Third time a charm. I think that's what the saying is. Certainly the third French dinner at Three Bags Full was full of all that is charming.
Having been to the first dégustation in November and loved it, I was excited to see what the January offering
would be. I was not disappointed.
Fabien and Nico describe their food as
simple. Initially, I raised my eyebrows (perhaps, or hopefully, in a Parisian
sort of way) at this description, as their talent with flavour and the execution
of the food is exceptional. However, while these are not dishes we might whip
up at home and eat on the couch while watching the tennis, they do celebrate
simple, clean flavours and the chefs have not over-complicated their dishes
with an over-indulgent list of fancy ingredients.
Considerate presentation creates a
feeling of an event and Fabien and Nico do this well, with a variety of canvases
for their thoughtfully composed food: a cricket bat, a stone, a bingo card to
name a few.
Primed with a superb apéritif of rosé pamplemousse: beautifully
refreshing sourness of grapefruit syrup with the playfulness of a summery rosé
behind it, I was ready for the appetisers, three tiny morsels of exquisite
flavour.
George V Cake, named for the Parisian
hotel off the Champs-Elysées they both
worked in before coming to Melbourne, was a savoury cake of rocket, gruyère and
field mushroom. Similar to a frittata, it was warm and nutty with light,
buttery flavours and a delicate texture.
Guimauve is French for marshmallow and parmesan
guimauve was a savoury rendition made from vegetable stock infused with
parmesan and a natural gelatine sourced from seaweed, coated in a dehydrated
olive and almond meal crumb. Exquisitely light with a salty crunch.
Lightly cooked cured salmon rolled in a
red shiso leaf (an Asian herb from the mint family) served with mango dressing
and perched on a small rock was light and fresh.
An amuse-bouche was next. Chilled soup made from cantaloupe and lemon
myrtle, an Australian native herb similar to lemon mint, topped with a capsicum
and espelette (south western French spice) mousse and garnished with a chorizo brunoise,
which for those not well-versed in their French cooking vocabulary, refers to
the way the chorizo was cut, that is, into tiny flavoursome sprinkles. Fruity
and spicy and salty, the mousse was the most smooth and velvety mousse I have
ever tasted and provided the perfect contrast to the almost earthiness of the
sweet, but not too sweet, cantaloupe.
The entrée was tempura-battered yellow fin tuna jauntily set on a bed of
courgette, olives and confit tomatoes and dressed with escabèche, a French
pickling marinade with a slightly aniseed flavour. This work of art was
accompanied by a tomato sorbet. The harmony of crunchy and rich and frozen and
tangy was beautiful.
The main course, or plat de résistance
for those who like to be Frenchy about it, was perfectly roasted veal rump on the
most incredible eggplant, parmesan and sparkling white wine purée, served with a
shaved fennel and mizuna salad.
To finish, lemon curd and basil ravioli
with strawberries pan-fried in pineau de Charente with fresh peaches and a
strawberry and peach sauce poured over the top at the table. A buttery sable Breton
biscuit hidden amongst the fruit, it was like eating summer. Playful. Tart.
Fruity sunshine.
My hosts for the evening were warm and welcoming. Nico and Fabien brought many of the dishes to the tables to explain what was in them and the ideas behind them. And they did it in a completely relaxed way as though they hadn't just been creating magic in the kitchen only seconds before.
When a mouthful of food transports you
somewhere else, as in, out of your body and into a whole other realm, it is a
very good thing. I spent most of the meal floating somewhere above the table
with a ridiculous grin.
