Theatre Restaurants (Vue de Monde, not Dracula's)

Venue: Vue de Monde

Style: Modern French, Molecular Gastronomy

Address: Normanby Chambers, 430 Little Collins St, Melbourne [Google Maps]

Phone: (03) 9691 3888

Hours: Lunch Tue-Fri & Sun 12:00pm-2:00pm / Dinner Mon-Sat 6:00pm-11:00pm

Prices: Lunch Express $60 / A la carte 4 courses $150 / Gastronomes 10+ courses $250

Bookings: Absolutely necessary, can be made by telephone or online

Website: http://www.vuedemonde.com.au/

Note: Vue de Monde has since relocated to Level 55, Rialto, 525 Collins Street, Melbourne [Google Maps]

Once upon a dinner service, I was in the midst of explaining saltimbocca to a guest, when the head chef's voice came bellowing out of the bowels of the kitchen. "Nice work, genius. I'd get more value out of you as sixty kilos of mince than as a sous chef!" Stoicism was not his strong point and while the food he served was delicious, diners were regularly subjected to his theatrics, which occasionally turned into a front-of-house floorshow, provided we'd all been too busy to keep count of his vodka shots.

Melbourne's Vue de Monde was one of the first restaurants to introduce me to dining as adventure. Six years ago, I wrote that eating there had cemented my curiosity about food and my desire to step outside of my culinary comfort zone. VDM is the lovechild of the dining room and the circus, with all the promise of a formal meal service punctuated by moments of wonder and spectacle. And with a kitchen that is set up like a stage, lit up and imposing on the dining room, guests may marvel at chefs who juggle, tame wily sauces and traverse a tightrope of logistics, never breaking a sweat or resorting to Wyborowa-fuelled tirades (not during service, anyway).

Having been subjected to my rapturous blathering about The Culinary Temple over the years, an old friend of mine, newly arrived from New Zealand, suggested we pay VDM a visit. He didn't exactly have to twist my arm, as I always look forward to an opportunity to see what new dishes the kitchen has come up with (I didn't always feel so comfortable at VDM; the first time I visited, the opulence of the entrance hall alone made me feel small and unimportant – I was waiting for the maitre d' to address me in a manner similar to that which Homer Simpson is greeted with when he attempts to visit a swanky bar: "Good evening, sir. Would you please leave without a fuss right now?").

Show plate w/ Campari & soda

Fancy handmade chips with fancily dolloped dip

The amuse bouche ("mouth amusement") of smoked eel arrived in style atop a slab of rock. Encased in a thin shell of white chocolate and topped with black caviar, this taster was equal parts oily, smoky and creamy, with touches of sweetness and saltiness. Consider my palate primed.

Amuse bouche: Smoked eel w/ white chocolate and caviar

Our first course of whiting salad with summer vegetables, apple and roe is delicately crunchy and refreshing. The dish was also emblematic for me of VDM's shift even further away from French techniques and towards a more Japanese approach (as seen in Kaiseki meals, which I will rave about another time).

Salad of whiting, summer vegetables, apple and roe

I assume the hot new trend in restaurants for 2011 is pebbles as serving-ware, as our second course is placed before us atop a heated river stone. The main attraction, the marron, is a perfectly cooked piece of seafood, so delicious that I have to work to eat it slowly. The accompanying burnt butter sauce adds a toasted, creaminess to my mouthful of crayfish, but most interesting is the so-called crab sandwich, which tastes just like eating a ham and cheese croissant (the crab is sandwiched between cheese crisps). Delightful.

Marron on a hot river stone, spanner crab sandwich, brown butter emulsion

The circus kicks into high gear with an incredibly sexy, mystifying dish. The duck egg melted silkily across the plate when pierced, mingling in the mouth with the crunchiness of the baby leek. The baffling component was the olive oil, which had been transmogrified into a white powder that had the appearance of feta cheese but the mouthfeel of fairy floss. It melted against my tongue into rich lashings of olive oil flavour (the earth moved for my dining companion as well).

