The Suite

 I don't drive. Heaven knows, it's not for want of trying. Apparently in certain European countries, after you've failed your driving test more than 3 times, they send you off for psychological assessment, evidently concerned at your inability to master the art of car-handling. What they would do to someone like me, who has held a learner's permit 4 times and not even got to the test stage, I dread to think.

How fortunate for me then that I have a spouse who is in possession of a full license. How unfortunate for him that whenever we go out, he has to be the abstemious one because he is the one who has to get us home again in one piece. 

Delicious cocktails are often off-limits for the responsible driver.

There is a certain appeal then, in having an evening out where a car is unnecessary and my partner can have as much wine or as many cocktails as his heart desires. The Suite on Nicholson Road is within easy walking distance of our house and is our current favourite place to go.

Taking a short cut around Laker Jualbup and up Derby Road, The Suite is on the crossroads on Nicholson and Derby. It's an intimate space - the front area accommodating maybe 20 people comfortably. In warmer months, there are a couple of tables outside on the street. There is also a private dining area to the back of the restaurant.

When we go to The Suite we usually start with cocktails. Why? Because we can. Also, because they make interesting cocktails. The Red Queen -photo above - is rum-based (white rum, thank you very much, none of your Bundy tastes-like-rum-essence ghastliness) with a little citrus and a load of berries. I love currant flavours and this was blackcurrant rich with a raspberry edge and lots of raspberry pips. My partner had the apple and ginger margarita which for some reason I didn't photograph. Maybe because he drank it so fast (I jest! I jest!). 

The menu changes seasonally (always a good sign - a chef who pays attention to what is seasonal) and at the time we went, it was still decidedly winter. The style is small eats so we ordered a selection.

To begin with - small loaves of bread, olive oil and dukkah.

 Warm bread and things to dip it in. Lovely.

It's a good thing it was an grown-ups only night because our kids are mad for bread and olive oil. This was local - from Wambyn Olive Farm near York - quite a sharp tasting oil which I might not have liked especially on its own but which complemented the dukkah well.

Hello, chorizo!

One of my enduring favourites, glazed dried chorizo, was also there and the glaze was a dark glossy Pedro Ximenez offering. You can be sure that some of the bread intended for the olive oil and dukkah was put to good use making sure that every last sweet salty drop of glaze was  mopped up and the bowl made quite clean. I recently discovered that my first cousin lives within a few minutes drive of the Pedro Ximenez vineyard and I may have to reconnect with her for purely selfish reasons. (Again, lest you think me some sort of opportunist monster, I jest!).

As we were finishing the chorizo, out came the next two dishes.Chicken liver pate with sherry port jelly alongside onion jam and breadsticks; Merguez and green olive kofta with tomato relish. The kofta was crumbed which, for me, detracted rather from the taste of the filling. All I could really taste was the crumbing and I'm afraid that made me think of what my kids would call "a Birdseye Dinner". My partner, however, really enjoyed them, The chicken liver pate, however, was lovely and rich and my only regret was that there weren't more bread sticks to spread it on. The onion jam was tangy and sweet and we cleaned that bowl too.

Another two breadsticks would have been ideal...

 Crumbed koftas - not bad but not really my thing either. The tomato relish was the best bit.

The last dish that we had ordered was a cassoulet with a mini baguette. We ordered this especially because it contained Spencer's Brook sausage. We know the Spencer's Brook stand at the Subiaco Farmers Markets very well. We have had their smoked bacon and their sausages before and think that they are beyond delicious.

The cassoulet was served in a cute little cassoulet-pot and when the lid was lifted, was redolent with the scent of tomato and herbs.

 Eh, voila!

It was thick and hearty and went well with the bread. I don't think it was the right showcase for the Spencer's Brook sausage - I would have rather had a crispy, dark-skinned sausage (the way I would cook it at home on the barbecue) on the side, rather than see pale soft chunks of it mixed into the cassoulet.

By this time, we were ready for another drink. While we debating whether to go with wine or to have another cocktail  - and I almost decided to have a White Mistress, simply because it would have been so poetic after my Red Lady - I saw what the people at the table next to us were drinking. It looked great and I could smell it from where I was sitting. When our table was being cleared, I asked what it was.

 Cocktail lust at first sight (and smell).

It was an espresso martini. (I am told these are quite common on cocktail menus so evidently I don't get out as much as I think I do). I ordered one. We ordered a couple of glasses of sparkling primo secco as well but it was the martini that had me excited.

