Extreme Food Dating: Lava Stonegrill
A mere few blocks away from my old home in Mount Lawley there exists a restaurant where they bring you a stack of raw meat and a rock that was supposedly thrown out of an erupting volcano. This rock is heated to an insane temperature - hot enough to make your face sweat the entire meal - and delivered to you at your fancy white linen covered table so that you might cook your food upon it. Reservations are a must.
I had been curious about this place - the Lava Stonegrill - for a while. But it wasn’t quite quirky enough for Extreme Food Dating. It just sounded like a variation on Korean BBQ. Then, a friend of mine took some girl from the internet on a date there and liked it (and the date worked out well…). He reported back that they had along with the beef and chicken stacks of raw meat, they also had a game platter, featuring crocodile fillet, venison steak (although, I feel I must tell you that they promised me “venison” on the menu), wild boar and kangaroo steak, all served with a bush tomato chutney. Sold!
For extra bonus fun points (but not intentionally), the date was scheduled to occur during a brief period when I was on a some rather innocuous medication that, despite its supposed innocuous nature, had the side effect of messing with my head (if you have ever tried old school anti-malarials, it was something like that, but more of the daytime weirdness and less of the sleeping weirdness).
So, the date started out well (at least it seemed so to my foggy brain). We arrived at the grill - it was packed and swanky and somehow fully stocked with hot gay waiters. Despite their hotness, these waiters kinda sucked at waiting in a timely fashion.
I mean really, how long does it take to prepare food that I cook myself?
This is something I’ve noticed that is annoyingly common with Perth cafes and restaurants. Even with no one else in the cafe, it often takes them a good 5 minutes to take the cookie out of a jar, put it in a bag and charge me for it. One time I waited 15 min just to get a pre-made sandwich warmed up.
As advertised, the plate of uncooked meat and a sizzling lava rock came with the tomato chutney, and some other delicious yet unidentified dip type thing. The waiter hurriedly told me what each piece of meat was, and then scurried away, and I immediately forgot what everything was, except for the one that looked like chicken (the rest were all red meat) - that one was crocodile. When I finally hailed the water down again to ask which meat was what, he claimed they had been reorganized and couldn’t tell me. So, my dear readers, I cannot give you much of a review of each meat, other than the crocodile tasted like chicken. Surprise.
This was $34. I had to order the steamed vegetables on the side - another $7.90. Some readers might remember the kilo of steak and kilo of chips I had at Outback Jack’s, all of which were a mere $36.
When I was done the cooking, I wanted the hot rock to go away because they made me feel like I was going through menopause. I’m not sure if this was from my crazy drugs or the heat of the sizzling plate before me. But either way, you can imagine its not so pleasant to have a sizzling hot rock cooking your face while you’re trying to enjoy your dinner.
All and all, overpriced and underserved. Also, more craziness next time please.
Update: Smart Energy Blood Orange & Chilli not recalled
I was kinda excited when someone named Amelia reported in the comments that a Coles employee told her that the Smart Energy Blood Orange & Chilli had been recalled. This was all I needed to prove that those skinny little cans were filled with chilli flavoured danger and insanity. So, I emailed Spring Valley to ask what was up, and after about a week they replied:
Dear Ms Raynes-Goldie
Thank you for taking the time to contact us regarding our Spring Valley
Blood Orange and Chilli Smart Energy Drink.Please rest assured that we have no concerns with this product. It is
supplied to smaller retailers only such as Petrol stations and Convenience
stores.Once again thank you for taking the time to contact us and we trust this
has been of assistance to you.Kind regards
CADBURY SCHWEPPES PTY LTD
I was kinda relieved since I accidently bought a can the other day, thinking it was the Blueberry flavour. And not being one to waste food, I drank it with some spicy pizza, whilst fearing for my life. Now I’m glad it was safe, but, it still tasted mega-ick.
