Business

Edendum

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Image: Edendum

Italian: the nation’s favourite cuisine, second only to the mighty curry. We’ve come to see it as safe, easy food; a collection of familiar, reliable dishes that can be knocked together in no time at all. It’s the “job done” meal that ticks everyone’s boxes, and it remains the average Brit’s dinner party go-to. But do we really know Italian cuisine? Are the dishes we order (often without so much as glancing at the menu, never mind the specials board) giving us the true flavour of Italy? The answer is, clearly, no.

I promise you, I cast no judgement over the types of Italian restaurants that the average town in England relies heavily on for its pasta and pizza needs (trust me, I’m as fond of a 2-4-1 steal as the next person). But if you’re someone who also seeks more than mass-produced lasagne and bland carbonara of a Friday night, then a dinner date within the welcoming walls of Edendum will be time (and money) well spent. Loosen your belts, dear reader, because it’s time to get under the skin of “the good old Italian”, one delightfully authentic course at a time.

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

I can’t help but love Edendum from the moment I step inside; it exudes a kind of shrug your-coat-off-and-relax warmth. Alluring deli produce lines the shelves, begging closer inspection, and the restaurant’s core beliefs and practices are stencilled across the walls. Any restaurateur who claims to transport a slice of real Italy straight to the mouths of Brighton gets my attention immediately, and upon talking to Diego (one half of the founding duo) it’s clear the word “authentic” isn’t bandied around without substantial backing. He and Lorenza are here to feed not only our hunger but our understanding of genuine Italian cuisine, and with a recently revamped menu this education may require a few visits.

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

Starter

There’s only one occasion when I can tolerate the texture of velvet, and that’s when it presents as the smoothest, creamiest goats’ cheese. This heavenly cheese is the first component to get my approval on the gnocco misto fritto sharing platter, melting and expanding on my tongue. The kitchen is kind enough to separate the meats from the cheeses, so my companion and I enjoy a split-down-the-middle version of this house speciality. Accompanying the goat are: a pungent gorgonzola, a subtle brie, a nutty fontina and a burrata so oozy I need a spoon. Crispy-yet-soft doughballs soak up this dairy-heavy dish, while cerignola olives, cherry tomatoes and spiced homemade chutneys provide an essential acidity which cuts through the richness of the cheese.  

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

Over on the meat side of the table there are comments along the lines of “This is the best prosciutto I’ve ever eaten. In my life. Ever” which I interpret to mean that if I wasn’t a pescetarian I still wouldn’t get a look in. The generous meat board also offers servings of coppa, cooked ham, spicy smoked spianata salami and wafer-thin mortadella.

Almost too pretty to eat, the gamberoni and Roma broccoli heads dance on their slate backdrop amongst swirls of saffron mayonnaise and edible flowers. Since I relish any opportunity to get my hands messy when eating, I don’t mind the shell-on presentation of these marinated king prawns; the delicate flavours underneath are well-complemented by a glass of Soave Classico.   

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

Main

We continue at a slow pace, and my companion switches to a glass of the Sangiovese Bigi to accompany the filetto di maiale con fichi. His first bite confirms how perfectly tender the pork fillet is, and I leave him to explore the parsnip purée and fig reduction while I gush over fact that someone in Brighton has finally nailed polenta mash. 

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

The smooth and salty base of my polenta e branzino is so addictive that it’s a shamefully long time before I pay the crispy-skinned sea bass any real attention. The delicate morsels of fish are tender, flavoursome and surrounded by capers and anchovies. While the scattered sun-dried tomatoes provide a sweet balance, some might feel this dish dances on the wrong side of salty, but I maintain that it comes down to personal preference. Just ensure the friendly and efficient waiter keeps your glass topped up with a crisp, dry white.

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

Dessert

The dessert options are presented, and a certain crème brulée con sorbetto al frutto della passione winks at me, just as it did at 10.42am when I first drooled over the brief but comprehensive list of dolci. At this stage, I’m so full I’m beginning to resemble a ball of gnocchi, but I place my order regardless, because anything with a name so beautifully lyrical is worth a little discomfort.  