It arrived, dark with a light foamy layer on top and sprinkled with coffee beans. It was strong and bitter and divine. I may have exclaimed upon the first sip. The espresso martini was my new favourite cocktail right away.

 Foamy fun and added beans.

In summer, The Suite offers a delectable basil pannacotta with tomato jam for dessert. In winter, however, that option is not available, so we opted for the next best thing - a trio of cremes brulee. They arrived in little shot glasses, crisp sugar topping with little biscuits in between. One was chocolate, one was vanilla and one was ...I'm not sure, so I'll just say generic creme brulee. My favourite was the vanilla for a mouthful of speckled creaminess. 

 Three brulees are better than one.

We finished with coffees - in mugs this time rather than martini glasses - then settled up and headed home across the park.

I do recommend The Suite and not just because it is a walkable distance for me. It's cosy and friendly. The staff are pleasant and know their way around a wine list and a menu. We've always been able to get a table - in summer or in winter. Plus, they have a bar license so if an excellent espresso martini is all that you require, you can get one without having to order food. I do, however, strongly recommend ordering food if you have the time and the appetite.

Petite Mort: it's alive!

The sleepy western suburb of Shenton Park where I currently reside doesn't do too badly for eateries. Within walking distance of our house, we have Galileo (where I have NOT been able to get a booking - everytime I call, there is an answering machine to tell me just how booked out they are), The Suite (which I will post on later), Kiri Japanese Restaurant and Cicciobello's Pizza (a Friday night favourite of the family's -again, a separate post on this later). However, the culinary jewel in the crown used to be Star Anise -generally regarded as being among Perth's finest restaurants. To this I couldn't testify, as I never went there. Not long after I moved into the area, Chef David Coomer made the decision to close Star Anise -possibly to concentrate on his other restaurant, Pata Negra - and my chance was lost forever.

 Lake Jualup -the hub of Shenton Park, a good suburb for foodies.

However, a new opportunity now presents itself in the shape of the currently-under-construction Petite Mort on the old Star Anise site.

Ooh la la!

There has been a restaurant on this site as long as I can remember and I've been living in Shenton Park on and off since 1994. In our early days of courtship - blush! - my partner and I were regular customers at Kemal's Mahal - a decent Northern Indian concern. Later came a rather indifferent and over-priced Thai place whose name I cannot recall. Then there was Star Anise. Now there is Petite Mort and this is the name that is really going to make the haircurlers of the local residents tighten.

You don't have to know a lot of French to know that the name of the restaurant is French idiom for 'orgasm' so here's hoping that the food - currently being promoted as French tapas - is really, REALLY good. The new chef is Todd Stuart (formerly of Bouchard) and I have a feeling that this small plate restaurant is going to give The Suite on Nicholson (also small plate and tapas-style) a run for its money.

I went to have a peek through the windows the other day to see what they have done to the interiors.

 A more relaxed look than Star Anise had.

I had snooped through the window when it was Star Anise and I must say I like the new look better. The walls have been stripped back to the original brick, the floors polished up and there is new casual- and comfortable-looking brown plush seating and shiny grey tables. The down-lights create a cosy, intimate-yet relaxed space. I get the feeling that this is a restaurant that will be more welcoming and less exclusive than Star Anise was and that's all to the good for an average consumer like me.

 Sorry about the reflection - I had my iPhone pressed to the window...

The ads for potential staff say that Petite Mort will be opening in the next fortnight (around the third week in August) or so and I look forward to getting inside for a proper look-see and a taste of what's on offer.

Kemal's Mahal, it ain't.

PaPa Wok

When I’m not committing bloggery, I have a day job to keep the bank happy and the kids fed. I work in the suburb of West Perth, about a 15 minute walk from the CBD. I’ve worked here for the last three and a half years. I’m therefore fairly familiar with all the local eating places (apart from the fancier restaurants of which there are a fair few).

Last Thursday, since the sun was out for the first time in ages, I decided to take a stroll to the newly opened PaPa Wok on Colin Street.

Asian cafes are common in this area and the quality of the food varies (as does the price) so it’s always good when a new place comes along. Keeps everyone else honest.

It's on Colin Street in West Perth

PaPa Wok is on the corner of Hay and Colin. Inside it is is clean and would be considered somewhat utilitarian if it wasn’t for the acid yellow paint on the walls. There are tables filling the central space and along one wall. There were a couple of people eating in and a couple waiting. The woman behind the counter hailed me with a hearty greeting and asked what I wanted.

