Brodburger

After a day of walking around Canberran suburbs to look for a potential apartment, my boyfriend and I worked up the kind of appetite that can only be fully satisfied by giant juicy burgers. 

It wasn’t hard to pick where we’d get said delicious burgers.  I haven’t been in Canberra too long, but the overwhelming word on the street has been that Brodburger is like, the place for burgers.  I’ve also been wondering about the no-longer-occupied red van I pass everyday on Waverly Street and its origins.

We got to Brodburger at 5:30 on a Saturday night, just in time for the dinner opening.  Had we waited a mere five minutes, we would have found ourselves in an overflowing line nearly out the door.

Brodburger’s main menu has something to offer everyone, from beef, chicken, veggie and fish.  I nearly went for the fish, but felt I’d be cheating myself from the proper burger experience and went for the classic Brodburger flame grilled beef patty ($12.50) instead. I ordered and was surprised to hear Mark ask for the Broddeluxe ($18).  Both of us were too hungry to give the menu much attention; I saw the Broddeluxe was a pound of meat and therefore too much to handle; Mark saw the Broddeluxe was a pound of meat with another pound of bacon  and deemed it the clear winner.

Each burger is equipped with cheese (a burger just isn’t a burger without cheese) and the customer can choose from blue, brie, swiss or cheddar.  I normally opt for the traditional cheddar, but was intrigued by the brie choice and decided to step outside my burger comfort zone for a night.  Chips are not included with the meal, so we ordered a large portion ($4) to split between us.  In retrospect, this was a mistake–if I had to impart any advice to Brodburger first-timers, it’d be to skip the chips all together.

We sat in the dining room filled with large communal tables, sipped on White Rabbit dark ale and waited about 15 minutes for our burgers.  A girl placed my burger on the table first, and I was impressed by the size until I saw Mark’s Broddeluxe, which totally eclipsed my meal.  All we could do for a few minutes was marvel at its size and density; Mark inspected it from all sides to figure out how exactly one should attempt to eat such a meat montrosity.

I started on my burger while Mark prepared himself for what was to come.  The brie was a good decision–it added a subtle sweet flavour that complimented the aoili, tomato relish and spanish onions well.  Mark dug in, as globs of cheddar cheese oozed from the double beef patties wedged in between mass amounts of bacon. 

I think I was too distracted by what was on Mark’s plate to appreciate my own meal, which was tasty but paled in comparison.  I ate my burger, while eyeing Mark’s with suspicion, wondering if there was more on that thing than just cheese, meat, salad and sauce(s).  I saw a lot of white and yellows pouring out the sides and asked Mark if there was an egg somewhere inside the burger.

“Nah, I think it’s just mayo and a lot of cheese,” he answered with confidence.

A few minutes later, when he was halfway through, he declared that yes, there was egg, and not just one, but two.  I found it impressive that one burger could hide from its consumer that it also contained an entire breakfast.

I polished off my burger as Mark hit the halfway mark, slowing down and showing signs of struggle at this point.  My burger was filling, but not in a I’m going to be sick way.

We still had an entire plate of chips, which both of us had lost interest in.  It’s like Brodburger knows that diners will be too full and engrossed by their burgers to care about chips, and therefore put no effort into cooking them.  They are thin and dull, becoming a burden as you feel obligated to eat them since you were so adament about ordering them.  Save yourself the trouble and don’t bother with the chips–your burger will be more than enough (especially if you get the Broddeluxe). 

I forced myself to eat chips, so we wouldn’t feel guilty about wasting them, while Mark continued his mission to conquer the Deluxe.  Finally, ten minutes later, he polished off the last bite, proving that one person could eat that much food in one sitting without throwing up. 

We were both happy with our first Brodburger experience, although I don’t think there will be any Deluxes in the near future unless a marathon has been run. 

Is Brodburger the best burger-joint around?  I have nothing to compare it to yet, but I come from the land of burgers and have to say, Brod is good, but still not up there with America’s finest!

Sunday Splurge: The Old Bus Depot Markets

Last Sunday, I spent my first morning in Canberra aimlessly wandering around Kingston to become better acquainted with my new home.   Mostly, I came across leafy neighborhoods and apartment complexes, as well as Green Square, where friends and families gathered at cafes for Sunday brunch. 