Kit Kat Tourism: Cookie Dough
Special guest blog by celebrity time traveling food blogger / jazz pianist extraordinaire David Fono
In the year 2008…
The world has only one chance
And only one Kit Kat
KIT KAT COOKIE DOUGH:
Cookie Dough & Caramel Layer over Crunchy Wafer Finger covered in Smooth Milk Chocolate
When Kate asked me if I wanted to a review a new Kit Kat flavour, I was initially suspicious. I know that Kate is quite fond of her esoteric Kit Kats, particularly when they’re in limited supply. Plus, having followed her long, tortuous journey through the warped world of Nestle’s imagination, I’ve long been suspicious of an eventual decline into the “regrettable” range of flavours: Decaying Flesh, Childhood Trauma, Poison. Fortunately, it just turns out we’re dealing with Cookie Dough here.
Unfortunately, things went a little awry before I had a chance to dig in. You see, the “first” half of the bar was purloined by Kate before I could sink my teeth into it. You know the half I’m talking about: the half with the initial bite, the bite that is pure chocolate. The bite that cleanses the palette, sets the chocolaty baseline in advance of the complex flavours to follow. Without this half, a meaningful reading of the complete experience is difficult to fathom. For all I know, half of the Cookie Dough chocolate bar could be covered in moss, or filled with rotten teeth. Maybe that sort of thing is big in Asia. You’ll have to ask Kate. In the meantime, all I can do is my best.
My initial impressions went something like this: There’s not much going on here. This is certainly one of the more conservative Kit Kat offerings; it’s quite a ways from the explicit, unabashed flavour of Mint or Strawberry. That doesn’t make it bad, mind you. When you think about it, Cookie Dough flavour is perhaps the logical zenith of the core Kit Kat trajectory; the Kit Kat, after all, is largely a cookie. So if you add more cookie-ness, are you really doing something new? Or are you just lifting the traditional offering to a new level? As a fan of the fundamental Kit Kat prototype, I’m not against this way of doing things. I’m enjoying this Cookie Dough Kit Kat — it feels like coming home to an old friend, who has just purchased a slightly larger house with a pool. It’s nice to hang out with my friend, but it’s even better when we have a pool.
However, upon passing the first draft of this review to my editor (Kate), she stormed over to my desk and demanded to know what kind of hack food journalist considers caramel and cookie dough uninteresting. I informed her that all Kit Kats had caramel, and she reminded me that I’m used to eating Kit Kat Caramels. It turns out she was right; and this is an important distinction. The Kit Kat Caramel represents a significant improvement over the basic Kit Kat model — in fact, may represent a local peak in candy bar evolution. To say that the Cookie Dough Kit Kat, then, is a minor improvement on the Caramel, is to say that it is a minor improvement on near-perfection.
There is, of course, the creaminess to speak of. The “cookie dough” in question here isn’t so much dough, as a dubious paste. To some, this may be off-putting. However, if you’re any sort of Kit Kat aficionado, you’re probably used to these sorts of shenanigans. The idea isn’t to focus on the individual textures, but on the gestalt; and the creaminess is, for the most part, lost in the familiar crunch of wafer and chocolate. You can tell it’s there, but it doesn’t interfere. It’s nice, but not *too* nice, like a creepy uncle.
As you can probably tell, I would recommend this chocolate bar. It’s nothing revolutionary. But if you want something revolutionary, why are you eating a Kit Kat? Kit Kats are about minor but solid variations on a consistent, underlying theme. In this respect, the Cookie Dough Kit Kat succeeds marvelously. I give it 8.5 Kits out of a possible Kat.
Weird Drinks: Cucumber Drink
Look! Cucumber flavoured drink (or green pumpkin, according to the ingredients list, the only thing in English). Awesome! I thought this was another exciting gem like the Basil Seed Drink from my local Korean food store (even though this one is made in Taiwan).
Or, at least that’s what I thought until I opened the can and took a sip. First warning that boredom would ensue: it was brown. This is never a good thing. I expected it to be clear or milky, like a cucumber. And maybe have some delicious bits of cucumber. Nope. Second warning: it was sweet! Since when is cucumber sweet? And not gross sweet, just boring plain old sweet. Like sugar mixed with burnt water. How do you burn water? I don’t know, but they figured out a way.
It’s so underwhelming, I can’t even think of a snappy line to end with.
UPDATE: R has kindly informed me that this is in fact winter melon flavour, not cucumber. I guess this could’ve made it even more exciting, since I’ve never tried winter melon, but it doesn’t change the fact that it still takes like burnt!
