Page turners

LOL; no, not laugh out loud but Lady of Leisure. That is my serene title at the moment as I wait patiently for the impending arrival of the birth of my baby. I am at that “anytime now” stage so trying to make the most out of my LOL status; whilst doing an array of activities to keep my mind supple and in a non-vegetable state as I wind down from work and try and sit still for longer than 5 minutes. Mr ELG has this strength; I apparently do not.

Since mum taught me to read at the ripe old age of 2, I have always been one to have many books on the go. Never a one-book-woman, I find that books of many genres have always been able to whisk me away from the mundane. I love the imaginary landscapes, the truth of numerous voices, the colours and themes and the many characters that you discover are your best friends, worst enemies or just passer-bys. And if I were ever to be stuck on a desert island and it was a pre-meditated journey so I could take a bag of books with me; this is the list in no particular order (which is also ever-changing):

  1. The Solitaire Mystery, by Jostein Gaarder
  2. Perfume, by Patrick Suskind
  3. The Millennium trilogy, by Stieg Laarson
  4. One Day, by David Nicholls
  5. Child 44, by Tom Rob Smith
  6. The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho
  7. Prospect Park West, by Amy Sohn

Right now, however in my LOL phase, I am re-reading the finer points of Active Birth Skills, by Juju Sundin and Sarah Murdoch to prepare myself for that L word that I am about to face and embrace. In addition, I have Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua on the go. Through her honest style of writing, I am literally laughing out loud as she writes about the distinctive style of Chinese parenting. This is bringing up memories of my own upbringing and how I am running in the other direction! I discovered my local library last week and have a spy novel on the go too (the secret lives of spies is ever intriguing) and let’s not forget the book club book I was supposed to have finished last month; How it Feels, by Brendan Cowell. Loved him in the TV series “Love My Way” but am finding his style of writing extremely confronting.


However it is the magazine MINDFOOD which takes the cake for the Page Turner award of the moment. Yes, I think I am one of ‘those people’ keeping the print industry alive! The current issue has Rebecca Gibney on the cover and despite my many books that I have yet to finish, I have not been able to put this magazine down since its weekend purchase. I usually flick through a magazine cover to cover and then go back to the articles of interest and feel time slip away. MINDFOOD has found the right balance of food and fashion, editorial and advertising, travel and puzzles, gossip and reality. No longer thinking should I purchase that stripy dress…now thinking about how and where do I subscribe?!!

burnt orange

orange ~ Fanta, Valencia, Hermes, tandoori chicken, Autumn, Julia Gillard’s hair, butternut pumpkin.

burnt orange ~ Uluru.

In a past life, I used to be a tour guide and lead groups of up to 50 American students around the Central parts and the East Coast of Australia. I will never forget my first sunset at “the rock”. A local was passionately telling me that the naked eye alone would not be able to recognise and see all of the many shades of colour change and that I would have to have my finger ready to tap away at my camera and take at least 10 shots per minute to see one of the most beautiful sights. Lo and behold, when I returned home and developed my photos (it was not quite the digital age yet), my 30 or so photos of this impeccable sunset showed a myriad of shades of red, pink, purple and finally, a glowing burnt orange as the dust settled and Mr Moon came out from his hiding place.

As I was driving down Middle Head Road, Mosman yesterday morning on my way to the aptly named Burnt Orange; this vivid memory was a beam in my thoughts. I have heard many things about this cafe/shop but given its location is somewhat off the beaten track, I hadn’t been there until yesterday when the showers had set into Sydney and Balmoral beach was not shaping up to be the best wet-weather destination. Located in an old golf house, with a sweeping verandah wrapping its way around the homestead; I walked through the store to make my way out the back. Within moments, I saw beyond the headlands, a magical view over Sydney Harbour despite the steady drizzle of rain. A couple of tables were already filled with “ladies of leisure” and parents and new babies in tow. One of my companions for the Burnt Orange visit was a soon-to-be-three-year-old-going-on-thirty-year-old who immediately focused on a pink chair and that just had to be “our table”. Mixing kitsch with laid-back, I could only envisage this place on a weekend packed to the rafters with locals and visitors craning for a table and latte. But on a somewhat wet Tuesday morning, Burnt Orange had a relaxed, c’mon-in feel to it and a couple of hours passed by as my girlfriend and I made our way through an assortment of eggs, toast, scones and brownies with no feeling of being rushed to go and free up our table.

