Melbourne Elegy

Putting the finishing touches

I cupped my hands around my face, squinting hard through the darkened glass doors to make out what remained in the space within, the afternoon glow of a setting sun behind me providing just enough residual light as it slowly transitioned to the gloaming. As I was on my way to the nearby dessert bar for coffee and ensaymada (buttered Filipino brioche with cheese & sugar) while I did some work, I couldn’t help but spy the long white shelves left behind, tightly bracketed, on which lay nothing but a thin film of dust. Empty socket casings, tubes sticking out from the wall, and black wire hanging from the ceiling were among the indications of what it had earlier been; the tiny bits of debris strewn on the floor from the move, another. The barrenness of the dining room took on a sad complexion devoid of any adornments that previously gave it life. Where there were once tables was a picture of vacuity. The boisterous laughter and engaging conversations over the richness of Roasted bone marrow steak tartare enhanced with an egg yolk, topped with micro greens and aioli on the side or perhaps the fulness of a crisp-skinned Porchetta made moist by swimming in its own jus and served alongside a green apple salad and pineapple jam all washed down with the meatiness of a bottle of Les Vignerons D’Argeliers MCMVII (1907) cabernet-shiraz—hearty fare meant for sharing or to ring in some sort of celebration—were now merely echoes. The small window which framed the compact kitchen, at one point the soul of the entire place was dark. No longer illumined by the blaze of the heating lamp under which each dish was judiciously finished by the chef, head bowed in a world of his own making, totally transfixed in his passion. Only their shadows lingered. 

Australian cuisine. How do you classify it? I'm not so sure and have been at it for years. An attempt at definition based on finite first-hand experience would read: A hodgepodge of different international cuisines cooked exceptionally well by immigrants wishing to make a strong gastronomic case and tether themselves to the taste memories of home. But even this long-winded interpretation doesn't fully capture its essence. I had visited Sydney only twice, the most recent being two years ago. This was where the idea of my starting a small food business first took root over a fully-loaded beef hotdog sandwich and some mulled wine during wintertime in Paddington Markets more than a decade ago. Realizing that it went beyond fish & chips, marmite, & Anzac biscuits—the Australian culinary scene has left an indelible imprint on me.

Spice-hunting in Paddington Markets

Casuals had been a largely under-the-radar restaurant I've been seeing occasional features about on social media. Amidst a clarion call of flashy new openings in the city, this one was quiet and could’ve easily come unnoticed. A place whose dishes carry fine dining undertones with a more relaxed and democratic approach, one detail caught my attention—the head chef was Melbourne-trained. This was a serious consideration for me despite never having set foot in this other major food city, offering an expansive array of market products, a diverse multicultural dining scene, and some of the most acclaimed restaurants and pubs in the world. An atypical calling card for chefs plying their trade this side of the world. So with eyes narrowed and finger on my chin, I decided to pay this restaurant located on the second floor of an old, nondescript arcade in Magallanes—a quiet neighborhood away from the bustling city center and not known for splashy openings—a visit. 

I first swung its doors open for lunch with a friend during the waning days of summer last year. An interior of plain grey walls on which hung several culinary memorabilia, placements for cookbooks that marked the chef's kitchen journey, and shelves that displayed empty wine bottles was its understated aesthetic. A rectangular space confined by tables and a small bar on either side held a small window at the end of it. Framed by an opaque decorative red border, it offered a glimpse into the serious cooking occurring on the daily in that compact kitchen. Since we were there to discuss business, we sensibly opted for lighter offerings so as not to be offset by heftier choices that initially triggered my hunger pangs. 

Miso Cabbage

We started with the Patê: creamy smooth chicken liver on which a spoon-sized pool of adobo jus—providing some savory contrast and a tangy local touch—rested. This was served with toasted sourdough slices that acted as the perfect vehicle for that consummate smearing job. Next came our order of Eggplant Fries--fried light and crisp with a tempura-like crunch, whose delightful controlled sweetness brought about by the Szechuan sweet chili sauce glaze justified getting our fingers sticky over. One thing Casuals was touted for was dressing up their vegetables and taking them to town, removing them from their oft-overlooked and one-dimensional status. I do love my meat, but today I had a different agenda—intrigued by the significance given to greens, seemingly normal in many Aussie restaurants not necessarily vegetarian. I saw this as hardly a novelty but rather a possible shift in dining habits and awareness for the local community. A radical choice not usually found in our menus but something that excited me just as well. We chose the Kalabasa: a wedge of delicately roasted pumpkin glazed in miso. A layer of toasted almonds and herbs such as coriander, parsley, and dill lined its edge to add another dimension of flavor and crunch to its inherent buttery texture—taking what we'd botanically consider a fruit found in stews or in pureed form and baked in a warm pastry shell—to unique and exotic heights. We then had the Miso Cabbage: a thick, rambunctuous version of the otherwise hardy and unheralded vegetable oftentimes regarded as the supporting actor in a tired boiled corned beef saga. This time it came ready to shine on its own--sprinkled with healthy coatings of pangrattato, chives, & kimchi powder in between its layers--set to be cut into with a knife and fork and eaten as a proper dish. For our shared main we had Hamachi collar which was marinated in soy, mirin, ginger, & onions then grilled. This fleshy portion of the fish had a nice char to it and was served with pickled cucumber and kimchi to bridge the harmony between sweet, smoky, and acidic. We closed lunch with nothing else but that quintessentially-Aussie dessert of pavlova which was ritual and would've been a crime not to. Airy and crunchy, it came lusciously topped with macerated berries and fresh fruits. When once again the question to describe Aussie cuisine was asked by my curious friend at the meal’s end, we approached the chef to introduce ourselves, talk about his inspiration, and hope to procure an answer.

