Pilu at Freshwater
I’m a proud Australian. I love this country enormously.
What I didn’t know about myself until recently was that my sense of patriotism is just as strong for certain smaller areas within Australia. I was born in Canberra and, even though I left when I was very young, I still leap to its defence when it comes under attack from, well, most people, who seem to think it’s a hole.
I am not going to espouse the virtues of Canberra in this post though- what I am talking about is my love of Sydney, and more specifically, its northern suburbs. Now, finally, to my point- the new good food guide has just come out and as a long time denizen of Sydney’s northern beaches and north shore, the under-representation of areas north of bridge bothers me. To put it simply, this area needs more hats. Lots more hats. I’m not prepared to call bullshit as I’m sure the integrity of the reviewers is beyond reproach, so the only possible conclusion I can reach is that there is, simply, a dearth of really good places to eat. For instance, unless I have miscounted or missed one, only four of the 48 Sydney restaurants that have one or more hats exist north of the bridge. Four. Out of 48.
Given my irrational, emotional connection to Sydney’s north, it should come as no surprise that at five visits, Pilu is my most-frequented of any hatted restaurant. Other reasons for having made it to this total involves my nervousness when driving in the city and also a kind of apprehension I have towards people in the CBD, who can seem quite pretentious and rude. If you don’t believe me, go to the Ivy on a Friday night and marvel at how it stands without a single egalitarian brick in its structure.
None of this in the northern beaches though. There it is all smiles and sunshine, and nowhere more so than at Pilu, which is situated bang on freshwater beach. It has just achieved its highest ever score in the good food guide, so was it better than the other times I’d visited? Maybe, apart from the first time, which was the best, as is often the case in life.
On this occasion, however, I was going solo. This isn't a rare event as far as I’m concerned, it's just the unfortunate consequence of being food obsessed and having few friends who share the same enthusiasm or willingness to spend much money on a meal. A friend asked recently if it bothers me to go to restaurants by myself and I answered 'yes.. but only a little'. And yet I totally think people who go to movies by themselves are losers. At any rate, it was a beautiful day that I visited, and with a book and a view over the beachfront and to the water on the horizon, I was pretty pleased with myself.
As for the food, I had come with the intention of trying their lunch special, which includes 3 courses for $55. As soon as I was seated and presented with a menu however, i backflipped like a post-election politician- what was on the regular a la carte menu just looked so much more appealing. I performed a quick assessment of my hunger levels and decided I was fairly hungry, but not ravenous, which makes my menu choices all the more baffling – you see, I don’t think it would have been possible to choose a heavier 3-course offering than what I decided upon that day.
To start with was the Zuppa Gallurese, which was on of the daily specials. Not so much of a soup as it is a bowl of lamb-stock sodden sourdough punctuated throughout with long, stringy strands of pecorino and finely chopped mint, presented in a little copper pot. This was rich, hearty and warming, and I always enjoy the irony of provincial peasant dishes, such as duck confit, getting to enjoy a renaissance as a fine dining staple, with cashed up foodies paying top dollar for poor person food. I wonder if in fifty years time we'll be seeing dagwood dogs and meat pies in the michelin-starred tables of the future. Probably not.
Once I had finished scraping the last burned cheesy bits off the side of the dish, I realised I was no longer hungry. I also knew, however, that I wasn’t going to let a small matter like that get in the way of a meal, though I’ll admit I did question whether I should have ordered something lighter for a main course than hanger steak rubbed with porcini salt, with semolina gnocco and braised ox tail.
I had ordered the hanger steak as I was curious about this particular cut of meat, which seems to be in vogue in Sydney restaurants at the moment and is famed for its unique flavour. As I tucked into the dish, I realised that I was glad I had read this about the meat, as I would doubtless have attributed its strong, offal-ish flavour to, well, poor storage or something. The semolina gnoccho turned out to be a wedge of fried polenta and added a necessary carbohydratey element to the dish, while the dollops of braised oxtail acted as a rich sauce for the dish. I really liked this dish, and was satisfied, no actually, a bit stuffed afterwards. It probably didn’t help that I’d also had a couple of bread rolls while waiting for my entrée, but the thing is, if there is food in front of me, I’ll eat it. I could blame this on my upbringing and say that my parents hated seeing food go to waste, but the truth is that I’m basically just greedy.
It was this greed, then, that led me to then demand to see the dessert menu, though it was really less of a demand and more of a muffled, gluttony groan. In my previous visits I’d always insisted on getting the vanilla bean pannacotta with abbamele (like honey, but better), but at that point it seemed like a far too light and airy option. Imagining myself as an endurance athlete, a marathon runner perhaps, and with the strains of 'chariots of fire' playing in my head, i decided to plunge for glory and order the Amadei chocolate and hazelnut semifreddo with chocolate sorbet and caramelised hazelnuts. Another thing i love about Pilu is how their commitment to Italian produce is present throughout, from the wine list to the chocolate used in the desserts. Fortunately, Amadei happens to be a brilliant chocolate. The dense, creamy cylinder of semifreddo looked incredibly appealing, and a bit intimidating, when it arrived in front of me. Summoning my courage, i laid seige to the tower, and it soon crumbled under the sheer force of my greed.
Forgoing tea or coffee, i paid the bill and left with a smug, self-satisfied feeling and gladdened at my triumph over a surfeit of excellent, excellent food.
Zuppa Gallurese
Rangers Valley hanger steak rubbed with porcini salt, with semolina gnocco and braised ox tail
Amedei chocolate and hazelnut semifreddo with chocolate sorbet and caramelised hazelnuts