Also attracting the eye as I sipped on my delectable chai latte was an array of locally sourced gourmet foods in bottles and bags. Easter eggs and rabbits were on display and I could feel my senses being enveloped with every breath.

Finishing up, we headed downstairs to the homewares part of the store and I have to admit I was in a state of bliss. It was lovely to see the stock was not stock-standard yet unusual and different and I could imagine any piece having a place in my home. Upstairs housed more goodies to entice your wallet opening; cute kids clothes, lazy girly pyjamas, cozy embroidered blankets, colourful and witty cards, coffee table books on everything from French bistro fare to Givenchy shoes and my girlfriend and I did not succeed in leaving the place empty-handed.

For a destination off the beaten track; I will definitely go back soon if not for more perusing through the beautiful store for a “just because” gift or to sip another seriously-good chai latte. Burnt Orange; no longer associated with just a big bloody rock.

Burnt Orange @ 1109 Middle Head Road, Mosman NSW 2088

Clipper Cafe – a bloody brilliant breakfast spot!

Date: Saturday 26 March, 2011. Suburb: Glebe. Destination: Clipper Cafe.

Last Saturday was in one word frenetic. NSW was going to the polls and voting for Barry, Glebe’s weekly Saturday markets were on and there were people everywhere, the skies kept threatening to open up and pour down and Mr ELG and I were starving! Clipper Cafe has been on the must-go list for a while but I had never quite got there until last weekend. Located at the Parramatta Road end of Glebe Point Road, it is masked by kitsch green and white awnings and peering in through the large glass windows, it looks extremely busy with people out and about already sipping their flat whites and OJs and Saturday catch-ups have long commenced. Our group of 4 are quickly seated at the end of a share bench table and within the blink of an eye, menus are in front of us and first round of coffee orders have been taken. I get the sense there’s no mucking around here and service is top of mind. Taking a first glance at the menu, it has all the Saturday-session essentials ~ eggs, avocado, sausages, bacon, smoked salmon, French toast. Personally I order the bircher muesli with pistachio, honey and poached pears. Friends choose eggs in a variety of ways; poached and baked with an assortment of tasty accompaniments. Our order is taken by someone with a great memory and no notepad and the scene is set to simply sit back, relax and get on with the goss.

As everyone is chattering away, I look around at the character of Clipper and clearly see that it has loads of that and much more. Life-size push bikes hang on the wall next to mini penny-farthings, a selection of travel books on Sicily and Guatemala entice the wandering mind and the place has a buzz, an electricity that meets the frenetic nature of outside. A sip of the coffee is satisfying; creamy and crisp in taste and feeling like we have not waited at all, breakfast is already upon us and waiting to be devoured. Each of us have food envy looking at each other’s orders. Everything is still grand.

The bircher has a subtle sweet taste and has been efficiently soaked. The pears are soft and instantly melt in the mouth. The pistachios are crunchy and add the texture required to confirm happiness in my bowl. Mary has the baked eggs which arrive in a mini red Le Creuset dish. Oozing with sauce and sausages and partnered with crunchy buttered bread, all I hear from then on is silence and satisfied slurping with a smile. Mr ELG ordered the smoked salmon and poached eggs, with capers on toast and moments later, it has also been inhaled. Claire has eggs and bacon – a Saturday standard turned superior. As I said; a bloody brilliant breakfast.

Topping it off, the bathroom was clean – always an extra tick in my box and as I wander back to my seat I notice a Ben and Jerry’s fridge full of tubs and I know I have found a great place I will go to again. The food has exceeded expectations, the coffee was ordered more than once just because it was that good, the wait-staff were polite, smiley and on the ball and while there was a sense of urgency, there was no rush and Saturday started as it’s supposed to.

Clipper Cafe @ 16 Glebe Point Road, Glebe NSW 2037

Go…Eat…Love!

No, I have not gone mad and forgotten the name of my blog nor confused the flow of the verbs. Instead, let me explain…

It’s no secret that Mr ELG and I love to travel and go places. It could be a local getaway, a longer road-trip or aboard a jet-plane. Doesn’t really matter where we go because somehow it is always a given that by the time we come home, we are numerous kilograms heavier luggage-wise…all due to the innocent jam jar (most likely to be plural).