Eventually, I happened upon the Old Bus Depot Markets off Waverley Avenue and was delighted to see a big warehouse full of bustling activity, with a set-up of about a hundred stalls, selling food, houseware, clothes, collectibles, antiques and other trinkets.   The market is modest-sized—it’s smaller than Melbourne’s Queen Victoria Market or Bangkok’s famous JJ Market—but this made the market approachable and easy to navigate.

It felt like stumbling upon a gold mine–I had spent most the morning strolling through the eerily quiet suburb, with a waning hope that I’d find much stimulation. 

By that point, I was tired from hours of walking, so I had a glance around and resigned to come back the next week, fresh and hungry, to take full advantage of what looked to be a food lover’s oasis.

The following Sunday, I skipped breakfast, waited until I felt sufficiently starved, then headed to the Old Bus Depot Markets.  It was a beautiful winter morning in Canberra—not a cloud in the sky with a refreshing chill in the air, perfect for spending an afternoon at the market.

Coffee vendors were strategically positioned at both main entrances, catching the incoming shoppers who needed their morning cup of Joe before facing the lively market.  I waited in a long queue, under the usual zombie-like trance that precedes my first cup of coffee, as two baristas quickly cranked out cup after cup.  The coffee was made with Wagonga Coffee beans, and my flat white was hot and strong without being too bitter.

With caffeine in my bloodstream, it was time to explore the market.  I headed to the lower level where the food stalls were set up, most of which offered samples to shoppers.  I walked around and tried different olives, cheeses, jams, fudge and nuts, revving up my appetite.  Normally, I feel slightly awkward about sampling if I’m not sure I want to buy the product, but there’s no shame at the OBDM.  You’ll be surrounded by hundreds of others doing the same, some making second and third rounds at the sampling tables.  If you’re a more serious sampler, there’s always a representative on standby, who will tell you how the product was made and where it comes from. 

I headed toward the back of the warehouse, where a circle of lunch stalls served customers fresh food cafeteria-style.  It was a diverse selection, including Laotian, Ethiopian, Mexican, Spanish as well as stalls dedicated to pancakes and potatoes.  Everything looked and smelled delicious, but I narrowed my choice to the cuisine I hadn’t tried before—Ethiopian.  I ordered a small portion of vegetable curry and chicken coconut over rice from Fekerte’s Ethiopian Cuisine, thanking God I didn’t get the large because I felt full after three bites.  It didn’t look like a lot, but Ethiopian food is dense and seemed to expand once it hit my stomach.  The meal was sweet and hearty, serving as perfect “comfort” food, and I’d like to try the spicier dishes next time.

Don’t need to tell me twice!

Leaving the lunch area, I stopped at the most vivid and interesting stall in the warehouse, where one man was serving orange juice and warm drinks.  He did an excellent job of creating atmosphere, piling up crates upon crates of bright oranges and hanging a giant orange decoration overhead.  Colorful signs advertised his products, and a large painting of lush fields was propped overhead.  Steam spiraled out of three giant pots, where hot drinks promised to quench a winter’s thirst, stopping shoppers in their tracks.  I wasn’t particularly thirsty, but between the display and smell of spices wafting from the pots, I couldn’t resist.  Carrying out the theme of “trying new things,” I opted for the mulled wine, in which giant cinnamon sticks simmered.  Mulled wine is a popular Christmas drink in England and warms Australians during the winter, but hasn’t caught on back in America. 

One sip of this drink will bring you back to a Christmas Eve (in the Northern Hemisphere) by the fire, as snow falls outside.  Mulled wine, with its careful mixture of spices, sweetness and hot wine, has the power of warming you to the core of your soul—it’s that good.  The stall (Jo’s Juice) also sells spiced apple cider, a hot honey, lemon and ginger drink, as well as lemonade, orange and apple juice. 

I ventured out to the other food stalls and browsed a collection of teas and even noticed someone selling chia seed.  There was a lot on display, such as homemade pastas, pizza, bread, honey, chutney, curry paste, meats and sauces.  Every product was local and advertised as fresh, made with quality (often gluten-free) ingredients.  For many small food businesses in the area, the OBDM is a great opportunity to make a debut to the community.  A shopper doesn’t have to wait every Sunday to buy a product they like—most of the stalls have a shop, phone number or webpage to put through orders.

