Galileo

It was 7.30pm on a tuesday night. A friend and I were deciding what to do that evening. The wind had picked up and the thick, humid breeze was redolent of ozone. Shaken from our usual post-work torpor by the magic of an impending thunderstorm, we resolved to do something exciting and impulsive. Unfortunately, you can't really plan to do something impulsive, that's just not how these things work- not that this basic contradiction occurred to us at the time.

So, inevitably bereft of ideas, we did as any other Gen Y would do under the circumstances, and turned to google. After 5 minutes google searching phrases such as 'fun things to do' we suddenly awoke to our own shameful lameness. That was when my friend decided that we would stay in a hotel; a nice one, in the city. Like children, we'd been spurred into action by the excitement of a thunderstorm, and so it seemed fitting that our plan for a fun evening revolved around a sleepover, which of course is the most fun a kid can have. Also, now that we had credit cards, it could be in a fancy hotel. The childish whimsy of the decision almost made me feel better about having to google 'fun', which had had me concerned I was 25 going on 50.

Our decision made, we booked ourselves a room in at the Observatory hotel and packed our bags in record time. On the way, I remembered that the restaurant Galileo was inside the hotel, and so, moments after arriving in our room and hurriedly refreshing ourselves, we were back in the hotel foyer, sheepishly enquiring as to whether there was a table free for the two of us. There was, and having been seated, we decided to take advantage of the $49 2-course special, along with a nice bottle of pinot noir, which we chose not because of its vintage or any other sensible concern, but because it sounded nice. We know almost nothing about wine, see. What I do know about, however, is food, and the menu was packed with interesting and delicious-sounding dishes that made me ruefully consider that I was limited to but two of them. To my advantage, however, my friend knows considerably less about food than I, so was happy to take my advice as to what she should order, based, ostensibly, on the knowledge of what she likes to eat and what I believed she'd like. The net result of this arrangement was that I ordered for myself the nicest sounding dish and for her, my second preference.

Entrees then, were the following:

Kingfish Confit with Avocado, Tomato and Soy and Wasabi dressing

Quail Confit with Lentil salad and a Port reduction

Both were beautiful dishes. The kingfish was top notch, all of the accompaniments worked perfectly and i was pleased that the rectangular wedge of avocado tasted as beautiful as it looked. The quail with lentils and port featured more obvious flavour combinations, though was no less successful in its execution. Things were off to a very good start. Next, the mains:

Roasted Lamb Rack a la Yomo

Duck and Foie Gras Pie

Lamb 'a la Yomo' had me perplexed, but some quick iphone research at the table revealed that the restaurant's executive chef's surname is Yomoda. I'm not sure why he lent his name to this dish though, as it was probably the weakest of the dishes tried. It must be noted though, that although this was the least successful dish, it was still very nice indeed. In fact, the star of the dish, the lamb, was perfectly cooked and among the nicest I've ever tried. However, it was let down by the accompaniments, eggplant, tomato and a scattering of dukkah which, in my opinion, need not have appeared at all, though to be fair, this could be due to be aversion towards dukkah, which is a story for another day.

Ah, alright, I'll tell you the story now, it's not as though this blog isn't rambling enough anyway. You see, I was once dared to eat 13kg of carrots in three days to see whether or not I would turn orange. In the process, I found that the most palatable preparation was to bake the carrot with honey and dukkah. Ever since, I've found dukkah quite unpleasant, though I still enjoy carrots, strangely enough. Oh, and I didn't turn orange.

The other main we had ordered was something which had me very excited. A duck and foie gras pie seemed to me the ultimate in decadence. Buttery, flaky pastry, stuffed full of soft duck and smooth, silky foie gras, I spent a good five minutes thinking about how it could have possibly been made any richer or more luxurious and drew a blank. Smear it with peanut butter and wrap it in bacon perhaps? Or fry it in goose fat? Elvis-esque suggestions aside, it was cleverly paired with a zingy orange sauce which helped to cut through the intensity of the other ingredients and partnered nicely with the duck. In summary, It was as gutsy and ballsy a dish as I've ever tried and is something I'd glady try again.

Quite full by now and not overly tempted by the dessert menu we paid our bill and retired to our room, sleeping well, then waking up to the apocalypse.

Why, Lord, did you tempt me with that duck and foie gras pie? Surely my wolfing down of the dish was the textbook describtion of biblical gluttony?

Ok, so it was just that Sydney dust storm. But if it had been judgement day, I'd probably have left feeling satisfied after a nice night of good company and good food, experiences which for most of us are too far in between and which we should always be grateful for.