There was a menu board and a specials board.

 I came for the laksa...

 ...but stayed for the roti prata.

I had come for laksa, not only because it was a cold day where a hot and spicy laksa would go down a treat but also because of Laksa Thursday – a Twitter initiative which I have only just discovered and of which I completely approve.

However, there it was on the specials board: roti prata with chicken curry. Could. Not. Go. Past.

All dishes $9.90? Even better.

I placed my order and sat down to wait -  fragrance tickling my nostrils and memories tickling my mind. When I was a kiddie, visiting relatives in Singapore, roti prata was the Sunday morning dish of choice. What happened was that on the way to church, you would stop off at the prata shop with your tiffin-carrier, hand it to the 'roti prata man' and head off to your devotions. By the time that mass was over, your tiffin-can would have been filled with curry gravy in some tins and with fluffy crispy roti prata in the others. As you weren’t allowed to eat before church (something about keeping your body ‘pure’ for taking communion), a decent breakfast was a necessary post-church requirement.

These days, I have no time whatsoever for religion.For roti prata, however, I have all the time in the world.

I didn’t have to wait long –though I did have to wait as everything is made fresh -  a quick flick through an old copy of Spice magazine (farewell, Spice magazine, I will miss you!) and there was my lunch, delivered into my hand.

The woman was so sweet, thanking me for coming and hoping I would return. I ended up calling her ‘auntie’, the way we used to do in Singapore to show respect. I could hear my Singapore inflection creeping back in. Aiyah!

Back at the office, I went into the lunch-room and unwrapped my food. There was a good-size tub of kari ayam, deep orangey-red with chunks of potato and chicken therein. In a separate container, there were two roti prata. 

 They didn't cheat and use chicken on the bone - it was all meat.

 Would have been better consumed on site - next time, I may eat in.

I ripped the prata apart with my fingers and dipped into the sauce. Ooh. Authentic. (So authentic, I felt like I’d just come out of church.) It was a tasty curry, neither too spicy nor too mild with the curry leaves still in and a vivid red layer of oil on top (this is a Good Thing in terms of authenticity if not in terms of health – it means that they left the chicken skin on the chicken). The meat was tender and there were no bones. There was potato –large chunks of it.

The roti was also the real deal – not super-shiny with oil but with enough of a glisten to make me feel that I was indulging. I suspect that if I had stayed and eaten them in the shop then they would have been crispier but as it was they had held their texture very well during the short walk back and they pulled apart in delicious soft layers.

I will be going back to PaPa Wok. The trick will be to avoid ordering the prata every time so I can get a chance to try the other goodies on the menu, all of which, I suspect, will have that genuine flavour. Will I ever get around to the laksa? Because one of my other favourites is kway teow and then there is the chicken rice and then there is the barbeque pork rice...

 PaPa Wok - has a charm of its own (I know, I know, BAD pun...)

The Green House

It's another Saturday where it is just small son and myself, hanging out. My partner is working the Saturday shift and big son is away in Geraldton on camp with the wonderful Kids Camps. (We love Kids Camps - big son is always happy to have a break from us and we don't really realise how much we need the respite care until we get it). We had some shopping to do so we caught the bus into the city. It stopped, by chance, right outside Green House cafe/restaurant - somewhere I have heard about, seen blogged about but never been to. As we had planned a late breakfast or morning tea, it seemed like the perfect place to eat. I love serendipity.

Green House is distinguished from all the other buildings on St George's Terrace by its facade of terracotta and green.

This is because the whole building is covered in a metal cage and each little enclosure of the cage contains a pot plant with something growing in it. A reticulation system keeps the plants watered which means that in summer, the exterior walls of the restaurant are a rustling mass of leaves. Right now, being winter, the red clay of the pots can be seen plus a few green sprigs. As you can imagine, this is a place that stands out, surrounded as it is by cement and brick and glass and metal edifices.

We got a warm welcome, a choice of table and a compliment within 5 minutes of walking through the door. Okay, the compliment wasn't for me - it was for small son, a snappy dresser who was told by the waitress "We all love your 'Mighty Boosh' t-shirt". My sartorially savvy youngster was pretty pleased about this.

Two glasses of water appeared plus a dish of salt-flakes. We hardly had time to admire the decor - exposed pipes and tubing - when the menu arrived. We placed our drinks order - mocha coffee for two. This was a huge treat for small son who isn't usually allowed coffee. Sometimes, he is allowed to order decaf but rarely does he get a chance to have any of the real stuff.