Fried duck egg, lamb sweetbreads, Pickled baby leeks, olive oil powder

We're treated to a palate cleanser of cucumber sorbet and elderflower granita, with a little frozen lime. Each ice-cold mouthful, acidic and sweet, is in sharp contrast to the decadence of the last course. The sugar content however is low, so as not to confuse this with a dessert. Wish they sold it in punnets - I'd be palate cleansing every chance I got.

Cucumber sorbet, elderflower granite, frozen lime

Bona fide theatrics: Human head course

With our palates reset to neutral, the parade of dishes resumes with a bejeweled salad of beetroot, topped with a succulent smoked bone marrow dressing. The beetroot is stunning in colour and has good texture, but is quite bland on its own.

Beetroot, smoked bone marrow

Gnawesome

The final savoury flourish for the evening puts to bed any possibility that I might ever become a full-fledged vegetarian. I already eat very little meat in general, but VDM's Blackmore wagyu beef cheek is too luscious an experience to pass up in this lifetime. Melting meat is set against crunchy root vegetables and full-flavoured herbs. Take a bite, close your eyes, enjoy the ride.

Blackmore wagyu beef cheek, leek

And so we veered off from the simplicity of well-cooked quality produce into the realm of experimentation. Our pre-dessert course stood out as my dining companion's favourite dish of the night. Out came one brown medicine bottle each, spewing dry ice and adorned with a paper straw. Our waiter set a plate in the centre of the table with red balls on sticks (cracking shells with ice-cream inside), sitting on piles of yellow candy. We were advised to roll the sticks in the yellow candy and then take a drink from the medicine bottles. The result? Mouthfuls of ice-cream with exploding pop rocks and the bittersweet jolt of home-made lemonade. It was a riot in the mouth, crackly and whimsical.

Frozen lolly, popping candy, house made lemonade

I'd already eye-humped our first dessert course, watching it go out to other tables. VDM's take on a pavlova is to deconstruct it and cascade it down the side of your plate, with individual components stuck on using meringue. Paper thin ribbons of cucumber hide little pieces of fresh kiwifruit and pineapple, with crunch and texture lent by strawberry chips. Bright mango ice-cream is flanked by berry sorbet and finished off with meringue shards.

Pavlova, 2007 Stellenrust Chenin d’Muscat, South Africa

Suckers that we are for classic French fare, we're pleased to find that our final course is a pretty, fluffy soufflé, with a well of chocolate ganache and a pool of crème anglaise, visibly speckled with vanilla. Pillow soft with a smooth cocoa taste, it would serve as an elegant end to the meal, assuming we hadn't greedily inhaled it.

Chocolate soufflé, chocolate mousse, crème anglaise

And so commences the parade of petits fours: the mini-mousse lamingtons were as the name suggests, little bites of chocolate and berry mousse, dusted in coconut. The dark horse of the petits fours spread were the sweet and sour lemon jub-jub, which looked innocuous but were a happy, mouth-puckering shock once devoured.

Mini mousse lamingtons (left) and lemon jub jub 

Orange jellies in strawberry coulis w/ house made Wizz Fizz

Rosewater marshmallows

Service rolls on

Valentine's Day and why I'm spending it with a can of lychees

Two years into a now defunct relationship, my lover came to me with a confession. I listened with trepidation as he admitted to having wanted to get this off of his chest for some time. He asked me if I could remember what we ate on our third date, when he invited me over for some home-cooked fare. The details of the meal itself were hazy, as our courtship was a whirlwind of intellectual stimulation and pheromones, so I wasn't focused on the food (for once). "All I remember is fresh pasta," I said.

"Yeah, the thing with that is that it wasn't actually fresh. I just put the pasta into a plastic bag to make you think I'd bought it from an artisan pasta maker, when actually it was Latina...out of a packet...from Safeway."