Weird Drinks: Basil Seed Drink with Honey
I’ve recently become obsessed with drinks that have crap floating in them. It started when I had a bizarre craving for aloe vera drink, the kind with floating bits of aloe vera. Mmm. Since finding it in Perth at a Korean grocery store, I’ve been drinking it by the litre.
Anyway, I was in Sydney last week, and while buying vegan Thai lunch in Newtown I spotted a few bottles of Basil Seed drink for sale next to the Coke. It stood out for obvious reasons - the bottle looked like it was full of mini floating eyes that look at you while you drink them. Yum! It tasted like melted popsicle, and the basil seeds were kinda crunchy and slimy at the same time. But in a good way.
Then, the other day I went on a midnight mission to procure some of my delicious aloe 
juice and was super excited to see that they too had the Basil Seed drink, although a different brand (apparently this drink is so popular in Thailand that its made by a bunch of different companies). But, I was disappointed when I took my first sip. It tasted like melted popsicle like the last one, but the basil seeds in this version tasted like dirt.
The dirt taste raises some questions. Is this actually basil seed or something else? While gulping down my first bottle in Sydney (it was a very hot day), I briefly imagined that I was drinking a weird blob creature, made entirely of eyeballs, that feeds on the filth at the bottom of some remote lake. A creature that was put in that by the thriving eyeball-blob-creature-bottling industry in Thailand. And it’s only by some badly translated mix up that Australia gets bottles of this stuff labeled “Basil Seed Drink.” Or maybe that second bottle I got had just gone off.
Kit Kat Tourism: Cookies & Cream
There is nothing more exciting than going to Coles and seeing a new flavour of Kit Kat. But it also kinda sucks, because you realise your old favourites like Kit Kat Cookie Dough are never coming back. It’s sorta the fucked up appeal of Kit Kats - they’re always getting rid of flavours you like to make room for new ones that you might not. But you just have to try them all. It’s a neomaniacs dream. Especially in Japan. They have like 50 million different flavours, and weird ones too, like Fan and Black Sugar. Okay maybe not Fan, but that’s certainly what it looked like from the package. Black Sugar looked and kinda tasted like turd. Anyway, yeah, Cookies & Cream - the latest Australian Kit Kat Flavour. It’s in the chunky bar format, rather than the classic four stick style. I like the chunky better. The official description from Nestle’s Kit Kat site:
Smooth Filling with Crunchy Cookie Pieces over a Crisp Chocolate Wafer Finger Covered in Smooth Milk Chocolate.
Yeah, that’s pretty much it. You can even taste the unnecessary capitalization, which is probably why I found it overwhelmingly creamy, and not in a good way. It’s supposed to be milk chocolate, but the abundance of creamy filling (which I think is supposed to have something to do with Oreos) makes it taste like white chocolate. And I hate white chocolate. It’s not even chocolate, anyway. Overall, Cookies & Cream is okay, but it’s more like a failure version of my all time favourite, Cookie Dough, which had delicious caramel to temper the creaminess, and just the right amount of salt. But that said, it’s still heaps better than Mint or Black Sugar. Worth trying, but probably not destined to be your favourite.
Extreme Food Dating: Outback Jack’s
My five odd years of vegetarianism, which promptly ended when I moved from cosmopolitan central Canada to suburban western Australia, has unfortunately left me rather meat obsessed. Especially steak, which I never liked before. My food eroticist friend Matt told me that there was this steak place in Fremantle called Outback Jack’s where if you ate a kilo of steak ass, I mean rump, they’d give it to you for half price, and an XXXL tshirt to prove it. This seemed like a stupid deal - if you’re going to do something that’s gonna make you constipated for days and sweat meat you should probably be able to do it for free. But then I realised this was the best date idea ever. Obviously. What could be hotter than stuffing meat into your face until you feel like barfing? Plus, the jingle that autoplays when you go to their website (always a good sign) had very Australian men telling me that their steak would melt in my mouth. Take a listen, it’s pretty convincing.
My Date, who somehow remained unfazed when I told him that the evening’s activity was competitive eating, came to pick me up to drive down to Fremantle. Read more
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