Food Stuff: Vue De Monde

Vue De Monde

A couple of weeks ago, while watching masterchef, i realised that there is a strong Victorian presence in the show, from George Calombaris and Matt Preston, to many of its more insufferable contestants.

Insufferable contestants notwithstanding, i was drawn to the conclusion that this strong presence in what has been billed as 'the search for Australia's best amateur cook', combined with ceaseless boastful bleating of Melburnians claiming theirs as the food capital of Australia means that i must venture south to see if these claims had substance.

My first port of call - almost literally, as i arrived there only a couple of short hours after my plane had touched down- was Vue De Monde, renowned as Melbourne's consistantly best restaurant, akin to Sydney's Tetsuya's, I supposed. Having such a reputation carries with it a serious burden of expectation, however, I was determined to not let this colour my interpretation of the experience and simply enjoy each course as it came.

My first impression of the restaurant was that it was really rather small, set to accommodate far fewer patrons that i had imagined- this was to be explained by one friendly waiter later on that this was in line with the restaurant's philosophy of delivering a personalised dining experience for each individual. This philosophy was made apparent upon my being seated and approached by my waiter, who proceeded to enquire as to what food, and in what quantities, i would like to be served. Slightly ill at ease with this staged theatre, and realising that the comfort of a printed menu was certainly not forthcoming, i stammered that i was there to see what the restaurant had to offer, so we agreed for me to be served five savoury courses, after which point he would return to see how i would like to proceed from there. The benefit of this system of dining though, was that i was completely unaware of what dishes i would be served throughout the course of the meal, and i do like surprises.

To begin was an amuse bouche, scallop osso with a champagne flute of angelica veloute. When i was a lot younger I never understood why someone would take something as naturally sublime as an oyster, lobster, or in this instance, a scallop, and cover it with bacon, cheese or worcestershire sauce, that is, until i realised that these particular dishes were usually found in casino buffets and the lesser establishments within the fish markets; from this i concluded, quite rightly, that oftentimes this was done in order to mask the lack of freshness of the core ingredient. It was something i have never reconciled with, and seeing this poor scallop before me, unrecognisable from its original state, brought horridly vivid flashes of bain maries and cheap packet cheese slathered over halved lobsters.

Shaking myself back to reality, i realised i was in a top restaurant and whatever concerns i may have had over the freshness of this ingredient were clearly ill founded, and to be honest, I did enjoy this, though i was slightly perplexed by the presence of the veloute- was i to take the scallop and combine it with a sip of the veloute in my mouth? Was i to drop the scallop into the glass and swallow the lot in one gulp? As it was, i ate the scallop and then proceeded to drink the veloute from the flute. It didn't really combine fantastically and certainly was not mind blowing. Maybe i wasn't doing it right.

Less confusing, at least, though, was the terrific selection of breads and gorgeous echire butter which i nibbled on prior to the arrival of my first course. I'm a huge fan of butter, and for me, this was a whole new standard . I'm not sure where or how to acquire this butter, but i'm going to find out.

So up next was the 'salade de jicama'. I had never tried 'Jicama' (it turns out, it's yam), but in this dish, paired with abaloine, yuzu and watermelon, stunning though the presentation was, the overwhelming flavour was watermelon. Sure, it was bright and refreshing, but i had to wonder about the chef's decision to serve such a dish in the middle of a melbourne winter.

In negotiating my meal with my waiter earlier, i had agreed to pay the additional money for the 'truffle supplement', the cost of which i had to press the waiter for after his consistent attempts to sell me the virtues of this special ingredient. Perhaps, in the milieu of this establishment, it is rather gauche to be so concerned with the topic of money, but it turned out to be $60, which is a not inconsiderable amount, and as such i found it slightly disingenuous that this information was not made apparent at the introduction of his spiel.

Anyway, i decided that the money was worth it for what is often considered to be VDM's signature dish and so was rather excited about the truffle risotto which was to arrive next, especially with the arrival of the truffle and its subsequent grating at my table. I was not disappointed: deep, rich, earthy, slightly sour and complex, this was an absolute hit. The truffle aside, the risotto was also cooked to absolute perfection - this was probably the second best risotto of my life (first is the white truffle risotto at London's Locanda Locatelli), and i eat a lot of risottos.

