Sometimes the only thing that will do when one is stressed is some coddling, charm and civility. So where does one turn but a 5 star hotel for lunch.The best part of dining in London is getting to try Michelin starred restaurants. Michelin doesn’t bother with Australia so whilst Tetsuya’s would be worthy of a Michelin star, he remains untouched with the fairy wand. So now is my chance to consume as many Michelin stars as possible. Housed in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel at Hyde Park London, never a shabby place to stay, Foliage has 1 Michelin star. This lunchtime Blythe and I are battling traffic congestion due to two tube lines being closed down and numerous roadworks near by. In fact we’re half an hour late for our booking and when we finally get there frantic and exhausted, we feel like we’ve really “earnt” our meal in effort.

We’re rewarded by broad smiles, soft welcomes and soothing tones. Foliage is a small room with enormous windows that offer a lovely view of Hyde Park, up close and personal. Guests are welcomed by not 3 but 4 courses. And for a price that’s an absolute steal in what can be a criminally expensive city £29. Yes you read right, £29 for lunch.

The menu has 4 choices which is generous and all of them call out in some way. We finally decide on some dishes after a little deliberation. We’re given bread, a choice of white, sourdough or walnut with salted and unsalted butter (walnut the clear winner, singing with walnut flavour through the copious amount of chunks).

Amuse Bouche: Chive Vichyssoise

We’re then bestowed with our Amuse Bouche, a Chive Vichyssoise. It’s creamy and smooth with a light mascarpone quenelle floating in the centre. A delicious start.

Starter: crab, mango, cucumber and coriander

Our starters then arrive, mine was the crab, mango, cucumber and coriander. The crab meat is delicate and sweet, the thing mango slices swirled on the plate with cucumber flavoured pasta and coriander sprigs. It all works beautifully together, never overwhelming the delicate crab. There are two delicious fried crab balls to give an alternate texture and taste.

Starter: Foie gras, beetroot, ginger bread and pecans

Blythe’s starter, a Foie gras, beetroot, ginger bread and pecans cleverly resembles rhubarb stalks. I do like Foie gras although sometimes I find it too strong. Not in this case, it’s beautifully balanced and beetroot goes wonderfully with the foie gras mousse. There is also a ball of foie gras rolled in pistachios which is also wonderful with the walnut bread which is thoughtfully topped up for us.

Intermediate: Scallops, squid ink, orzo, green almonds

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I had told a friend of mine, M, about Una’s at Double Bay and how their Schnitzels came with sauce. “PFfffttt!!” she said indignantly “Schnitzel should never come with sauce!!”. As a proud Austrian, she is highly opinionated on the foods from her native land. And I in turn, vowed never to serve her Austrian food, should I get in trouble for fiddling with it.

We walk into The Austrian Club this cold, Wintry night, our stomachs happily anticipating a large meal full of meat and potatoes and various other ingredients that make up Austrian cuisine. The Austrian Club is situated in Frenchs Forest, close to other National clubs such as the Czech club and the Danish Club. Of course we are going here with M and her monkey-toting son I. After 15 years in Australia, this is her first time to the club. On the outside she says that it is much like a typical Austrian building, white with brown trim and a fire bell at the top. And the sign outside proudly sports Gösser beer, the popular Austrian Beer. So far so good.

Inside, it looks quaint and is comfortable like a hall with checked tablecloth covered tables and we are reassured by M, that it looks just like back home. She point out the various details, from the curtains to the wall plaques and the signs that would separate foreigners from natives.

Stammtisch-VIPs only!

For example there is the “Stammtisch” sign above a table which reserves that tables for the elders or regulars. An Austrian would never sit at that table unless they were one and each club would have one of these tables put aside for their special patrons. The fixtures above the lights she says are based on the equipment that they use on the oxen that plough the fields in Austria.

Hoof hook

Food orders are taken at the table by the wait staff and drinks are ordered a the nearby bar. And it’s cash only for both (which threw us a little and had us hurriedly counting cash in wallets and nominating people to wash dishes).

Almdudler

We order with the advice from M as to what is typically Austrian and then she comes back from the bar with cans of Almdudler, a popular Austrian soft drink flavoured lightly with herbs (much like a Chi drink). The red can features an Alpine looking couple and it’s said to be their National drink, second only to Coca Cola in sales, although it doesn’t contain caffeine and the taste is light and refreshing.

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Like an abused pet that is shown signs of kindness, I approached macaron making again with a little nervousness and trepidation. I’d had a semi successful attempt with a Nigella recipe after a few terrible attempts with a Martha one so I was given a little encouragement. Not enough to make me cocky, far from it in fact. But enough to make me give the recipes a shy, sidelong look every now and again and even think to myself “that would be wonderful in a macaron” (although I’d never say that out loud, that would err on the cocky side, or at least confident side, which I am not on).

I even stocked up on supplies to make them, purchasing a 1kg bag of almond meal. This meant that I was either thinking of making multiple batches of macarons or making friands. As I don’t have a friand tin, all evidence points to the former. So urban-cavewoman style, I brought home my big bag of almond meal like a fresh kill and set it down on the counter proudly, like I had picked the almonds and ground them myself.

This is a fiddly cupcake, I’ll make no bones about it. You need to make the macaron to top it and then make the cupcake base and the rose cream and slice up berries and lychees to fill it and top with a rose petal. But the overall effect is quite spectacular. I made the macaron top first as I knew that if I wasn’t successful at that, then I wouldn’t bother making the rest. You see, I’m still slightly scarred by my failed attempts. I also chose this cupcake recipe as it sometimes gives a macaron crust on the top of the cupcake, I say sometimes, when I make this as sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. Cakelaw found that she got the macaron crust on top here but I didn’t get it for this particular lot of cupcakes. Must be something to do with science…

I suspect that Pierre Herme, the creator of the Ispahan would be quite horrified at the idea of his lauded creation being turned into something as cute and kitsch as a cupcake, indeed I saw not a single cupcake in all of my travels in Paris. However it’s not exactly like an Ispahan in that the base is a strawberry rose cupcake and the filling is buttercream and not a buttercream and custard creme anglaise combination (I only have so much patience). Also being Mid Winter in Sydney meant that only strawberries and some blueberries make an appearance so I had to improvise and use strawberries rather than raspberries.

I hope you will find these a fitting homage to the Ispahan, the taste of these are ambrosial and well worth the effort.

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