 Salt flakes on a stripey table.

Steampunky-y plumbing

They were good coffees. The right temperature, smooth and not overly sweet. It tasted like a coffee with some chocolate in it and not like hot chocolate with a spoon of coffee which is how it should be when all is right with the world.

The menu was perused. I like a menu where there a a few interesting choices rather than many bland ones. "What's quince?" small son wanted to know. I explained that it wasn't just a high-scoring word in Scrabble but a rather yummy, if modish, fruit that tasted something like an apple and something like a pear. His next question,"What's mascarpone?"

"It's when you blindfold a small horse."

He gave me a look that made me feel old and unfunny which is probably what I am.

 I enjoyed reading all the extra detail on the menu about the gardening that was taking place on the roof.

At any rate, he recovered from my bad puns long enough to order the quince upside-down cake with marscapone. I decided to order the breakfast pizza -there was no description of it on the menu - simply the words 'brekkie pizza' but I was in a good mood so took a chance.

Flipping the menu over, I was delighted to find a drinks menu for breakfast drinks. How civilised and fun to find it acknowledged that with a good breakfast sometimes you need a little more than coffee. There was a selection of recommended breakfast cocktails as well as a choice of bubbles (Italian prosecco and real champagne). I ordered the drink that sounded most interesting to me - the one that mentioned rhubarb.

 What they said - coffee, sometimes, is just not enough.

Small son was very excited when his quince cake appeared served in a flower-pot base.  It was warm and generously strewn with mint that had been harvested from the cafe roof-top. "Ooh," he exclaimed, digging into it with his spoon, "Smell this!" It was spicy and minty and comforting. "The mascarpone is like butter!" he added, passing me his spoon so I could have a taste. Evidently, I had been forgiven for my earlier attempt at humour. It was a gorgeous moist cake and I think that the quince had been poached in wine or possibly port

.The mint was grown in tubs on the roof.

Mascarpone - nothing to do with horses.

The breakfast pizza proved to be well-sized  - a good ruler-width in diameter - and elegant. A crumbly, thin base which I am guessing was made with polenta or possibly millet, sprinkled with oil and salt, dolloped with goat's cheese and slices of fresh tomato. It was good earthy, peasant food and had come out of the large wood-fired oven that dominates the whole of the Green House kitchen. Despite the size, I did finish it all. It was so good and such a classic combination of flavours, although I did find myself wishing that they had included a little fresh basil. I guess it's the wrong season to be hoping for basil.

I'm pretty sure there were caraway seeds thereupon.

The piece de resistance though, was my cocktail. I think I got a waft of lime zest before it even reached the table. It was a beautiful blush colour thanks to the Aperol and was poured over crushed ice and topped with a perfect lime swirl. To me it tasted more of grapefruit than of rhubarb but perhaps that's how rhubarb tastes when you mix it with gin...

I have to say that the service was great. They were attentive without being obtrusive and that's a difficult balance to achieve. It was noticed when my drink was finished and I was asked if I wanted another and not pressured to order when I said I was fine.

We had no trouble getting a table but I think that, as we were leaving, the lunch crowd were just starting to give a sense of a queue. I must admit that I'd like to get back sometime and see what's for lunch (and what's for dinner).

On the way out, we ventured up to the roof to see the garden (which also doubles as a bar). It's an interesting space, exposed as it is to the windy Terrace and not getting a lot of sun on account of the fact that it is surrounded by high-rise office buildings but there in tubs all around were herbs and salad greens and other leafy things.

Tub of mint.

Small son though it was pretty cool and even allowed me to take his photo.

 Check out the groovy t-shirt.

Green House is definitely worth a try if you haven't been. We were sorry to have to go but we had shopping to do. On a more leisurely day, it would be great to go with a few friends, order a few more dishes and try a few other cocktails. We'll definitely go back.

We'll be back again soon.

Wild thing.

There’s an edge to the breeze coming off the Indian Ocean and the rain is still drizzling down as we step out into the street. We’ve had a lovely evening listening to classical music – thank you, Duncan Gardiner, I know you won’t mind me dropping your name – and now it’s time for something to eat. We get in our cars and drive through the main Fremantle café strip, out where it is quieter and less crowded to the corner of Wray Avenue where we find Wild Poppy.



