make sure you buy organic or free range from sustainable farms! I can’t stress this enough. If you live in the Inner West, make sure you get it from Urban Food Market. Tim Elwin knows his suppliers and chooses only those he can guarantee are ethical and sustainable. Well, that’s what he told me, anyway.

I would normally put in about 100g of free range bacon, speck or pancetta at this stage, too, but I wasn’t able to while making my last batch. I’m poor! Don’t judge me!

Tinned tomatoes and tomato passata

Everyone knows Bolognese sauce needs tomatoes. Some people use fresh tomatoes. I don’t know who they are, but they are mental. From what I’ve seen, most Italian stews and sauces would use passata made from last summer’s tomato crop. What I find gives me the best taste is 2 tins of tomatoes and about a third to half a bottle of passata. I’m not really sure on the exact amount, just enough so it looks… saucy.

Secret ingredients
These ingredients are in no way traditional and are used to bring out the umami flavour of the dish, which I think gives it a savoury edge that salt can’t bring by itself. Those two ingredients are…

Star anise…

… and fish sauce! About a tablespoon of.

Simmer, simmer, simmer, season

I would normally let the sauce simmer for about half and hour to and hour on low heat, but, if I am pressed for time and not after a meal that will blow my mind, I bring it up to the boil then simmer on medium heat for about 15-20 minutes. I won’t usually season until after then, because simmering reduces the amount of water in the sauce, which, obviously, increases the concentration of salt. You may end up with a dish that’s too salty as a result. That’s science. *nods knowingly*

And serve…

… on animal pasta shapes. I had bought it for my three year old, but she had already gone to bed and it was the only pasta I had left. We be sophistimacated. I topped it with large amounts of grated Grana Padano, which I think is not supposed to go on top of pasta, but, whatever.