Pavlova

A product of the local culinary school system, Chef Rowen Amurao began his education in the halls of De La Salle College of St. Benilde in Manila before heading out west and immersing himself in large-scale hotel service and seasonal American cooking by interning at The Grand Summit Hotel in Canyons Village, Utah. He later did a stint at Grand Hotel in Michigan, providing him with the necessary foundation and discipline in the hospitality field. After coming back home to Manila to further his development—working in and heading local kitchens, as well as starting a small catering company—it was upon his transition to Melbourne, heralded as Australia's culinary capital, that he found his style and flourished. He gained insight from the bold cooking at Rockpool Bar & Grill, known for some of the best steaks in the city, took cues from the serious street food scene at Hawker Hall, & gathered experience from the modern Pan-Asian cooking at Supernormal. What he created at Casuals was a very approachable menu that utilized refined and classic techniques, pulling influence from European and Asian flavors while highlighting local produce.   

With Chef Rowen Amurao

When one is unable to properly navigate the afternoon's pace, deterred from performing at optimum levels, there is usually just cause. Such as overeating. We gathered at our friend’s house for what would be the last time before he put it on the market. This served as our farewell lunch—the site of many a sumptuous meal where the interweaving of good food, deep friendship, and rehashed tales of juvenescence would lend itself well into the night—making this send-off hardly an easy one. As we were busy deciding on a menu for that day, the idea came up to try Casuals, located just outside the village. Since our plans to go there could never seem to materialize, why not take it home instead?

Zucchini

I volunteered to cobble together the menu--a self-serving act which gave me free rein to sample the other dishes I missed on the first go-around and was curious to try. After over-thinking the spread and with takeout bags in tow, I arrived well after the appointed hour with tummies grumbling and patience on the edge. It was the middle of October—colorful Halloween figurines decorated the table, lending a spookily festive mood to this otherwise bittersweet affair. We transferred the food to decorative plates that suitably fit the occasion as I gave the group the rundown of dishes, using the limited amount of attention they were willing to spare. The Zucchini—on which was slathered a rich blend of pistachio salsa, ricotta, & honey—is a dish I still dream about. The soul of Casuals captured in a single dish in which a vegetable—usually sliced into rounds, overcooked until watery, and relegated as a side—is given its moment to shine creating a wonderfully homogenous bite where the subtlety of flavors & textures harmoniously build upon each other—and altogether steal the show. My memories are anchored on this one spectacular dish. Our next two dishes were hearty and meaty, just perfect for sharing. The Braised Lamb Shank came in a piquant tomato sauce with a hint of spice with flat bread to sop it all up. The tender Shortribs, glazed in miso and lacquered in a glossy red wine sauce went well with its accompaniment of couscous and roasted vegetables. A sweet ending was the  Sourdough Bread Pudding--serving as the perfect cot for the apple stew with a dollop of lemony custard on top. 

Braised Lamb Shank

This tapestry of dishes made our takeout lunch more than what we’d initially thought—a simple goodbye meal—concluding with the unscheduled arrival of Bruichladdich and Hennessy bottles, throwing what remained of our afternoon into a bona fide tailspin.

The table of plenty

When my sister-in-law asked if Casuals was an ideal venue to celebrate her birthday the following January, I thought about the sense of community it would foster. Intimate enough to close the place down with tables a comfortable distance from one another. Just perfect for a warm gathering with family & friends. I arrived for lunch as appetizers were being laid out on the table. The Scallops came bubbling from the broiler with burnt chili butter, cilantro oil, & pangrattato, as did the Lucban Croquettes stuffed with a creamy longganisa filling and served with garlic aioli and tomato relish. These served as the perfect welcome dishes to those unacquainted with the place, some of which sat at my table. Whereas dishes already familiar to me followed, it was the Pompano, served with calamansi butter sauce & herb salad that stood out. There’s something about a whole fish dish laid in front of you whose straightforwardness exhibits technical know-how and not to mention moxie. A dish that could’ve easily gone south for a sizeable lunch crowd in that small kitchen came fresh and unadorned highlighted only by its own flavor. The place was at full capacity that day without missing a beat. I went over to the pass to chat with Chef Row, still busy expediting dishes. Given that I’d pretty much had a sampling of most of Casuals’s dishes having since gone thrice, I told him that I was looking forward to brunch for a taste of the toasties next. The Berries & Cream—strawberry, crumble, cream, honey was a good closer, so too was the Flourless Chocolate Cake with salted caramel. Never a bad idea to have your dessert come in pairs.

Pompano

This lunch, unbeknownst to me, served as a swan song for a place I had planned to visit more often. I was glad to have had it end on a high note. Casuals served its last meal on March 31.

I never did have that toasty, but what I brought home was far more significant. As I walked back to my car after my coffee and ensaymada merienda that late afternoon with streaks of coral gleaming on the horizon over the drag of a 6pm highway commute across from me, I glanced at the dark glass doors in that old, nondescript building. I feel fortunate to have discovered a neighborhood restaurant away from my own and invite others to do the same. To uncover these gems hiding in plain sight and support chefs who live and breathe their craft. Their kind is easy to spot—you will surely know as I did. As Chef Row packs his knife case and mans the tram to his next destination, taking all the knowledge of that cuisine that I can’t quite define along with him, I remember what he succinctly told me and my friend after that first lunch in June, which makes it all the more elucidating. Australian cuisine is a vibe.