It transpires that the crème brulée has not yet properly set, and I’m told it would upset the chef if I tasted anything less than perfection. Inwardly I bow down in respect. Edendum’s founders believe that the success of a dish depends just as much on the person cooking it as the quality of ingredients, and with this one swift assertion from the kitchen it becomes clear just how much heart and soul they’ve invested into pulling together their wonderful Edendum family.

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Image: Barefoot Rosie

We share the cannolo sicialano instead, but in truth we’re too full to appreciate it. Limoncello shots follow, and we roll out of the restaurant with a jar of the crema di carciofi e aglio from the deli as a souvenir of a delicious evening. That’s artichoke and garlic spread to the rest of us, and it’s bloody exquisite.   

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Image: Edendum

Verdict

Edendum is the place to take your in-laws, because the menu will impress them so much that you won’t need to. It’s the place to treat your new beau, because the cosy ambience will show that you know how to make a person feel special. It’s the place to host a business associate, because the waiting staff will meet your every need without bothering you unnecessarily. It’s the place to be when what you really want is a holiday in Tuscany but you’re a little bit skint. It’s the place to drop in when you need authentic Italian ingredients for your supper club and don’t want to support a chain deli. It’s even the place to dine alone; somewhere you can sit solo, and enjoy a sharing platter for two without anyone casting a judgemental glance your way.  

It’s also a place to return to, for the burrata with green pea purée, for the good value Pre-Theatre menu and, of course, for that crème brulée. See you again Edendum. Grazie di tutto.

 

 

Habitat Restaurant & Bar

Food review of Habitat Restaurant & Bar, Brisbane, Australia (first published on brisbane.concreteplayground.com.au)

If the definition of its name is anything to go by, you would expect Habitat to present itself as an environment in which you can feel naturally at home; a welcoming locale, day or night. Happily, this West End restaurant and bar successfully lives up to that expectation, providing a trendy yet unpretentious setting for post-work drinks, as well as a life-saving breakfast menu full of inventive hangover cures, should they be required the morning after. With a lunch and dinner menu equally as strong – featuring locally sourced, organic produce and ample portion sizes – Habitat proves itself to be as versatile as it is conveniently placed.

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Ask the staff for the best brunch recommendation and you’re sure to be advised that nothing beats the Vegemite and cheddar loaf, served with smoked bacon, free range poached eggs, rocket and macerated tomatoes ($13.50).  Sadly for pescetarians, it’s not possible to substitute the smoked leg ham for smoked salmon on an order of eggs benedict, but you can get a vitamin-rich alternative to meat by requesting a serving of beautifully ripe avocado instead.  Not a lover of the mighty poached egg?  Fear not: the menu creatively deviates away from the more predictable breakfast offerings with flavoursome dishes such as twice baked pumpkin and honey soufflé garnished with rocket, parmesan and feta ($14.00), or the aromatic white bean cassoulet served with ciabatta and lemon caper crème fraîche ($14.50).

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There’s an air of rugged masculinity to the spacious interior; throughout its visually balanced design it combines sleek, industrial-chic with rustic textures and moody grey tones.  A long, narrow mezzanine level separates diners from the main bar area, and gets you a little closer to the street espresso bar (which, incidentally, serves a thoroughly decent latté, complete with the customary froth-art).  It’s this confident design amalgamation, teamed with laid-back beats and a solid selection of craft beers and signature cocktails, which creates the buzz and draws the evening crowds. It’s worth noting, however, that whilst this laid-back local continues to gain popularity with Westies and visitors alike, aim to arrive by 10pm to avoid the disappointment of missing last orders from the bar.

Rating: 7/10

Style: Modern Australian

Ideal dish: Twice baked pumpkin and honey soufflé

Price Range: 3/5

Outdoor Seating: Yes

Good For Groups: Yes

Delivery: No

Wheelchair Access: Yes

Takes Reservations: Yes

 

Deluxe in Lux

It’s a pleasing moment when a journalist receives an invitation to eat something delicious, sleep somewhere beautiful or participate in something fun (often we are chained to writing articles of our editor’s choosing) because it provides us with a blank page on which to run with any narrative theme.  For me, on this occasion, the theme is LUXURY; pure, indulgent, gratifying luxury.