At this point, my mouth was watering at the sight of cookies, chocolate and muffins, making it time for dessert.  I probably made five laps around the food market before coming to a decision, since there was tempting macaroons, fudge and baked goods spilling from all directions.  Finally, I stopped at the Divine and Delicious stall and gazed in awe at their dessert cabinet, filled with muffins, cupcakes and brownies. 

“What can I get you?” the girl behind the counter asked.

“Uh…uh…uh….” I stammered, at a loss whether to get the white chocolate macadamia blondie, the caramel and hazelnut fudge slice, or one of the other ten items that looked life changing. 

In the end, I chose a pecan and chocolate fudge slice, and divine and delicious it was.  The brownie was dense and moist, each bite providing chewy, sweet and nutty goodness. I went back to the stall to write down Divine and Delicious’s information and was floored to see that I had unconsciously ordered something gluten-free.  Who know gluten-free could taste so good and so unhealthy?

Feeling full and satisfied, I left the market and went to a nearby park for a walk, to ease the effects of a gluttonous afternoon. 

But what are Sundays for, if not to splurge and feel guilt-free afterwards?

The Old Bus Depot Markets are open every Sunday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.  An upcoming event is “Green Savy Sunday,” on September 16^th, in which the market will be geared toward sustainable living and stalls will focus on products that have been recycled or made with low energy or using organic techniques.  Find out more about the markets here- Old Bus Depot Markets

Alice’s Thai Restaurant

I was on my pre-lunch stroll around Canberra’s city centre, scoping the area for the perfect spot to eat, when a row of Japanese restaurants caught my eye from across the street.  Newspaper clippings boasting each restaurant’s excellency plastered the store windows, spiking my curiosity.  However, I never made it to the Japanese restaurants, stopping short at Alice’s Thai Restaurant, in East Row Sydney building.

Alice’s restaurant is inconspicuous–you’ll see the restaurant sign then struggle for a minute to find its counterpart–but a large bulletin board on the sidewalk advertising lunch specials was enough to lure me inside.  The special menu offered ten meal choices for $10, mostly basic curries and stir-fry dishes, rice included.  I’m forever craving Thai food, but outside of Thailand, it’s one of the pricier cuisines.  I find it hard shelling out $25 for meals that didn’t exceed $3 back in the land of smiles.    

Despite its plain exterior, Alice’s inside is a dim-lit dining room thoughtfully arranged, with an authentic Thai atmosphere.  Colorful elephant tapestries hang from the walls, along with photographs of King Bhumibol and paintings of a golden temple and floating market.  There was a faint smell of incense, but I couldn’t find a source to confirm this.

The restaurant had a steady lunch-time crowd, but I was sat and gave my order of chicken green curry within minutes.  I went to the bathroom to wash my hands and wasn’t back at the table for more than two minutes when my meal arrived. 

“Wow, that was fast,” I said, thinking I had at least ten more minutes to chill out and look around before it was time to dig in. 

We all want our meals to come out in a timely manner, but this was almost too fast.  Behind a good meal, there should be some effort in the preparation process, but I suspected this dish might have done a quickie in the microwave.  But who knows, maybe there is a chef for every patron in Alice’s kitchen, and they all bring their A-game, cranking out five-star food by the minute.

I’d say I got what I paid for.  This is the first Thai curry I’ve eaten since leaving Thailand (with the exception of my boyfriend’s attempt to make panang), so perhaps my expectations were too high.  Alice’s is an authentic Thai restaurant, but I’m going to say it’s next-to-impossible here in Canberra to obtain the same fresh and traditional ingredients found in Thailand. 

It wasn’t the best green curry I’ve had, but far from the worse.  The chicken was thin and rubbery, and the curry a bit watered-down, perhaps lacking in coconut milk.  I was pleased with the amount of spice—mild, but enough to make my face tingle.  There was a generous portion of vegetables, including carrot, cucumber, red capsicum and bamboo shoots. My dining experience lasted no more than 20 minutes, and I’ll most likely forget I ever ate Alice’s after I finish this post.

By ordering from the low-price lunch menu, I may have sacrificed quality, so I’ll come back when I’m feeling less thrifty and order a meal from the extensive main menu (67 options excluding some tasty looking desserts).