Fact: Mr ELG loves JAM. Quite unlike anyone I have ever met before. This condiment love-affair also extends to marmalades, chutneys and honeys ~ savoury or sweet and at any time that you happen to open up my pantry, there will always be a jar or maybe 10! Blackberry, Fig and Raspberry rate up there at the top of flavour chart but anything goes really. Personally, pre-Mr ELG; my favourite spread of choice on hot toast was always Nutella. A definite chocoholic morning or night; I love it thickly laden and and spread right to the edge of the crust. Jam for me as a spread was hit and miss, although from time to time, I have bought a jar of Bonne Maman’s apricot variety but I will tell you now, I do not display the same enthusiasm for jam as Mr ELG.

Last year in Tasmania, on a road-trip up the Freycinet coast leaving Port Arthur behind and en route to Swansea, we began to see signs for Kate’s Berry Farm. Unfortunately the sun had just started setting so we cruised past the signs promising to go back the next day to explore. The next day’s exploration did not disappoint and after a flurry of sugary taste-testing, we left the quaint berry farm with two jars of raspberry jam; sugarless and another variety with Cointreau.

Back at home, I remember twisting open the sugarless raspberry jar and within a week, its contents were gone. Spread, devoured by both of us ~ it was happiness in a jar.

A week ago, it was time to clean out the pantry. Looking at the shelf with its numerous jars we had collected various jams from our travels sourced from Maggie Beer, Beerenberg, St Dalfour and Christmas Hills. And there at the back behind the 20 other jars was a familiar looking black and white label. Long lost but certainly not forgotten, there had obviously been a bit of a backlog of jam to get through. It was the other jar; the Raspberry with Cointreau jam we had bought from Kate’s Berry Farm. I must admit at this moment of discovery, I let out a little squeal (it’s always the simplest things!) Throwing aside my pantry cleaning chore, bread was quickly toasted and to eat this jam was priority!

And so I deem this post GoEatLove…pretty similar I think to “I came, I saw, I conquered” as this is what I did. Having gone to Kate’s Berry Farm, I ate some jam and fell in love, on par with Mr ELG’s enthusiasm. Simple as that but admittedly spreading this Cointreau one a bit thinner; in order to enjoy every last morsel!

Kate’s Berry Farm @ 12 Addison Street, Swansea TAS

Little Italy on Hastings Street, Noosa

I always maintain…a great restaurant is one you go back to twice, three times and then who’s really counting at that point? Especially when it’s located in another state, it’s 2 hours away and that’s just flight time.

In terms of what Aussies love to eat, I am certain that Italian food rates up there in most people’s top 5 and well for me it certainly does. I know Chinese, Indian and Japanese are favourites too in terms of our ever-evolving palates but for me, #1 is my love for a food that hails from that gorgeous Mediterranean boot of a country! I love to whip up a spag bol after work (from scratch – none of this bottled sauce for me please!), I often crave for rich lasagne with lots of bechamel sauce, I have boxes of Pastabilities Roast Duck with Star Anise ravioli in my freezer (just in case) and I cannot ever go past ordering spaghetti/linguine/fettuccine/tagilatelle/pappardelle marinara when dining in an Italian restaurant. I immediately scan a menu for this when I am in a restaurant and if I have been there before I know what I am ordering before I have sat down.

This was the case when I went back to Lindoni’s on Hastings Street, Noosa at the beginning of March this year. It was just under two years ago that I was in Noosa for the jazz festival and I dined at this al fresco Italian restaurant with black and white checkerboard tiles, handpainted pictures of Positano adorning the walls and knowledgeable waiters milling around telling me of the night’s specials. Grazing over the menu which was in both Italian and English, my eyes quickly picked up on Fettuccine Marinara al Cartoccio. The waiter explained that this was not your average marinara but baked and served in a paper bag and that this was a “fine decision!” Fine was an understatement ~ magnificent and eternally etched into memory is a better description!

Two weekends ago, I was back in Noosa on a family weekend. I said to my sisters who share my love of Italian food, “I promise this will be the highlight.” I didn’t lie. While the others purveyed the menu and ordered other tantalising tit-bits, one of my sisters and I ordered just as I had two years ago. Not just your average waiter, Tony also picked up my growing 32-week belly and omitted the mussels on my order this time around (as I mentioned above; ever-knowledgeable and on the ball). Just as my hunger pains peaked, out came the dish ~ the baking paper was removed with a flick of the wrist and out poured a steaming yet delightful version of Marinara and for the next 20 minutes it was all about me and the plate and my love affair continued.

