How to save for a fancy meal

And proper dinner party etiquette - according to Usher.

A quick note: I’m travelling to visit family at the moment and sadly was unable to complete the next instalment of ‘What’s Cooking Around the World’ before my departure. The good news is, this means there’ll be a double whammy next edition! Yummy, delicious.

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I love to have people cook for me, as much as cooking myself. The end game after all is eating delicious food; does it really matter how we get there?

Yet there is no denying it. Eating out, along with oh, everything else in life, is getting spenny. So how does one afford the occasional splash out if they are at least middle-class and dealing with the rising cost of living?

When I was ten years old, I really wanted a Tamagotchi. They cost $20 and at the time, I received $2 pocket money a week. I went to my parents with a Business Plan, where I’d borrow the money up front and pay them back, by not receiving pocket money for ten weeks.

Ah, no. They said I could save up for the Tamagotchi week by week. Mum gave me little jar which perfectly fit Australian two dollar coins. One I had ten lined up in there, we were off to Target, where I finally bought my first Tamagotchi with my own pocket money.

I loved that little thing to death, more for having saved up for it bit by bit. And I mean literally to death, as it pooped too much while I was at school and sent itself off to Tamagotchi heaven.

I’ve started applying this same method to the odd splurge. And I will say, being fortunate enough to squirrel away $20 a week (for now, as who knows how high inflation will go ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯) from my ‘pocket money’ is something I don’t take for granted.

The anticipation of saving makes the reward all the more sweeter. Something worth remembering in a society that gives two big thumbs up to things like debt, credit cards and instant gratification.

The rules of dinner party engagement, according to Usher

I love an internet example of ‘celebrities who don’t live in the real world’ and The Cut has gifted us just this. In an interview with R&B sensation Usher, the first question asked is ‘what are you dinner-party rules’?

He starts off strong.

“Don’t come empty handed. If you come to a dinner party, I think it’s appropriate to bring something.”

I agree! It seems the pinnacle of rudeness to turn up to a party, where someone has taken the time to cook for you, with naught on your person.

Then he kinda ruins his own good advice.

“Napkins, a bottle of Rémy. Not everybody likes your potato salad, so don’t bring that.”

Okay. Two things to pull apart here.

Firstly, what’s wrong with potato salad? To me, it is the most inoffensive of dishes, which is nearly impossible to get wrong. Second perhaps only to potato bake. I think it’s perfectly fine to bring potato salad to a dinner party or potluck. Perhaps just check with the host first, to make sure there are no double-ups, then go for your life.

Part two. WHO BRINGS NAPKINS TO A DINNER PARTY. Isn’t this a weird suggestion? Surely the host will already have napkins on hand? Or serviettes or perhaps even kitchen towel?

The Rémy I’m okay with. Anything drinky is appropriate to bring to a dinner party.

Anyway. I’m a cook, or at least a person who likes to cook. I throw the occasional dinner party. So I got a-thinking, what’s my pet peeve when I’m organising a soirée? What could people possibly do wrong that is perhaps, unforgivable?

I think it is incredibly bad manners to show up early to a dinner party. Obviously being late isn’t great, but this is perhaps the one social situation where you are okay to be 2-5 minutes late. Cooking famously doesn’t go to plan and some cookbooks… why some cookbooks don’t even list the preparation + cooking time.

Plus. In many situations, people will go rogue at a dinner party. They want to impress. So. They’ll cook something they may not have attempted before. Which may or may not be outside their area of expertise.

There’s nothing worse than being in the midst of a kitchen meltdown, then having to put on a smiley face for a guest who has the gall to rock up 5-10 minutes before the agreed time. Punctuality is obviously usually a good virtue, so please be early or at least on time to anything else. Just not this.

I’m curious. What do you think is improper dinner party etiquette? Do you, erm, agree with Usher? What in particular gets your goat?

Review: Matsu in Footscray

Seating four people for two sittings Wednesday-Saturday each week, the unassuming shopfront of Matsu belies what lies within. You ring the doorbell, relieve yourself of your coat, journey upstairs, push through noren (fabric door dividers) and enter the kaiseki bar, where chef Hansol Lee is waiting to greet you.

Korean-born Lee trained at Japanese restaurant Kenzan for a decade; and he started not knowing a word of Japanese. Now he and his partner are bringing kaiseki to Melbourne’s west – a multi-course experience, guided by seasonal offerings.

