1. TUESDAY, JANUARY 13, 2004 THE AGE EPICURE 5
RESTAURANTS JOHN LETHLEAN
It’s a Monties
VIA FITZROY
SCORE: 15/20
A quirky yet refined dining experience
offering great value for money.
WHERE: 347 Smith Street, Fitzroy,
9419 3344
FOOD: modern, with Asian and
Mediterranean inspiration
BILL: about $79 for two (two courses
and coffee) plus drinks
HOURS: lunch Friday midday-3pm;
dinner 6.30pm-10pm, seven nights
OWNERS: Derek John, Julie Collins
CHEF: Damien Donehue
WINE LIST: serviceable. Boutique
labels mostly.
CORKAGE: n/a
VEGETARIAN OPTIONS: three entrees,
one main
SMOKING: bar
SEATS: 34
OUTDOOR DINING: no
WHEELCHAIR-FRIENDLY: no
PARKING: street
CARDS: AE BC DC MC V eftpos
SCORES:
1-9: unacceptable, don’t bother.
10-11: OK, some shortcomings.
12: getting there. 14: recommended.
15: good. 16: really good. 17: excellent.
18: outstanding. 19-20: approaching
perfection, Victoria’s best.
Whole fried baby snapper. PICTURES: EDDIE JIM
S
MITH Street’s had some poor press
in recent years, what with junkies
getting in the way of the Audi-driving
warehouse investors, but the artery dividing
Collingwood and Fitzroy seems hell-bent on a
bar-led recovery. Drive down here any warm
night to see what I mean.
People spilling on to the streets, music,
dancing, imported lager . . .
Being stuck uncomfortably between
convenient sociographic pigeonholes (not
unlike the recently elected leader of Her
Majesty’s Opposition), I’m not really into bars,
although I’m a strong supporter of them on
principle. So Monties Bar, just near that
carbohydrate institution Mamma Vittoria,
means nothing to me. It looks, however, like
the kind of bar I could easily fiscally support
if I weren’t already fiscally supporting less
transient concepts such as mortgages and
children.
The interior is loose without being grungy-
retro. It seems inhabited by a nice type of
person and there are interesting pieces of art
everywhere. I don’t mean the price-tagged
rubbish usually hung in cafes because, hey,
it’s free exhibition space. This stuff clearly
belongs to a collector.
Slip through a little red door at the side of
the bar and you’re in for quite a surprise. An
elegant room at once different from its
neighbour, yet stylistically consistent:
polished timber floors; white leatherette
banquettes; handsome, high-backed dark
timber chairs; raw brick walls painted a rich,
bold red. There’s a flood of natural light from
the big front window to Smith Street and a
dark ceiling. It’s a bold colour scheme.
Each table is double-draped in white linen
and set with good cutlery and glassware, and
ceramics that positively sparkle.
The whole setting screams attention to
detail, a very, very good sign.
There’s a substantial display case of wines.
And more of the proprietor’s art collection:
sculpture, mostly, including several John
Kelly bronze cows (very valuable) and a
magnificent chicken-wire teddy bear
suspended from the ceiling. .
Via — you enter through Monties, hence
the name — is only small and, this
Wednesday night, manned by a single waiter,
who runs the place with style and authority.
By the time you’ve consumed a couple of
(delicious) complimentary crumbed green
olives stuffed with savoury chicken mince and
slurped a Campari soda ($6.50), you should be
feeling pretty good about this place.
The menu, by chef Damien Donehue, is
one of those modern documents impossible
to categorise.
We ate predominantly Asian-inspired
dishes but could easily have fallen into things
like ricotta and hazelnut ravioli with zucchini
and preserved lemon sauce, artichoke hearts
stuffed with taleggio or chicken filled with a
Moorish green olive tapenade. What is
simpler to divine, however, is originality in the
way the dishes are conceived and composed.
Presentation is simple, elegant and
occasionally dramatic.
For the prices here — typical entree about
$14, typical main about $25 — there is huge
bang for your buck, and I only hope the wine
list can develop a little more to mirror the
quality of everything else. We drank a 2002
Knights Granite Hills Riesling at $35, but it
was one of only three of that variety, and the
spread of varietals is fairly conservative.
But Donehue’s food is good, there’s no
doubt about it.
Fronds of super-rare seared eye fillet of
beef, for example, form a ruby-coloured
starfish on a big white plate with a mound of
porcini pate underneath, and drizzlings of
good olive oil and pepper grinds scattered
around. Served with a plate of thin, crisp
sourdough crostini grilled with parmesan
($12.50), it’s a delightful starter of good meat
and complementary fungal flavours.
Four prawns, marinated with Thai flavours
and char-grilled, wrap themselves around a
salad of rocket, mint and shredded
cantaloupe, garnished with sesame seeds,
fresh coriander and fried shallot ($14.50). It’s
quite adventurous, that introduction of
slightly sweet, fleshy melon to such a melange
of flavours, and it works pretty well.
The outstanding dish is a whole baby
snapper. Talk about steal the show. It’s got
Freddy Krueger slashes down each side and
has been floured and deep-fried, although left
mercifully bone-dry. It sits upright on its belly,
dorsal fin to the sky, with a fabulous dark,
viscous chilli jam gooped down its back and a
nest of shredded fried kaffir lime leaves
sticking to the jam like a Smith Street
hairstyle. It comes with a superb stir-fried
salad of chopped wong bok (celery cabbage),
garlic, chilli, ginger, galangal and sesame
seeds. There is excellent balance to the
flavours; nothing dominates but all have
power in unison ($26.50).
The other main dish lacks the drama but
still works well. A piece of rock-sugar-cured
salmon is poached in a gentle, turmeric-heavy
yellow curry and served on a bed of assorted
sprouts (mung bean, snow pea and bean
shoots) with capsicum ($24.50). It’s heavily
garnished with wok-tossed chives, and looks
terrific.
I couldn’t really detect the effects of curing
on the fish, to be honest. The flesh seemed
delicate and just-cooked rather than slightly
tightened and concentrated from curing, but
it was an excellent piece of fillet and again, the
sauce in which it had been poached showed
terrific balance and harmony without overt
coconut or chilli excesses dominating.
The dessert again exemplified the effort put
into the food by a chef who is concentrating
on his craft rather than profit. However, it was
a curious thing. Described on the menu as a
self-saucing white chocolate and cardomon
(sic) pudding, the lovely golden steamed cone
in a puddle of syrup clearly hadn’t read the
menu too closely. Chocolate? Sauce?
I’m afraid not. For all that, the dessert,
accompanied by tamarillo compote with star
anise and a giant orb of pure, house-made
passionfruit ice-cream ($9), was very good.
Via has been ticking along about seven
months now and was quiet on the night we
ate. I can’t imagine why. This is a rather
special dining experience at a very reasonable
price.
Via could help give Smith Street a good
name.