I’ve been to Wild Poppy before on a coffee-and-cake visit but haven’t had the chance to try their dinner menu yet. Everyone who has been tells me that it is good, interesting, value-for-money and kid-friendly.  I rang the evening before to make a booking and the cheerful woman on the other end of the phone told me that they didn’t take bookings but if we turned up around 7.30pm there would definitely be room for our group of 6. She was right – only one other table is occupied as we enter.

Inside, there is an eclectic décor style – as if someone has cherry-picked art and china and sofas from a verge collection in one of Perth’s better suburbs. It’s warm, comfortable and unthreateningly boho. I want my own recycled-doily lampshade.

Can I buy one from somewhere or do I have to source and make my own?

Water is poured (and spilled and cleaned up and apologies made), menus are brought and we see that there are a range of ‘tasty plates’ which can be had as entrees or as tapas-style dining and a mains menu. There’s much to love – what we have here isn’t the usual ‘modern Australian’ fare (except, perhaps, the chilli mussels) and to fine a menu where the most expensive dish is $26 is something I thought I would never see again in Perth.





A couple of bottles of friendly Prosecco ($25 each, the mark-up is not huge) get us in good spirits for ordering. Who can go past anything that sounds as delicious as vine-wrapped brie with watermelon-rind jam? The children want squid wings and sausages.

For mains, I choose the mussels with chilli jam and coconut cream; my partner and my friend, Luke, go for the grilled goats cheese with rosti and mushrooms; my other friend, Duncan, has the butternut risotto cakes while my older son plumps for the quail and papaya salad. My small son is not a huge eater so he chooses a tasty plate of Thai pork and peanut sausage.

The grilled vine-wrapped brie turns out to be as good as it sounded. The vine leaves are crisp and scented as you bite through them to get to the oozy, melty brie in the centre. I decide there and then that I need to find out more about watermelon rind jam because it is the perfect fragrant accompaniment to the cheese – sweet but with a tang and astringency that sets of the creaminess of the brie but still sticky and gelatinous and coloured like milk-jade..

Vine-wrapped brie and watermelon-rind jam.

Small son is very happy with his sausage which comes on a banana leaf (on a plate) with a wedge of lime and slivers of chilli on top. I get a bite because I am the mother and I insist. It has substantial chunks of peanut and isn’t super-hot but doesn’t lack in ‘bite’.

A squeeze of lime just gives an extra kick to the chilli/peanut combo.

[Aside: perhaps I will blog about this separately another time, but I like that my kids can choose what they want from any menu in any restaurant and not be phased by new taste sensations and especially that they are not put off by the idea of chilli. Sure they have their likes and dislikes when it comes to food, but they are not picky and that means dining out is something we can do as a family and doesn’t necessarily involve fast-food restaurants.]

The squid wings are substantial and chunky with a decent dollop of fresh, piquant aioli on the side. My older son polishes them off because he is fourteen and over 6 foot tall and has an appetite to match.

Wings not rings.

The mains take a while to come but we are pleased with them when they do. I have to be in a very particular mood to order chilli mussels and these suit me down to the ground. One of the issues that I have with this dish normally is that the sauce is too thin, but tonight the liquid has substance. The coconut cream helps to thicken it up and there are good-sized morsels of fresh chilli clinging to the mussels and the bean-sprouts. There’s an extra dish for empty shells and bread to mop up the ‘juice’. Very nice.





The other dishes are generous. The goat’s cheese is a substantial serve and the butternut risotto cakes come in a cluster of three. The dish I envy most is my older son’s quail with papaya salad, the quail is crispy-skinned and smells glorious. They have even put a boiled quail’s egg on the side – can we say ‘Mother and Child Reunion? – and the papaya salad has burn and is vinegary.

Goat's cheese

A butternut take on arancini

Crispy-skinned quail

I love a quail egg - soft-boiled quail egg, even better!



We clean our plates and some of us still have room for dessert – the standout of which was the saffron crème brulee – not just because of its delicate texture and scent under the crackly toffee, but also because it goes so nicely with the retro table-cloth. It was Luke’s crème brulee but he was very generous about letting me have spoonfuls and when I go back, because I will go back, I intend to have one all to myself.

Saffron is for the dish and for the decor.

This is a great little eatery which won’t remain undiscovered for long. I’m glad we got the chance to visit before it becomes trendy. I hope it won’t become trendy but it is the eternal dilemma of hoping that a restaurant will stay quiet enough to remain under the radar but get above the radar enough to stay in business.

>