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glebe point diner

July 8, 2013

Glebe Point Diner

It all started on moving day. A queen-sized mattress and a desk in the trailer and me, struggling to untangle ropes.

“So this is where you’re going to be living,” said I.

“For the next little while at least,” said he, forehead furrowed at the thought of garbage bags full of clothes, yet to be transported. “Do you think we’ll be able to keep the plants at your parents’?”

“Ohmygosh-I’ve-always-wanted-to-eat-there!” exclaimed I, ignoring his question entirely as a glass facade caught my eye.

A smile.

“Well then, let’s do it. We haven’t been somewhere nice in a while, and we still haven’t had our anniversary lunch.”

It has become an anniversary tradition of ours, the holiday and lunch double, though this year’s expeditions were slightly less grandiose than the first.

“How many anniversary celebrations are you going to have?” asked one, when I mentioned our lunch plans.

“Oh, you know, as many as we can reasonably fit in,” replied I.

And so it was that we ran through the rain, me in my boxy gold jacket and he in his khaki collared shirt (we were running late and dressed in a bit of a rush), toward the miniature box-hedged Glebe Point Diner.

Glebe Point DinerThe plan was to eat off the special lunch menu which, at $45 for two courses or $55 for three (each with a glass of wine), was more than reasonably priced.

I’d perused, no, poured over the options on the set menu in the days previous, all the while hoping that the seasonal menu wouldn’t change in between our booking and eating dates.

“I’m going to have the pate,” said I, one evening to no-one in particular.

No-one in particular stuck his head around the corner.

“I bet you’re planning on having the pork too.”

“Maybe. I know what I’m getting for dessert. I’m just not sure whether or not the pork would make the meal too heavy…”

the menu at glebe point diner

We’d kept our jackets on, having been seated in line with the doorway, and settled in over a glass of wine.

There were brass studded seats at the bar, upholstered in the most fetching shade of green leather. Subway tiles lined the counter and bottles of all shape, size and alcoholic contents filled the dark wooden shelving. We watched the chefs dance softly around the kitchen, each footstep padded and unhurried.

And all the while, cloudy day or not, beams of soft Winter light filtered in through the floor to ceiling windows.

wine at glebe point diner

I passed my glass of red to Koji. Tasty as it was, the dreaded lurgy had rendered me incapable of more than a few sips before lightheadedness set in.

As he sipped, I fell in love with a picture of sardines and thought of how I could possibly acquire it for the blank walls of my non-existent future home.

(Meanwhile, I noted that the diner at the bar had just received her dessert, and that it was exactly what I wanted.)

squid: fried with parsley, aoili & lemon // that picture of sardines

squid: fried with parsley, aoili & lemon // that picture of sardines

pate: burrawong duck liver with fig preserve & toast

pate: burrawong duck liver with fig preserve & toast

 

As is often the case (I’m starting to think it’s a gift of mine), I found myself in possession of the largest, richest entree of the three on the menu. A quenelle of duck liver pate, glossy and smooth, lay idly on a plate with a pool of fig preserve and no less than four(!) slices of charred toast.

It was exactly what I’d come here for.

It spread thickly, without the tiniest bit of grit or gristle. I ate as much as my senses could handle before passing the last quarter over to a thrilled Koji.

His entree, a delicate serve of fried squid, was not even half as filling in comparison, but the flavours! Oh! They danced on the tongue, with a new bit of zest or sweetness or savory or herb to every bite. He was, to speak lightly, most pleased.

pasta: agnolotti filled with pumpkin, raisins, pinenuts & burnt butter

pasta: agnolotti filled with pumpkin, raisins, pinenuts & burnt butter

pork: Barossa Valley Berskshire shoulder, slow roasted with caramelised pears & brussels sprouts

pork: Barossa Valley Berskshire shoulder, slow roasted with caramelised pears & brussels sprouts

As our mains arrived I realised I’d done the double, with a serving of pork that dwarfed Koji’s agnolotti.

Two shards of crackling topped a prism of slow roasted pork shoulder that had been shredded and recompressed into a meltingly soft bundle. The glossy jus coated each piece just so and the caramelised pears added a sweet, palate cleansing element to what would have otherwise been a too-heavy dish. But my favourite element of all were those brussels sprouts over on the left hand side of the plate. Perfectly crunchy and bitter and charred and fresh, I ate them bit by bit, saving them to the very end so as to keep their flavour as the final taste in my mouth.

I had a taste of Koji’s pasta, those perfectly formed pumpkin-filled parcels, and enjoyed the way its subtle sweetness interplayed with the nuttiness of the pinenuts and burnt butter, the freshness of crisp herb.

 

hand cut chips $8.00

hand cut chips $8.00

A supplementary order of hand cut chips was made, part way through our meal, after noting its appearance on each and every one of our neighbouring tables. They were tasty, charred in parts and a little underseasoned, but not in any way unwelcome.

We left a few, at the end of our meal, for I had my heart set on dessert and Koji knew better than to let me try and eat it all by myself.

“You’re too full for dessert” he said, noting my somewhat glazed eyes and slouched position.

banana: fritters, dusted in chai spiced sugar with caramel icecream

banana: fritters, dusted in chai spiced sugar with caramel icecream

I sat upright, focused my pupils and attracted the attention of our waitress.

“One serve of the fritters please?”

Eyes were rolled.

They rolled again, not too long a time later, but this time in delight at the syrupy sweetness, the muddled warmth of spice, the piping hot and shatteringly crisp fritter that almost burst with molten fruit.

A sweet ending to (yet another) sweet year, and hopes of many more to come.

(The plants ended up at my parents’ and they’re doing just fine. Except for the coriander, which is flowering. Again. Dammit.)

outside glebe point diner

 

Glebe Point Diner

407 Glebe Point Road
Glebe NSW  2037
 t: (02) 9660 2646
e: [email protected]
Open for Lunch – Friday to Sunday from 12:00pm
Open for Dinner – Monday to Saturday from 6:00pm 

website

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  • #1
    July 8th, 2013

    Aaaaaawesome stuff. I would definitely order Barossa Valley anything if I saw it on the menu too. And oh happy belated anny to you and your mista! Hope you’re settled down in your new joint now =]

  • #2
    July 9th, 2013

    on the street side, it don’t look like much but I appreciate how it seems to look inside. Quite nice. Food looks good. One to try

  • #3
    July 9th, 2013

    With the name I was expexting a ‘diner’ but what a pleasant suprise. The agnolotti looks fantastic – the pumpkin and burnt butter combo makes my knees weak.

  • #4
    July 9th, 2013

    burnt butter! i had a dream about pasta with burnt butter! i need this. i want this.

  • #5
    July 9th, 2013

    ive heard fantastic reviews about this place! defs going on my list! thx for the review!

  • #6
    July 9th, 2013

    This place has been on the list for so long… The pork main sounds delightful 🙂

  • #7
    July 9th, 2013

    I’ve always wanted to go here too — the pork cracking & fat chips look good, VERY good!

  • #8
    July 10th, 2013

    Your dialogue sounds cheerily disjunct to be lifted from the better of my stories. Did I write you? I hate unruly coriander. My wing-lady says it tastes like toothpaste.

  • #9
    July 12th, 2013

    The photos are sensational! You’ve made me want to go back there with a lusty ferocity!!

    -Lou

Shez