Next up was a french-toasted brioche, foie gras mousse, 5 spice powder, serrano jamon and green apple puree. While the jamon was beautifully soft, salty and yeasty, and the foie gras mousse silky and rich, i didn't understand or appreciate their being paired with a saccharine french toast brioche and a green apple puree which, despite being coloured green, failed to deliver any of the granny smith's crisp sourness and was instead also rather too sweet.

Up next was another theatre piece: a plate delivered to my table covered by a glass dome, which, through which a beautiful piece of trout could be glimpsed amongst the swirling smoke inside. The dome was lifted, the smoke dissipated, and the dish was explained as ocean trout, smoked at the table with coconut husk, which burned down to create a piece of charcoal, which, i was reassured, was edible, though it my understanding that it is usually only consumed under the supervision of a medical professional when it is being employed as an agent to soak up poisons in a person's stomach. The spectre of the scallop flashed before me as i contemplated the waiter's enthusiastic encouragements for me to eat the charcoal. Anyway, this was a magnificently fresh and generously sized piece of trout. It was prepared sous vide, which i usually don't care for, but in this instance it was superbly textured, with a perfect amount of smokiness. Loved it. Will wonders never cease? Not with the david copperfield magic of the palate cleanser which followed - liquid verjus which had been kept at -8 degrees celsius, but through the physics wizardly of continuous vibration, had prevented the water molecules from solidifying - until, that is, it was poured out of the beaker into the martini glass set before me and appeared to rise in a spectacular crysalline column - for an instant - before impotently flopping over and vanishing into the chilled hibiscus tea. An interesting technique i suppose, but i'm not sure that the extra eight degress of coldness carried with them a corresponding amount of additional refreshment to justify the gimmickry.

Still, a palate cleanser usually means a strong dish to follow, and this was what i suppose could be termed a main course - lamb lion, rillette and sweetbread with a sherry reduction and a cylindrical potato crisp. This was terrific, not overly complicated, perfectly seasoned and plated with flair. These sentiments could also be used to describe the dish which was to follow, which arrived after the promised visit from the waiter to help determine my path through the cheese and dessert options now open to me. I opted for one cheese dish and two desserts.

So, the aformentioned dish, gouda with carrot, was, well, exactly that. Immaculately sliced layers of carrot and a sweet, creamy gouda demonstrated an interesting and successful marriage of flavours combined with fine technique and superb plating.

Now onto the desserts:
The first pre-dessert came as a tall shot glass with an iced banana 'lollypop'. This was tasty and vibrant. Less so, was the dessert to follow - a deconstructed pina colada comprised of coconut sorbet, caramelised pineapple with coconut sago pudding, accompanied with drops of intensely rum-flavoured jelly. As with my first dish of the day, i again called into question the rationale behind serving such a summer-themed dish at this time of year, but even so, i wouldn't have minded had the dish been amazing. Sadly, it was not. Naturally, pineapple, coconut and rum are ingredients which will combine well on the palate, and they did so here, but there was nothing particularly notable about this dish. It was nice, but nothing more.

The final dessert arrived after a fashion, with the waiter arriving to tell me that the chef was unhappy with how the final dish had turned out and had thus decided to do it again from scratch. Not that i minded the short wait, and i appreciated their being forthright and apologetic when it would have been too easy to pretend as though nothing had happened. At any rate, arriving in tandem with the dessert was a complimentary glass of muscatel, which i happily downed with the dish of almond parfait with nougat. As a final dish it was, again, quite nice, but not magnificent, though it must be said that at this point i was exceedingly full and as such probably did not appreciate the dish as much as i would have otherwise.

Bascially, i found that VDM's desire to deliver a fashionably unique dining experience means that there is bound to be a good deal of experimentation with flavours and textures. Unfortunately, i found that many of these simply did not work as well as intended, though there were still enough moments of brilliance to warrant my giving it another chance when i next head down to Melbourne.