As a shoe-string-backpacker at heart, the prospect of some occasional luxury remains a delightful treat.  When travelling, I’m more likely to be heard asking “Would it be possible to get some sheets on this bed?” than “Are these sheets 100-count Egyptian cotton?” but make no mistake: I know 5 Star.  I have stayed in some of the best hotels around the world, received some of the best service and gorged myself on the best pillow mints in existence, so when I give somewhere the thumbs up, I do not do so lightly.

The fairytale town of Clervaux, Luxembourg

I was pondering the concept of luxury as the chauffeur-driven car (a shiny black Jaguar, to be accurate) wound its way through dense forest, circling the basin in which lies the picturesque town of Clervaux, Luxembourg, where I was about to spend two nights reviewing the boutique and design hotel, Le Clervaux. Through small gaps in the trees I caught frequent glimpses of steeples and spires, of turrets and 12th Century architectural detail; the town appeared to be the setting of a medieval fairytale.  It also appeared to be a well-kept secret, quietly nestled into a beautiful valley, typical of the Ardennes region, and I wondered how long it would remain so undiscovered.

A hidden gem

Arriving at the hotel stirred a mixture of awe and childlike excitement within me.  The design was instantly striking; both sensitive to the building’s history and in keeping with modern aesthetics.  Architecturally, the façades of the conjoined buildings demonstrated perfect union between old and new, and woven into the strong interior design was a dynamic fusion of masculine and feminine.

Interiors by JOI-Design

Moody greys and sultry blacks were accented by blocks of bold, fiery red.  Here, a touch of elegance in the wallpaper print; there, robust angles and clean lines.  The design spoke of glamour, of European chic and of smoldering beauty, with a distinct fashionista edge.  It was the most remarkable hotel interior I’d seen.

Interiors by JOI-Design

Best described as deluxe, my suite was no less impressive, with picture-perfect views of the castle.  The attention to detail within the design and layout was notable, and the amenities were superb.  It seems the thrill of the miniature kettle is a thing of travel past; Le Clervaux has raised the bar with individual Nespresso coffee machines.  Inside the undeniably sexy en-suite, an assortment of divine-smelling Fairtrade toiletries prompted me to let out an involuntary squeal, which echoed against the high ceiling and sounded at odds with the peaceful silence of my surroundings.

Interiors by JOI-Design

Interiors by JOI-Design

Despite the enormous bed luring me into the embrace of an afternoon nap, the wellness centre was calling me louder.  With a comprehensive spa menu and therapists of the highest quality, it was clear these facilities were one of Le Clervaux’s key assets.  I experienced head-to-toe treatments: a whole-body sea salt scrub (which left me with cashmere-soft skin), a deep cleansing facial and all manner of massage techniques. Forget Hot Stone Massage; at Le Clervaux it’s all about the Hot Ball – a heated balloon which is rolled at just the right pressure over your body, accessing every inch to loosen the muscles and lull you into a helpless state of relaxation.  As someone with sensitive skin and a strong environmental conscience, it is also crucial that I mention the wellness centre’s important choice of beauty products: Thalgo.  Created from naturally occurring minerals and nutrients found in the sea, these marine-based beauty products left neither a blemish on my skin, nor unnecessary impact on the environment, thanks to the brand’s core commitment to minimising its ecological footprint.

New levels of luxurious relaxation

Outside of the treatment rooms, there was an abundance of facilities to profit from – mood-enhancing, colour-changing lights in the pool, a decent sized jacuzzi and a relaxation room of ample comfort – but it was the hot zone I found the most enthralling, with its dark, enigmatic design and unusual variations on the classic sauna and steam experience.  Acutely aware of European spa protocol (namely the insistence of complete nudity) I let go of my inhibitions and de-robed into my own unashamed nakedness.  Admittedly, it did enhance the experience somewhat, allowing the skin to fully benefit from the steam, salt vapour and other glow-inducing atmospheric conditions.  But a friendly warning: if you’re averse to witnessing the unclothed form of the opposite sex in close proximity, some prior mental preparation is in order.