The home-made tiramisu finished off the night for me and confirmed that when in Noosa, do as the Italian lovers do and go to Lindoni’s. Book so you’re not disappointed as the restaurant fills up most nights. And now I wonder when will I get back to Noosa next…?

Lindoni’s @ 13 Hastings Street, Noosa Heads QLD

Ms.G or was that MSG?

When MSG  (aka Monosodium glutamate commonly used in Chinese food as a flavour enhancer) is added to a dish, the initial reaction is “hmmm, tastes so good!” It’s only when you leave the restaurant and you have this unmistakeable thirst or even worse; a throbbing migraine that the latter reaction is “they must have put MSG in.” Disappointment, especially in this day and age when there are limitless real flavours and ingredients you can add to effectively enhance the taste of a dish.

Ironically I liken my experience of new Potts Point, Sydney showpony “Ms. G” to its namesake MSG. We Sydneysiders are a fickle bunch. Quick to try a new restaurant/bar/cafe, quicker to pack inside like sardines so there’s no option but to try and remain effortlessly chic and absolutely not squashed or sweaty as you cosy up next to a complete stranger and their skin whilst trying to hold your ground of 2cm squared and balance a cocktail and smile at the same time.

Saturday night in Sydney; 7.30pm. Let’s go to Ms. G. It’s the new Hemmes place with the chef from Lotus at Potts Point; it’s meant to be fab!! Upon arrival to its Victoria Street location, it all looks good. What must have once been a stately Victorian terrace in its day has now been gutted and warehoused into a thriving and buzzing money machine of 5 levels where plenty of people were already seated and in the throes of eating, drinking and revelling in their Saturday night sensations. People were spilling out on to the pavement, confident lasses held pens and clipboards trying to manage a growing list of names and contact numbers against a ticking clock and me and Mr EatLoveGo (ELG) barged our way through, heading up to the top level bar where friends were already patiently waiting, names on the list, passing the time sipping cocktails. “They said a table will be ready at 9pm”. Hmmm, a 90minute wait for what was supposed to be THE food to be had – that’s reasonable I guess for somewhere that has a no-booking policy, right?

Upstairs the atmosphere was going off; literally. 3 flustered bar staff were attempting to serve a growing number of patrons. Seat options were either a sunken wall lounge or low wooden stools. Others wanting to rest their feet were perched on the funky looking compacted boxes tied with string-serving as makeshift tables for drinks as maintaining more than your own personal space became a little luxury leaving your grasp. Mr ELG stepped up to the bar responsible for the next round of drinks for the group. Slowly swallowed by more and more patrons, Mr ELG disappeared into the crowd edging closer and closer to the bar and buying his round when I heard someone say “Where’s Mr ELG? Is he still at the bar getting drinks?” 45 minutes had gone by and it was obvious that Ms. G needed to get more than 3 staff manning this bar as the round had still not appeared. 15 more minutes passed and I finally saw his hand reach through the crowd with each of our drinks being passed through one by one. Mr ELG himself finally appeared; flustered being an understatement and I began to see those nasty effects of MSG starting to take its toll. To top it off, one of our group had gone downstairs to get an update from clipboard-girl and what was originally a confident “you’ll be seated by 9pm” had become “there’s still about 8 groups in front of you and it’s unlikely you will be seated before 10pm.”

Hmmm reasonable I think not and a clarity on what inevitably makes us so fickle. All it takes is just one hint of bad service or an unreasonable wait time of over 2 hours to eat or 1 hour to quench your thirst and a foul taste is left in my mouth despite a want and desire to try the newest destination in town. Running a successful restaurant that ticks all the boxes from the first day is a tough gig. I grew up with a Dad who opened many. Some worked and some didn’t. It’s not enough to have a great location, gorgeous interior, a tantalising menu, a damn good wine list and enough bodies to take the orders. Essential ingredients for success at any restaurant/cafe/bar are also the friendly and attentive staff who are honest and gracious, a point of difference to survive in our fickle, harbour-loving landscape and may I ask; who invented no bookings anyway? As someone who loves to eat and dine outside of my kitchen; I would rather hear “We’re fully booked” to “um…it’s about a 2 hour wait; give me your mobile number and I will call you when a table is ready.” Certainty is much better than hopes being dashed when no one bothers to call at all especially when you’re still at the pub down the road waiting for the phone to ring and the stomach is still rumbling.