Until then, I’ll keep dreaming of Thailand and its culinary ingenuity.

Food spotlight: Ch-ch-ch-chia seed!

I’m not sure which American fads of the ’80s and ’90s ever made it to Australia, so bear with me while I recount the era of Chia Pets, as it’ll help us better understand our subject: the chia seed.

If you’re wondering what the hell a Chia Pet is, let me explain.  For a while, the children of America put down their teddy bears and dolls for a collection of oddball figurines, which could grow green “fur” or “hair,” through moistened chia seed applied to their terracotta bodies.  The chia would turn to gel, and sprouts would crop up within a few weeks, serving as endless wonder for proud Chia Pet owners. 

My personal fascination with Chia Pets stemmed from the catchy singing commercials (“ch-ch-ch-Chia!”) which filled American airwaves for about 20 years.  I must have had quite an ego at age five, because all I ever heard was “Ta-ta-ta-Tina! Tina pets!”  My heart would swell with pride whenever the grass-like chia sprouted from the porous clay-like critters, which ranged from chia puppies and hippos to chia professors and clowns.  My Tina pets. 

This lasted a while until my big sister visited one weekend and corrected me, as big sisters are wont to do. 

“You know, it’s ch-ch-ch-chia, not ta-ta-ta-Tina.”

Despite her argument, which made sense, I remained in denial and didn’t accept the truth until much, much later in life.

Unfortunately, my self-interest in Chia Pet commercials caused me to overlook the real intrigue—these curious little creatures were growing green stuff out of their backs, heads and torsos in a matter of weeks, with little effort from their caretakers.  One simply needed to soak the Chia Pet in water, spread the seeds, place it in a sunny area of the house and let the magic happen.  This should have been wildly fascinating, but it was lost on me, and I never desired a Chia Pet.  Hearing my name in a TV jingle was gratifying enough.

I regret this, because maybe if I had a Chia Pet, the seeds would have been planted for an interest in science, paving the way for a future as a biologist, which would have been cool.

Chia dropped off my radar for the next 15 years, until a friend recommended I read Born to Run, by American journalist Christopher McDougall.

In Born to Run, McDougall travels to the Copper Canyons of northwest Mexico.  His mission is to track down the reticent Tarahumara, one of the most mysterious and primitive Indian tribes left in the world.   The Tarahumara are known as the “running people,” as they’re capable of effortlessly running 100 miles a day, in one go.  If you think this is superhuman, get this: they run through unforgiving terrain in thin, hand-made sandals, resembling what it’s like to run barefoot.

Always the aspiring distance-runner, I absorbed every detail McDougall reported on the Tarahumara, in hopes that some beneficial revelation would be made, which I could emulate to improve my own endurance.

It seemed to me the Tarahumara were blessed with superior genes–they were literally born to run.  I don’t know what I was born to do, but after a lap around the block, I’m certain it’s not running.  In order to be a semi-decent runner, I have to train my heart out for several painstaking months, and when one sedentary week comes along, it’s back to the huffing-and-puffing start.    

McDougall raised my hopes when he described the Tarahumara diet, a major staple being chia seed.  Chia seed is full of omega-3 fatty acids and antioxidants, which the body can store for long periods of time, keeping our energy tanks full.  Not to mention, chia seed provides nutrition we’re all constantly after, like protein, dietary fiber, calcium and iron, among other healthy nutrients and minerals.  Dieters have flocked to chia seed, as it allegedly tricks our stomachs into thinking they’re full. 

Along with our beloved Chia Pets and superhuman Tarahumara, the ancient Aztec and Mayan warriors reaped its benefits as well.  They ate this stuff to survive.  It’s been said one tablespoon of chia was enough to sustain a person for 24 hours.  And to think, I’ve been eating my weight in pasta before any physical exertion to keep myself going.      

I immediately went to my local health food store to see if they carried chia seed and fortunately, it was in stock.  There are endless ways to eat or drink chia, but I did what was inherent to an American college student and spooned it onto my peanut butter sandwiches or into my ramen noodle soup.  I eventually realized I could probably do better and found a raspberry and walnut quinoa recipe.  Quinoa (keen-wa) is another super food worth checking out—it’s a cross between rice and couscous and is nothing but good for you.