Post-pampering, it felt a shame to spoil my newly cleansed skin with unnecessary cosmetics, so I was relieved to note at dinner that whilst the hotel itself oozed glamour, there was no pressure on its guests to follow suit.  As a pescetarian, the hotel’s most prestigious restaurant Rhino’s Steakhouse was sadly wasted on me, however I can highly commend them on their extraordinarily generous crayfish salad and wood-fired pizzas, and with regards to the meat, let me say this: as someone who once was a carnivore, the steak menu was something to behold.  Meat lovers, eat your heart out because the choice of quality cuts, sauces and sides is extensive.  The hotel’s other restaurant Da Lonati served me the most tender, flavour-rich melanzane parmagiana of my life – which is saying something given how many times I’ve eaten this dish in Italy.  If you can resist the temptation of sinking into the world’s most comfortable bed for just a little longer, it’s worth pausing in the Cabana Lounge for a nightcap.

A wonderful welcome at bedtime…

In my humble opinion, the mark of excellence at any hotel is the standard of the breakfast – I’m looking for quality, creativity, variation and abundance – so I was delighted to discover Le Clervaux excelled on every point.  Each morning I was greeted with “Voulez-vous du Champagne?” (note: never in life is the answer to that question anything but “Oui, merci”) and a mouth-watering buffet so broad I deemed it necessary to wear stretchy pants to allow for my inevitable over-indulgence.  It was a breakfast-lover’s paradise; farm-fresh, locally-sourced, hot from the oven, freshly-squeezed, decadent, vitamin-rich and always beautifully presented.

How could I resist?

It intrigued me as to who would visit this wonderful little gem, so discreetly tucked away in the Luxembourgish forest, but as the Marketing & Communications Manager, Nicole, explained during a tour of the facilities, the town of Clervaux is situated amongst some of Europe’s best rural hiking routes, and is especially blessed in historical buildings and landmarks.  It is also a town of unique character (exhibit A: the mayor recently “handed over the keys” to the town and red carpets were laid along the small streets surrounding the hotel, upon which were held a delightful little festival for all to enjoy).  Add to that the superb business and conference facilities of the hotel itself and the aforementioned spa heaven and you’ll start to understand, as I did, why this well-kept secret is quickly gaining recognition as a travel destination.

The Family of Man photographic exhibition at Clervaux Castle

Go for business, go for golf, go for the cuisine and the fine wines, go for history, go for hiking, go for your physical wellbeing, or simply go for your sanity – because at Le Clervaux the stresses of your daily life will simply melt away, and in my experience that’s the greatest luxury of all.

The best views in town

I departed the charming streets of Clervaux the same way I had arrived – in that shiny black Jaguar – sad to leave behind the romanticism of the Rapunzel-esque town, but sure of one thing: if you are somebody well accustomed to luxury of the highest order, Le Clervaux will more than meet your expectations, and if you are somebody for whom luxury is a rare treat, it will simply blow your mind.

Visit www.le-clervaux.com to book your own blissful break

 

The Root of All Evil

When I travel in developing countries I’m reminded of the pitiful state of the global economy, and of our sad attitudes surrounding money.  We live in a world of financial abundance – there is enough for all humanity if only we learned to resist greed – yet somehow man has created dramatic inequality.  The monetary system is such that whilst the elite minority thrive on their riches, millions of others languish in life-threatening poverty.  We have all the tools to fix the problems of the world’s poorest countries but we, the rich countries, choose to keep them in debt, eternally dependant on us.

On the global wealth scale, Indonesia does not rank high.  Within minutes of your plane landing or your boat docking you will see financial scarcity in evidence all around.  I’m not talking about “poverty” we see in the West which somehow still allows for the purchase of expensive electronics, designer trainers and cigarettes.  I’m referring to an extreme level of destitution, where malnutrition is commonplace and starvation is a threat.  Millions of Indonesians, of all ages, work long hours in physically demanding, dirty or undesirable jobs for little remuneration, simply to survive.

Anyone with an ounce of compassion would recoil at the sobering statistics of third world hunger and disease, yet it’s often wrongly assumed that one person alone cannot help the gravity of the situation.  One of the many reasons I travel in Asia is to spread my relative wealth amongst poorer communities; perhaps on a subconscious level it eases my guilt over being born to more fortunate circumstances, but primarily it is because I believe with great conviction that whilst governments continue doing little to help the world’s poorest nations, we should each do what we can.

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And yes, from my perspective we are talking about very little money.  Think about thirty pence or the equivalent in your currency: what can that buy you in the western world?  In England it won’t even buy chewing gum, but in Asia it equals lunch from a street cart or half a tank of petrol for a moped.  Add an extra thirty pence to your accommodation budget and you get a swimming pool.  Leaving my pocket that amount is unnoticeable but, for the Indonesian whose pocket it lands in, thirty pence can mean the difference between a full belly and an empty one.