As we left Ms. G, famished but en route to a place that took a last minute booking, conversation turned to its long-standing neighbours on Victoria Street Jimmy Liks and Mezzaluna. We all agreed Jimmy Liks has such yummy food and great cocktails and “it’s still packed after 10 years; geez they must be doing something right” and Mezzaluna has “such a great view and yummy Italian food too”. It was refreshing to realise that some destinations surpass the fickle hill and last the distance despite their neighbours changing names and paint colours every season.

I don’t know if I will go back and try to get an elusive table at Ms. G again as there are so many more places that keep popping up in Sydney town and unfortunately I am fickle just like the rest of them. For now though, I think I’ll call A Tavola, a favourite that has surpassed and is a stayer that takes bookings!

Ms. G @ 155 Victoria Street Potts Point NSW 2011

when it wasn’t rude to stare

At a dinner table conversation last month; all I heard was “the baby is…like…the size of…this room.” Enough to pay attention when you’re in a restaurant of normal size and enough to hold a good 60 people comfortably. Looking around me and taking in the width and length of the room, I thought “no, it can’t be.” Paying slightly more attention I heard a friend describing the latest art exhibition in the Christchurch Art Gallery, “his name starts with an R, Robert something maybe but so lifelike…a must see!” In Christchurch last month specifically for a spectacular birthday celebration 72-hour stay, thoughts didn’t carry much further than cake and candles but with a spare morning and time to kill, my man and I headed to the gallery to find a queue of people waiting patiently for not a Robert something but a Ron Mueck.

I consider myself to be somewhat of an arty fart; not obsessed but I have been to my fair few share of art galleries and exhibitions around the world. Aside from staring at the Mona Lisa for 15 seconds in the Louvre, I love wandering through the MoMA when in New York and last year I spent a couple of hours walking through the Peggy Guggenheim in Venice; unable to comprehend that this was once someone’s private collection of art. However, never before has an exhibition stayed with me for so long after, as real as if I had just left the gallery, taking me back to the moment when I saw and simply stared and kept staring trying to take it all in. Ron Mueck is a first for me in this regard.


Turning the corner and stepping into the exhibition the first thing I see is Dead Dad, so fantastically real (from all the CSIs I watch) with its stubble, yellowing skin, floppy but stiff pose if not for being 2/3 smaller than an actual human. Ron Mueck is a renowned hyper-realist sculpture artist, born in Melbourne and working out of Great Britain. Discovered by Charles Saatchi after making a lifelike Pinocchio for a London play, he has made a series of human forms so lifelike in sculpture that you can’t help but stare and ponder and wonder how on earth has someone made this? Following on we come across the larger than life newborn baby who looks like it has just popped out of a giantess, with its umbilical cord laying there and its skin all creased from the pressures of labour. I am next confronted by a woman In Bed, contemplating life with her doona pulled up and her hand raised to her face. I feel like I have been that woman at some stage when all of life’s woes come to a standstill and are still unfortunately there the morning after; if only she wasn’t at least 15 metres long. Through Mueck’s processes, he manages to use resin and silicone to get the creases of the skin right when the foot bends in a stocking, to finely place hair by hair on a chin to get a 5 o’clock shadow right and to get the tautness of a muscle so correct that you can feel your own leg mimicking the sculpture before you.

I left the gallery in awe and astounded by this person’s talents. So, when you next see a poster where it announces that Ron Mueck is showing at an exhibition near you, all I can say is – go!

first feed at Fergburger

I’m not really a fan of Jetstar or any low-frill airline for that matter. Yes, I get the whole bargain-basement-methodology when there are offers like $207 fares enticing you to be your own Hawaii 5-0 but when I travel I am partial to a bit of luxury and the very minimum I expect is a personal inflight entertainment screen, a seat where there is a gap between by knees and the next seat and a free cookie to keep my sugar levels spritely. Unfortunately on a recent leg from Sydney to Queenstown, I ate my words and boarded a Pacific Blue flight and after 3 hours of flight time, a patient wait for my red suitcase and an even longer wait to collect the keys to the hire car; I was, you could say more than chomping at the bit for some sustenance and given the absence of cookie, I was definitely in need of more than a couple of crumbs.