Chia is relatively tasteless—you could add it to anything–but I found its texture to be a little weird.  When chia seed is the least bit moistened, it wants to turn into gel, so it’s best to not let it linger in your mouth too long.  Runners are big into their energy gels (this has always eluded me), so many will consume their chia after soaking it in water for about 30 minutes.  Either way, it’ll turn into gel once it hits your stomach, making you feel full due to the increased size and weight. 

When I first added chia to my diet, I naively believed it was the magic potion I needed to get lean and turn into an ultra-distance runner overnight.  Even with chia, I still wanted to eat lots of cookies, thought about stopping two miles into a run, while sweating profusely and experiencing labored-breathing, but there was a noticeable lack of lethargy.  I’m a victim of serious midday lulls, and when I added chia to my diet, my energy levels felt more consistent. 

Many have claimed it to revolutionize their fitness and increase their brain power, but like anything, it’s something you have to try and decide for yourself. 

If you’re interested in trying chia seed, visit the organic aisle of your local supermarket.  I found a bag for $5.99 at Cole’s.  Also, get a copy of Born to Run–it’s fascinating, even if you hate running.

The Fish Shack

As a newcomer to Canberra, it’s important I find not only a job, a place to live and perhaps even friends, but also a go-to place for fish and chips.

Back in Melbourne, I went to Sea Salt almost everyday, which serves arguably the best-quality, best-priced fish and chips in the city.  I can find no fault in Sea Salt, tucked away in the bustling, hip alley of DeGraves Street.  Between their filled-to-the-brim sushi, juicy fish burgers and quality fresh catch made to your liking, this place can do no wrong.  Their service is consistently friendly and unassuming, which is hard to find in the ever trendy and pretentious food realm of Melbourne.  Nothing will scare me away more from a restaurant than a jaded hipster who casts you aside with once glance and is burdened by taking your order, which is like, you know, their job, but whatever.

Enough spite.  I haven’t had any hipster encounters in Canberra (yet), and for that I am thankful.

My quest today was to find a Sea Salt replacement, which I didn’t expect to be easy.  After reading nothing but positive reviews on Urbanspoon, my hunt led me straight to the Fish Shack, located in the Petrie Plaza off Bunda Street.

The Fish Shack is hard to miss–just follow the delicious fish aroma wafting through Petrie Plaza and you’ll come across a cute orange hut, which stirred childlike excitement in me.  The design is inviting– even if I hadn’t done prior research I think the set-up alone would have been enough to entice me.

I got there right in time for the lunch rush, and man, it was busy.  The woman behind the counter kept saying, “We didn’t expect it to be so busy today,” in reply to customers who pointed out the obvious.  The staff tackled the non-stop orders with efficiency, keeping calm and friendly even though it didn’t look to die down anytime soon.

I decided beforehand to stick with good ol’ fashioned beer battered fish and chips, but I definitely wavered when I saw the menu.  The Fish Shack is aware of the growing gluten-free trend and provides options for the health-conscious, including steamed fish with lemongrass & ginger, which almost got me until I decided I was way too hungry to be healthy.  The menu stated their beer batter was superior to all because it was made fresh with Burleigh 28 Pale Ale, which I’ve never had, but it sounded good, so I went with my original instinct.  My meal came out to $10.50, a bit more than a Sea Salt outing, but still affordable if it lived up to the hype.

I waited a reasonable 12 minutes and was pleased to see my meal came equipped with lemon and dip (I shook things up and ordered roast garlic aioli over tartar).  It’s a fish and chips sin when an order comes out sans lemon or dip, and there’s surprisingly a lot of places that will exclude one or the other, sometimes both.

When my food was dropped off, I was confident by the appearance that it’d be nothing short of seafood bliss.  The fries (er, chips, excuse the future Americanisms) looked a bit dinky, but it’s all about the fish anyways.

I’m disappointed to say that this was one of those occasions where what you see is not what you get.

I could taste a hint of fish with mostly salt, but the beer batter didn’t make itself apparent to my taste buds whatsoever.  I should have went with the steamed option, because the beer batter wasn’t worth splurging on–I couldn’t detect any distinct flavor.  I finished the small portion of fish (it’s not as generous as it looks in the picture) within minutes and was left with a heap of chips, which were also forgettable.  I was still ravenous so I didn’t hesitate to finish the soft and lifeless McDonald’s-like chips.  Even the aioli dip was bland.  I suspect it was fat-free, which would offer an explanation, but I didn’t stick around to ask.

