Posts Tagged ‘south american’

It was my birthday recently. Happy birthday to me, right! Yay! I know many people get quite coy about having birthdays and let them slide sneakily by while saying airily two weeks later, “Oh, yes, my birthday was ages ago,” but we all know I am terribly childish and have been talking as excitedly about it as a five-year-old. I made a short list of demands of Teach: new cushions (check) and dinner at Smith & Daughters (check). I also got a plethora of other lovely things, but as I am not actually five, I’ll spare you the excited commentary.

We got my folks to look after the Rocket so we could dine properly here, as it’s more a fine food restaurant than the usual Lord of the Fries/Guzman y Gomez type food we’re always stuffing ourselves with on weekends. The poor little spaceship was sick – she’s coughing in bed and wailing afterwards even as I type, breaking my heart completely – but my mother is very good, as mothers can be, at issuing a hug and an icy pole to soothe a sore throat (she would also say honey and lemon on a teaspoon but we didn’t have either.)

And OH. My friends. Smith & Daughters delivered. It’s been open for months and I’ve been desperately trying to get us there the entire time, but have failed to get us babysitting that doesn’t end in us seeing a movie like Godzilla (it’s no Pacific Rim) or Spider-man 2 (it’s no Spider-man 1) or Maleficent (it’s no Sleeping Beauty, thankfully). Anyway, here we were, and I was all flappy with excitement, and the people were immediately lovely. The seats are a touch crowded – we were elbow-knocking distance from the first-date couple beside us – but as more people came along it became fun and rowdy and no one cared any more. The couple beside us were exclaiming over the menu using words like “meatballs” and “chorizo” and clarified with the friendly waitress that everything was vegan, which, yes, it was (I was going to tell them so but no one needs a know-it-all to butt in on your date, even if it is her birthday weekend), and I wanted everything on the menu, especially all those things with corn chips. Eventually we ordered tacos (I had jackfruit, Teach ordered the spicy chorizo), the tuna, cheese and pea croquettes as per all of my friends’ instructions, the patatas bravas (potato and chorizo), and the uh I forget but they compared it to a Cuban shepherds pie. Then I gotan $18 hot buttered rum because did I mention it was my birthday?

Sadly I forgot to take any pictures but I am going to very liberally steal some from Where’s the Beef, absolute five-star food bloggers who are overseas at the moment which hopefully means they won’t remember to come after me with a pointy stick once they return. This was the potato! The chorizo was not sausage-like in slices like we thought it would be, but it was lovely all the same, and spicy just like they said.

First, though, the tacos came out, as swift as anything, and my jackfruit taco was the bomb. We traded bites and both declared our own choices the best, because in love everything is a competition, right? Yes. The croquettes flew over shortly afterwards and were just divine. Cheesy! Crumby! Not-really-tuna-y-but-that’s-okay, and the sauce was gorgeous and creamy. I don’t even like crumbed things. All crumbed things are horrible – all but this. This was amazing. The cheesiness, dear readers! No wonder our table neighbours were suspicious. These people are magic kitchen elves.

There was a slight delay between that and our next courses but our lovely-lovely waitress stopped by to make sure we were okay and let us know food was coming, and I was relaxed and happy in the tummy due to the first things being so great, and getting very warm in the brain from my hot buttered rum (first sip: this tastes strange and was a bad idea; last sip: this is incredible and I will order fifteen more). Their playlist was right the hell up my alley with surf rock all night, the decor is stones and signs and giant candle monsters and playful salt-and-pepper shakers and moody lighting, and we progressively became happier and one with the world. Then the patatas and pie arrived; the patatas were good because they were potatoes and seriously who can’t love potatoes, and the pie was quite good, with this cornbread-type crust that I was all over because back when the S&D owners were running South in the People’s Market their cornbread was heaven on earth. This was Teach’s choice, and it had a mushroom filling, which I liked a bit despite the fact I hate mushrooms, though probably wouldn’t get again, because I hate mushrooms. If Teach got it again (which he was already saying he would when we left), I would totally steal a quarter of it again anyway because the flavours were grand.

Sorry Cindy and Michael sorry sorry I stole this one too but the tart was SO GOOD lookit that ice cream

By the end of that we were far too full to ever eat anything again, so we ordered dessert: I got the salted caramel tart with avocado ice cream and Teach picked the quince-filled donuts because we’d been thinking of going down the road to Big Lou’s and getting some hot jam donuts afterwards. I had my doubts about avocado ice cream because I’m not very inventive and it sounds completely terrible, but when it came and I tried it with that eyebrows-raised British-stiff-upper-lip face that you do when trying new food, it was, hands-down, the most unexpectedly excellent thing I have tried in a long time, and I ate all of it with the tart (well, the half of the tart I could salvage from Teach’s grubby paws) and it was a very good moment in my culinary life. I could only fit one of Teach’s donuts in my belly, but the quince filling was actually a really subtle and beautiful flavour and the donuts were excellently fluffy and sugary, and I could fit two more in my handbag in a serviette so that worked out well.

It was an amazing, perfect, superlative dinner out. Teach and I are usually order, smash-food, pay and run-type diners, clearing a fancy dinner in twenty minutes like it’s a competition (because life is a competition, yes?), but we lazed happily around our meal for an hour and a half. It felt like a proper birthday dinner, with the wait staff and owners as perky and kind as friends. A++ would eat again.

As far as kid-stuff goes, because well this is supposed to be a parenting blog and all, apparently they do have high chairs, and while it’s date-friendly it’s also light and fun enough to accommodate children, especially with the speedy table service. I’d bring the Rocket for sure – but probably for a weekend brunch as the evenings might be too boisterous for her – and not order booze to keep the price a bit more reasonable. I think she’d love the croquettes, and I think she’d love my good mood about it.

And thus ends my 1200-word essay about my birthday, thank you very much.


Smith & Daughters

175 Brunswick St


9939 3293 (but book online)


No steps to the door, and I didn’t use the toilets.


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