First stop – Fergburger.

One thing that Masterchef has done quite successfully after two record-breaking seasons is to build the celebrity-esque reputations of many a restaurant around. Our tastebuds are searching for signature dishes, savouring speciality flavours and giving their chefs Hollywood Boulevard status. Move over Quay and put your snow egg snowball to the side so you can make enough room on the plate and in the stomach for a Fergburger because the likes of a Little Lamby, Big Al or a Cockadoodle Oink are certainly not for the faint-hearted.

Go to Shotover Street, follow the beanie/ear-muff/puffa jacket crowd and cram inside to get in line for a super-heart stopper. The burgers are massive in taste and size, prices range between NZ $10-16.50 and the funny thing is – at the end, the only thought on your mind is when will you be back for more?

Fergburger @ 42 Shotover Street, Queenstown 9300 New Zealand

High Tea that brings tears to my eyes

Thoughts of scones, tiny cucumber sandwiches, fine pastries, mini quiches and English Breakfast would come to most people’s minds when thinking of High Tea. Most people would go to the Victoria Room in Darlinghurst or the QVB Tea Rooms and some may even contemplate an extravagant celebration at the Dorchester, London to have a bit of High Tea. But when my sister recently enquired as to whereabouts in Sydney serves High Tea at night, it reminded me that not everyone knows about my type of High Tea.

This is a high tea which still involves pots of EBT served at the door in teapots of all sorts but secret squirrels replace scones and sandwiches and somewhere in a Surry Hills, Sydney location there are 100 or so people on a Thursday night who come together and unite over a shared love of music. Seated on cushions or lounges and cooling off under a paper fan, musicians take an acoustic stage and croon or play songs to their heart’s content. Suddenly the High Tea that is usually associated with high-end hotels hailing from the British Empire takes on a dramatic new light.

It was on a summer’s night in early 2010 when I went to my first High Tea for the year not having heard of this musician before or knowing what his music was like. Walking into the room, there was warm candlelight and people already chatting when I arrived and the ambience had an immediate electricity. When Renny Field moved across to the piano and started singing “Your Eyes”, I felt time stop for the duration of the song. His words brought tears to my eyes as I listened to the beautiful melody. And when I listen to the song now, it takes me right back to that moment at High Tea that I shared with the others in the room that night.

So come and find me at High Tea; I will be there tonight listening to Sam Buckingham. There may be no scones but this is a secret worth discovering for yourself!

Rewind 23 years

Rewind 23 years and I was a bite-sized 6-year old on my first overseas adventure in the heart of bright-lights-big-city Tokyo with my standard regulation Cathay Pacific yellow backpack. Food was a love, even back then although in 1986 I was honestly more amazed that Ronald McDonald had an identical Japanese cousin who said konichi-wa instead of Hello!

One of my most vivid memories however on that trip concerns the equation of sushi and technology. One night, Dad decided to take my entire family to eat at a small sushi studio somewhere in Tokyo. Interest was waning at the thought of rice and seaweed but it quickly peaked when I noticed that in front of each person was an Atari-looking pad of buttons with lots of colourful and creative photos of the mere sushi. I don’t remember if it was me or one of my sister’s who started the button pushing but before we could blink an eye our “button choice” of sushi was being brought out by a waiter and placed in front of us and from then on a button frenzy began. To this day, Dad still says it was the most expensive meal our family has ever eaten and looking back now I can only imagine what the bill would have totalled to in Yen for 7 hungry mouths more focused on the novelty of button-pushing than focusing on what we were eating.

Flash-forward 23 years and I found myself in Tokyoria at World Square, Sydney in front of a flat screen, with four of my girlfriends pre SATC 2. We were hoping for a quick Japanese meal before heading across to the cinema and we were definitely not disappointed. After working out how to order, food quickly appeared just as it had many years ago in Tokyo. At the touch of a button, miso soup and agedashi tofu was before us and feeling a bit hungrier than we thought extra food was tapped, ordered and almost magically appeared before our eyes.

Tokyoria’s food was a tad on the pricier side but for $30 each between the 5 of us (after several dishes to share including dessert and drinks), the dinner definitely hit the spot. It might be 23 years later that Sydney finally caught up but it was well worth the wait and in hindsight what a privilleged little 6 year old I was, to get to peer into the future!

Tokyoria @ Upper level 644 George Street Sydney 2000