Valentine's Day is on the way, as is the corresponding observance of Antivalentinism, a counter-cultural reaction loaded with irony, given that it is intended to be a rejection of ritualised behaviour and consumerism (niche market it ain't, with Google yielding 6,840,000 results for "antivalentine gift").

In the same way that many Australians perceive St Patrick's Day as an excuse - nay, mandate - to get plastered, Valentine's Day to me is just an excuse for experimenting in the kitchen, so to speak. I don't see any reason to be contemptuous of the so-called holiday; if anything, be contemptuous of the people who feel pressured by something so frivolous and who take it seriously. Much of the pressure comes from those with fiscal interests, but like the song goes, "Money can't buy me love" and commercial interpretations of love and romance can typically be siphoned off into one of two revolting categories: schmaltzy or sleazy, giving the uninspired the choice between teddy bears made in China or edible underpants courtesy of Sexyland, Moorabbin.

I still can't be sure why my former partner felt compelled to tell the truth about the mass-produced tortellini years after the fact. Throughout our relationship though, he frequently did romantic, thoughtful things for me and perhaps he felt he fell short in those early stages of seduction.

The point however is that the food mattered less than the act and I maintain that cooking for someone you desire is a unique gift in that it is equal parts loving and sexy; it straddles (hehe) the line between providing sustenance and stimulating the senses - the visual, the olfactory, the oral.

Melbourne’s restaurateurs are capitalising on Valentine’s Day with the usual, predictable flourishes – set menus loaded with "premium" ingredients that are not conducive to romance so much as indigestion. And as romance is the theme, lazy chefs fashion menus with traditional French and Italian provisions: truffles, caviar, butter, cream, taleggio, fettuccine, gnocchi, pannacotta and mousse. One prominent venue is offering a five-course menu featuring a porterhouse steak as a main course, served with gnocchi and buttered broad beans, just in case your date is the size of the Hindenburg.

Richness and sweetness each have their place in a romantic meal, but to make the experience more than a one-note exercise in decadence, the lustful cook should incorporate a variety of flavours and textures. Heavy foods should be limited, lest you cock-block yourself by putting both you and your object of affection into a culinary coma.

Aperitif: Horn of Plenty cocktail
Made with Grand Marnier, champagne, grenadine syrup and bitters, this cocktail is a classic means of priming the tastebuds, with sweet and bitter notes. If you don't have a fetish for bitter orange as I do, a champagne cocktail with pomegranate and fresh ginger also makes for a pleasant amuse bouche.

Starter: Fig salad with goat's feta, walnuts and rocket
Finished with a vinaigrette of white wine and seeded mustard, this summer salad is equal parts crunchy, sweet and creamy. Feta has a beautiful, smooth texture and a mild taste, making it an ideal backdrop for bolder flavours. I prefer unmarinated Persian feta but goat's feta works as well.

Main: Sumac-crusted fillet of ocean trout with steamed broccolini and za'atar tahini sauce
You can't make za'atar? Well neither can I. Not to worry, as it's a widely available Middle Eastern spice mix. Sumac is another widely available spice, which is purple in colour and has a lovely lemon-y tang. The richness of the ocean trout is a fitting centrepiece for a romantic meal; don't spoil it by the unnecessary addition of carbohydrates. Just-cooked greens (brocollini, asparagus, etc) and a dollop of sauce are all that's required.

Dessert: Lychees in their own syrup with fresh mint, blueberries and sesame nougat
This dish comes courtesy of Jamie Oliver. Lychees reign as my favourite fruit, with their firm but yielding flesh and sweet syrup. Fresh mint and blueberries make the dish bright and aromatic; these ingredients should be mixed together and then served over a scoop of Gundowring French Vanilla ice-cream (the Maggie Beer and Connoisseur branded ice-creams are also excellent) and topped with crunchy sesame nougat. The ultimate summer dessert and a much lighter, exciting alternative.

...but if you and/or your hot date are really set on chocolate, just make a fondue to dip things in...