I’d never been in the back room of the Lowenbrau before. Somehow, miraculously maybe, every booking I’ve made has landed me on the long benches in the front of the house, normally within ear and eye shot of the oom-pa-pa band and the busty beer wenches and lederhosen clad males (is there a male version of wench? All I could think of was “dudes”, and that doesn’t quite suit if you know what I mean.) So when I saw the big ol’ square, solid wood table we were to sit at, and the moose heads in near proximity, I may have squealed. Just maybe.
mooo-ooose!
Soon after everybody had arrived, drinks orders were taken, with a variety of choices being made. One, to my left, had a litre (count ‘em. that’s 1000ml!) of beer. Another tried the non-alcholic (“Does it still taste yeasty?” asked I. “It tastes herby” said her counterpart, after sipping once, and then again for confirmation.) And I, well I had to have the mango weissen. One times mango nectar mixed with good German bier = one times happy camper.
big bier, little bier
It appeared, at the time of seating, that all and sunder would be ordering the pork knuckle. But then one was vegetarian, and another felt like schnitzel, and I, well I’m not good at sticking with my plans when I order. Oftentimes, I’ll decide on one thing, but then, on opening my mouth, something entirely different will come out. Normally the thing I would have ordered if the first was all run out. Or the thing that I was thinking of ordering but decided against for some unknown reason.
Knuspriger Schweinebauch
In this instance, instead of pork knuckle, I said “Pork belly please!” and was instantly confused and delighted at my choice. I had come to eat crackling, you see. Crackling and rich, moist, fatty pork. So whilst mutterings of knuckle were floating around, I was dreaming of boneless knuckle. Preferably boneless, easy to eat knuckle. And potatoes. Because what kinda German meal happens sans potatoes?
inside – check out that fat!
The Knuspriger Schweinebauch is otherwise known as Crackling Roast Pork Belly with Löwenbräu Bier Sauce, Sautéed Potatoes & Red Cabbage. It is also a good couple of dollahs cheaper than its knuckly friend. And it is oh so tasty! Having had the knuckle before, the obvious differences were the lack of bone and the state of the crackling. Whilst the knuckle has crispy, melty crackling, the belly has that hard, shatter-when-you-bite-into-it crackling that is so often found at local RSLs. The meat is whiter here too, instead of the brown meat that is found in the knuckle. All good things really, so I can’t (also won’t) choose one over the other as an ultimate winner. Guess I’ll just have to order them in an alternating sequence 
Löwenschnitzel
One times schnitzel was ordered. And then one times giant-plate-filling schnitzel arrived. For half a second, all I could think was “Oh my goodness! If that’s a chicken breast, how big must that bird have been?!” And then I realised that it was a pork schnitzel, and that I was clearly species confused. But think about it, if it was chicken, you’d be pretty freaked out too right? I think right.
Spaetzle
The spaetzle was served to the lone vegetarian, accompanied by a little side salad. I stared at it, perhaps a little too intently, as it was tasted. “So… what does it taste like?” I asked, hoping for wonder from the mysterious cheesy worms. “Mac & cheese” she replied. “Oh.” said I. And it wasn’t finished, the cheesiness getting to its consumer.
Schlachtplatte
One schlachtplatte was ordered by one times hungry boy. “Please, help yourselves” said he, “My brother finished one once, and I’m gonna try. But I don’t know that I can”. It looks small enough from the top, but from the side, its a whole different story.
the side view
Described only as “Löwenbräu’s Selection of Bavarian Specialities – Sausages, Chicken Schnitzel, Roast Pork Belly Served with Mashed Potato and Sauerkraut”, what the menu doesn’t tell you that it’s enough for two (the version for two is enough for three) and that, when served, it will take up three times as much room as any other dish.
schlachtplatte fail
It also doesn’t tell you that even when one times hungry, and determined, boy tries with all his might to eat it, assisted in part by one times spam-curious girl and a couple of other pickers, he will leave some spam behind. And some belly. And some other assorteds. And a whole lotta sauerkraut. And half a boat of gravy.
Schweinshaxn
But onto what everybody else came for. Knuckle. Beautifully described as Oven Roasted Pork Knuckle with Sauerkraut, Löwenbräu Bier and Mashed Potato. But more fondly known as knuckle made from pig. With crackly crackling. And lotsa potato.
You’ve probably already heard enough about pork knuckle here, and here so (much as I believe them true) I won’t repeat the “crackly goodness” ramblings and the declarations of “moist moist pork!” I will say that if you are a pig-eater, then you should try this. At least once. Maybe twice just to be sure. Three times is ok, as long as the visits are spaced out *winks & points*.
the table
Of course, no-one (and I mean no-one) was allowed to eat anything until their meal had been thoroughly (and studiously) photographed by all in attendance. Much to teh amusement of the lederhosen clad dudes and the busty beer wenches (one of whom took an especial shining to the orderer of the big-plate-of-meat and popped by regularly to ask how his meal was going. He mostly replied with “Nghhhurmph *swallow* good thanks”.
kitsch table dressings. flowers = not real.
Lowenbrau Keller
Corner of Playfair & Argyle Streets
The Rocks
Sydney NSW 2000, Australia
ph 02 9247 7785
If you pass by Maitre Karl pre-sunset, you will most likely see an assorted gaggle of young and old, hip and not-so, human and canine. If you are lucky, the canine will be tethered to the coat hooks that are firmly lodged in the wall, just outside the door, and under the blackboard. “Garage á chiens” the sign reads. “Parking for dogs“. And if the canines are lucky, they will be snacking on a canine-friendly treat, served up in a round metal bowl. I have been and seen on previous occasions, supped on the kitchen speciality of flammenkuche (complete with sharp knife and the heavy wooden board of a plate it comes on), and flashed a toothy grin at Chef Lex who works in the kitchen.
It was the Bean’s Birthday (and oh, I know, it seems like the Bean’s Birthday just keeps on going) and there had been mutterings of a celebratory meal. Friday night was out, as plans had been made prior. Saturday was the big party (Hola!) and Sunday was the aftermath. And then, “Can we do Friday lunch?” was thrown into the mix, and “but work!” and then “and uni!” were tossed in as well, until someone (the Bean) remembered something about a fixed price lunch from Assiette, and how nice “that Warren-fellow from the Taste Festival” had seemed, and all of a sudden, plans had been made. 
It all started with an impromptu email “Oh!” it said “we should do lunch!” But then lunch at the lowenbrau was too great a task, and Thursday lunches had been 