The menu is set, with no dietary restrictions. You better like/eat seafood, or you’re in strife.

A small welcome drink is poured and the show gets underway. The first offering is a Tasmanian oyster with caviar, followed by chawanmushi (steamed egg custard) with a prawn on top, and a scallop buried deep within, that you unearth with a spoon, akin I am sure, to the feeling of striking gold.

Next is a chef’s choice seasonal platter. We’ve got pearls of salmon roe, tempura fish, a pickled cherry tomato and the star of the plate, octopus infused with wasabi.

The octopus is melt-in-your-mouth good – tender as the night. Or in the parlance of our times, it is tender AF. Lee tells us he massaged the octopus for a good half an hour and that traditionally these creatures of the sea were banged against rocks by fishermen, to tenderize them (once already deceased, I do hope).

Seasonal Hassun, paired with lychee-flavoured sake.

It is a wonder, sitting at a counter and watching a master chef at work. The way Lee precisely and confidently slices the sashimi, while regaling his guests with tales from his time in Japanese kitchens and other anecdotes is impressive. Plates of nigiri are presented in quick succession; the tuna belly portion melts into my tongue in a manner that is almost spiritual. A blowtorch is ignited, searing pieces of marbled Waygu to perfection.

In what is the only downside of the evening, we’re offered a couple more pieces of nigiri. It’s not communicated that this is additional cost on top of an already hefty price tag (and into very full bellies); instead we make this discovery when we are presented with the bill.

After a delicious dessert that includes black sesame ice cream and matcha cake, perfectly complemented by the genmaicha tea I’ve been sipping for the last half hour, the meal is over.

Or is it? Lee presents us with a white bag, Matsu’s logo emblazoned on the corner, telling us to enjoy this treat for breakfast or lunch tomorrow. As recommended, I fire up the hob the next morning, slicking some Lard Ass butter into my favourite frying pan and dropping the contents of the bag into it. Onigiri (rice ball) for breakfast – you can’t go wrong.

Bookings for Matsu open on the first day of every month at 10pm. Reservations are via their website only.

What’s cooking: good reviews

• The Matildas – I can’t really write this section of the newsletter without giving a good review to our best national soccer team. It’s been amazing watching the Tillys dominate both the football field and the television ratings. This newsletter will come out after their semi-final against England, but I’m writing this before first kickoff and am filled with anticipation. I’d say I hope the gals do us proud but really, they well and truly have, no matter which way the match goes. Socceroos, remind yourselves – you are Kenough. Also, lol.

• I went on a long(ish) train journey last weekend. I say ‘ish’ as it was three and a half hours long, which is not an epic trip by any means, but (hopefully) longer than a commute by train to work. Anyway, I love (non-commuter) trains and was excited for this journey. And it did delight. I was sat next to a lovely Swedish woman who had been in Australia since before I was born and was on her way to Melbourne to visit her son, who’d just become father to twins. We chatted about this and that, drank wine from the buffet and bid adieu when my stop arrived, never to see each other again. It’s travel at its best – sparking with a similar soul and then fading into the night.

• Speaking of trains, I’m determined to take advantage of V-Line’s (the regional trains in Victoria) cheaper fares to some of the state’s regional hubs this spring/summer. Top of my list is Ballarat. The city’s International Foto Biennale kicks off at the end of this month and there are some great places to eat in town.

  

  The world’s greatest invention.

What’s cooked: bad reviews

• I ordered my first steak out in about 13 years the other day. I didn’t eat beef for the longest time (for ENVIRONMENTAL REASONS and also because I had pet cows as a youth and feel Funny about it) but am waging a constant war against flagging iron levels, so here we are, experimenting. Nothing against the steak, but there was an option to choose how you wanted it, as there should be. I like mine rare, so that’s what I ordered. What I got was a steak pretty much well-done. Not even medium rare, or medium! I could never send meat back to a kitchen but really, blergh.

Everything was NICE and YUMMY, I just wanted the steak done the way I requested.

Thanks as always, for reading. Next time we’ll be taking our third (ahem) and second last stop on our trip around the world. Guys, we’re heading to sunny Spain (Update: and will be cheering them on in the finals).

‘Til next time, keep well and well-fed.

-Celine

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