A recent encounter in Bali reaffirmed my belief that individuals can make a difference.  At the end of a hot day exploring rice paddies and villages we passed a roadside display of colourful hammocks.  Buying a double hammock had been high on our agenda, although we had not yet agreed our budget or considered whether we had space within our backpacks.  The hammocks were perfect – recycled from vibrant parachute silk, thus also ticking the eco box – but our tiredness, hunger and thirst felt more of a priority at that particular time and we began to walk away.  So what turned us on our heels?  Compassion and guilt; the shopkeeper begged us for the sale.  She clasped her hands together, and she simply pleaded.  She expressed her own tiredness, hunger and thirst, and it put ours to shame.  Her face conveyed years of struggle.  She did not need to labour the point about feeding her many children, because when we looked into her eyes we saw genuine fear.  How many family members relied on that sale for food, health, education?  In that moment, our deliberation ceased and the hammock was sold.  The relief that rushed through her was visible, and a lump formed in my throat as she hurriedly wrapped our purchase, including extra rope to show her gratitude.

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DSCF2445Lying in that parachute silk I always think of that woman and it comforts me that, if only for one day, we made a difference in her world.

Of course, not all of our monetary exchanges were as heart-warming.  We frequently got ripped off by Rupiah-hungry locals using underhand tactics to scrounge profit, and I admit some situations bothered me.  I have noticed that in Asian countries capitalist values are taken to extremes and, sadly, somewhere in the rat-race to wealth the original value and meaning of life, of honesty and connection to other human beings is getting lost.  Poverty is debilitating and stifles the progression of developing nations, but it’s a shame when lives become utterly consumed by the constant drive to increase material wealth.

Yet it’s worth remembering that it is the Western world that has bred this commercial ideology of aspiring to greater wealth.  If we ourselves demonstrate that “more” is never “enough”, how can we feign surprise when greed, dishonesty and ruthlessness become commonplace in poorer countries which are simply trying to better themselves financially, just as we have done?  If a Hollywood sit-com actor can demand six-figure-sums per episode, what example does that set to the rest of the world?  What if, instead of indulging our selfish appetites in a continual quest for more money than we could possibly know what to do with, we found a happy medium where nobody had too little, nobody had too much?

One afternoon in the Gili Islands, sitting on a cushioned bamboo beruga, we watched as a local man knelt down on a board and paddled out to sea with his fishing rod, where he remained for some time, patiently awaiting his catch.  Seeing this, we recalled a story which epitomises the message the West sends the rest of the world about money.  In the interests of my word-count I’ll condense this tale, but you’ll get the idea:

A wealthy American businessman meets a fisherman in a small Mexican fishing village.  The businessman learns that the fisherman leads a simple life, catching only enough tuna to feed his family, and spending his spare time laughing with his children, playing the guitar and drinking wine with friends.  The businessman scoffs: “Why don’t you spend longer fishing, sell your catch and with the revenue buy several boats.  As your business grows you could open a cannery, and eventually a global enterprise.  You could move to New York City and sell your company shares on the stock market.  In 15 years you could become a rich man!  Then you could retire and move to a small Mexican fishing village where you would spend your days fishing, laughing with your children, playing the guitar and drinking wine with your friends”.  The fisherman simply smiles and asks, “Isn’t that what I’m already doing?”

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I’m certain most financiers would recoil at my suggestion that we – the rich West – do more to help struggling nations free themselves from deprivation, and whilst I don’t claim to have the answers to the world’s economic problems, I do believe this: as inhabitants of this extraordinary planet we have a responsibility towards each other.  If we are to see any improvement to poverty, we must first see a change in attitudes.  What if the current emphasis on personal wealth gave way to the importance of sharing?  What if the message we teach our children became this: “It’s not about what you own; it’s about who you are”.  What could that wealthy businessman learn from the poor fisherman about life’s true riches?

As a wise man in my life recently said, “I would pay any amount of money to see the monetary system fall” but until then I’ll continue to turn my Sterling into Rupiah, Ringgit and Rufiyaa in the knowledge that individually I can make a difference, however small.