I’m willing to give the Fish Shack another shot.  It was busy and everyone else seems to rave about their food, so I’d be hasty to write it off just yet.

In the meantime, I’m keeping my eye out for other candidates to replace Sea Salt, whose best catch was its consistency.

 

The Burmese Curry Place

Alas,  I’ve on embarked on my Canberra food journey…

The first place I stumbled upon was the Burmese Curry Place, which was fortunate because I was craving something cheap, Asian, and of course, delicious.

I moved to town a few days ago and haven’t found a source of cash flow yet, so it’s a time to be stingy.  My objective is to dine-out cheaply until I get back on my feet, which hopefully will be soon because I’ve seen some tempting pricier venues.  I really shouldn’t be eating out at all, opting instead for canned food, bread and butter, but old habits die hard.

The Burmese Curry Place has a stark and spartan set-up—I would have missed it, but the colorful, straightforward restaurant sign pointed me in the right direction.  The dining area is void of décor and atmosphere, but it doesn’t matter because no one eats here to look around or feel comfortable–it’s all about the food. I was so engrossed with my meal that I forgot where I was.  Seriously, I didn’t look up from my plate once until I had scarfed down my meal, in time to notice I had dribbled some rice onto my shirt during the eating frenzy.

Before entering the restaurant, I’d recommend studying the menu and deciding exactly what you want before approaching the counter (Tip: tell the cashier the numbers you want, as in, “I’ll have 2 and 7.”  I ordered the actual food and this threw the woman off..oops) .  This jam-packed place isn’t for the indecisive–during lunch time there’s a queue, but it moves quickly, so be prepared–you’re entering a get-in-and-get-out environment.  The food is served cafeteria-style–it’s already been prepared, but don’t be put off by this–the turnover ensures that you’re meal will be fresh and piping hot.  You can choose two of the nine items over white rice, and I know the menu seems limited, but it’s still a hard choice.  I don’t know what I would have done had there been more options.

During my first visit (yeah, I came back the next day), I went for the fish curry and beef with potatoes.  I’m used to the spicy, coconut-milk based curries of Thailand, so I found the taste to be underwhelming at first, but I added some chilli in fish oil as well as brown chilli flakes, and this complimented the meal well.  The fish was white and moist; the beef tender and savory.  Sometimes I order chicken or beef at cheap Asian restaurants and honestly can’t identify it, half-suspecting that I’m eating someone’s family pet.  Here, quality ingredients are used despite feeding you for a low price ($8 dine-in, $7 take-away).  The portion is generous–enough to leave you full but not in a disgusting, roll-me-outta-here way.

When I came back the next day, I went with the sweet pork and chicken with potatoes.  Whatever flavor my first meal lacked, the sweet pork definitely compensated for.  The chicken and potatoes were nice ( a lot like the beef and potatoes, really) but the sweet pork stole the show.  The pork was juicy with just a bit of spice to accentuate its sweetness.  I want to try all the menu items, but it’s going to be hard steering away from the pork every visit. Had I known…

The Burmese Curry Place has charm in its simplicity and efficiency, and manages to offer something to most palates, so if you’re passing through City Walk, don’t be put off by what’s on the surface.  You’ll thank yourself (or me, perhaps) later.

Canberra pangs

I arrived to Canberra a few days ago, and while I’d like to see various museums, parks and monuments…I’ll be honest, finding the best places to eat is my biggest interest.

I’ve been in Melbourne the last few months, the Australian mecca for foodies and coffee snobs, and perhaps I’ve been a bit spoiled.  Melbourne offers an eclectic café culture and affordable, creative restaurants, which leave you feeling like you’ve died and gone to food heaven.

In short, Melbourne knows what’s up.  I hope Canberra does too.  I have a large appetite and a caffeine addiction which need to be satisfied.

I love writing, eating and coffee-drinking, and it’s finally occurred to me that I should combine these interests, giving way to yet another food blog.

I’m going to be consuming a lot in Canberra, and I invite you to join me!