OYSTER - LITTLE BOURKE
35 Little Bourke St, Melbourne
PH: 03 9650 0988
www.oysterlittlebourke.com.au

 

There’s one thing wrong with Oyster – a new upmarket eatery in mid-town Melbourne. It’s not the food, not the ambience, not the stylish look of the place, not the service, not the location. It’s the name. When I see a place called Oyster I am expecting a mollusc and seafood bonanza. A culinary trip to Davy Jones’ Locker.

Not so at Oyster. Sure, they have oysters. On my second visit we had the choice of some of the best oysters in the world. Coffin Bay and Streaky Bay and Smokey Bay from South Australia.  And they’ll serve them a variety of ways including Kilpatrick and crumbed and fried. Although with those gems natural is best. On my first visit I disguised some huge Tasmanian oysters by having them crumbed and fried and they were fine.

Also from the seafood department they also have a fantastic crispy-skin slice of Tasmanian salmon with a branch of cherry tomatoes draped across it.  And BBQ king prawns and barramundi.

But then the carnivores take over. There’s a 350 gram rib eye, a 280 gram porterhouse, a huge veal cutlet crusted with parmesan and pistachio, roast duck and slow-roasted pork belly.

Mrs. Nosebag came away from Oyster raving that it was a great culinary experience. One of the best meals she had had in years and she raved to friends about this new, great place.

Second time around, only a month later she was less impressed. The presentation didn’t have quite the flair. Like the cherry tomatoes no longer still attached to the vine. It was good but now ranked as a ‘good restaurant’ rather than something to gush about.

I’ll concede my main course was a bit of a let-down. I ordered the Saturday night special. A Spanish paella. ‘Pay-ella’ we call it. ‘Pay-ay-a’ they call it. It was a generous serving of prawns and fish and chorizo sausage on a traditional bed of saffron. I was given a spoon to mop up the juices. I didn’t need it. This paella was as dry as an Arab camel driver’s armpit. I suspected the dish had been ‘zapped’ just before it left the kitchen to make sure it was hot. And there was proof. Dried, crusty, rice, leaving a ‘high tide’ mark around the bowl. It was tasty but dry.

And to wrap up Oyster it gives me an excuse to tell a couple of favourite oyster stories.

Back in the last century when The Hungry Hinch had a lengthy sojourn in New York I used to take part in an annual ritual. The holiday and business ritual, after the flight back to Australia for some R and R, did not officially start until that ritual had been performed.

It involved a pilgrimage to Doyle’s at Watson’s Bay in Sydney, then and now, one of the most famous fish restaurants in Australia.

I would instantly order a dozen Sydney rock oysters to be served with the traditional creamy tomato mayonnaise dipping sauce and small triangles of buttered brown bread. Plus a bottle of very cold and crispy Houghton’s white burgundy.

The first metallic oyster, the first sip of the chilled wine with Sydney  Harbour and the Bridge in the background… and ahhh….I was home.

That went on for years. Actually, having been raised in New Zealand I was never a huge oyster fan. Especially raw ones.  Mainly because oysters there were called Bluff oysters from Stewart Island.  They were so big you needed a knife and fork to eat them and they were very, very strong in taste. Fried they were delicious. Raw. No thanks. My Dad loved them. Brought home pottles, long slim bottles, from the local fish and chips shop.

Looking back at Doyle’s even then they had to have the sauce to make them palatable. And they often left that metallic tickle in the back of the throat.

I have since, through diligent research, discovered that that metallic tickle comes from zinc. There is a lot of zinc in oysters. There is a lot of zinc in semen (I’m told). That’s why oysters are touted as an aphrodisiac. That’s why people make jokes about “I ate a dozen oysters last night and only six of them worked”. Boom, Boom. And I thought this was a food column.

Back then, Sydney Rocks  were the only way to go. Until a couple of oyster bed scandals with a couple of major food poisoning incidents from Georges River oysters. The mollusc’s image was not enhanced when it turned out one man illegally still selling George’s River oysters during a ban was actually the president of the oyster growers association.

Then, The Hungry Hinch had a two-year sojourn in Adelaide and discovered three things:

South Australian oysters, shiraz and gorgeous women. Three out of three aint bad and he was spoiled rotten.

South Australian oysters are so good -- and so far ahead of any other Australian oysters --  that I rarely eat oysters in a restaurant if  they come from somewhere else. They make Sydney Rocks rate about a 3 out of 10. Tasmanian oysters don’t count either.

Coffin Bay are the best.  Followed by Streaky Bay and Smokey Bay and then Kangaroo Island. They are so clean and fresh you can actually taste the brine. They are so good because they are grown in clean water beds near the cold Antarctic waters. The water sluices through them at 7 knots cleaning them and each oyster takes in and emits 30 litres of cleansing, filtering water, every hour.

 In Melbourne and Sydney restaurants they now not only serve them in half dozen and dozen lots. They serve them per piece for between $2.30 and $4.00 an oyster. But $48 for a dozen oysters – which we paid in Sydney recently -- is madness. When people close to The Hungry Hinch owned a restaurant they would always serve seven oysters in a half dozen. Patrons loved it. Even if we did adjust the price to compensate.

In Queensland at a restaurant called Shuck on Main Beach, on the Gold Coast, it was an interesting experience. Very pleasant. And with a name like Shuck they have to be very serious about oysters.

Tried a lethal oyster and Bloody Mary shooter. The people at the next table dangerously ordered 15 of them.

A lot of restaurants are serving oyster shooters in shot glasses these days from around three bucks a time. The favourite is the Bloody Mary mix but one I liked was the increasingly popular wasabi (Japanese horseradish) mix.

Recently had a couple at Riva before the entree. These shooters were a virulent mixture of vodka and tequila plus the oyster. God knows what the alcohol level was.

Decided never to have them again. I think a mate and I were almost  ‘shickered’ (to use an old New Zealand term) before we got to the food.

Anyway, remember two things. It was a brave man who ate the first oyster and as Dad used to say:  A noisy noise annoys a noisy oyster. Whatever did that mean???

August 8, 2006