World Gourmet Summit 2009: Oriol Balaguer Masterclass

By Ellie

Oriol Balaguer’s website is here.

It is unfortunate that one of the most memorable things about the Oriol Balaguer Masterclass was the host person. I say host person because I’m not quite sure what her role was, other than to be a general annoyance.  I was simultaneously afraid and hopeful that someone from the audience would boo her off the platform, but that didn’t happen. Blissfully unimpeded, she proceeded to chatter on throughout the 1.5 hours, paraphrasing and repeating everything the chef said, as if he were incoherent and that we were stupid.

Dear WGS organisers, please ditch the host person next year. Thank you.

Other than this little thorn in our collective flesh, it was an entertaining enough session. It started off with a video presentation (click here for the Spanish version) which outlined the history of chocolate-making in quirky animation, with a question/answer segment where a supposed “child” (who was obviously an adult speaking in a high-pitched and oddly dramatic voice) would ask his mother things like “Can these bitter seeds become choooCOLATE??”

In the second half of the video we were treated to shots of Oriol Balaguer earnestly blinking at his “high tech” machines (his latest collection is called Hightechocolate; very designer, no?) as they beat, shook and piped to the strains of classical music. Modern and slick as hell, as you would expect.

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French Gastronomy Festival: The Harbour Grill (Hilton)

By Ellie

Berns was a little late arriving at The Harbour Grill, so I was ushered in first by the very efficient, slightly scary, French accented maitre d’. He took me past the open kitchen at a brisk clip, where I had just enough time to observe a beautifully plated terrine being handed out of the kitchen by a genial looking Chef Alexandre Lozachmeur. I was startled when the chef caught my eye and smiled, and I barely managed a shy smile back. (I’ve watched enough Gordon Ramsay shows to always be taken aback when chefs display socially normal behaviour.) There was, however, no time for a meaningful relationship to unfold. If the maitre d’ wanted to seat me, I would be seated, and with some flourish.

On my way to the table, the maitre d’ had very seriously informed me that “there’s a child in the table next to yours; I’m just letting you know.” This rang ominous and a little bit exciting, but disappointingly the subject of the high alert was an ordinary baby in a high chair whose only crime was to bang his little fists on the table in the usual baby way. However, this was enough to horrify his entire family, and to trigger a swift and stunningly efficient relocation to the private room. It was the fastest table relocation involving a baby which I’d ever seen, or more accurately not seen. Impressive!

When Berns arrived and was seated with another flourish, we both nudged each other with happy glee and looked around with the kind of wonderment felt by people who don’t usually go out for date meals in expensive establishments and who were just seated by a slightly scary maitre d’.

What quickly followed was easily one of the best lunches I’ve ever had, at the really absurd pricetag of $30++. The waiter was funny. The sommelier had an interestingly unidentifiable accent and indulged us when we played the “let’s guess where you’re from” game with him. There were high society type patrons to gawk at. All of these things are of grave importance. But mostly, the food was just really really good. It was solidly delicious in a toe wriggling sort of way. Unfussy, sensible, perfectly executed, and everything that had to be fresh, was. I’m leaving you with the menu, and the pictures, which sorrowfully do nothing justice.

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French Gastronomy Festival: Le Bistrot Du Sommelier

By Ellie

Tucked away at Princep Street is a little French bistro that is understated in every way. If you’re walking along the corridor connecting the shophouses, there is a danger of missing it completely even if you’re keeping an eye out for it, because there’s really no obvious signage other than a large wine bottle window sticker. Its food is just as modest: unpretentious and hearty French fare, potentially paired with good wine. Potentially, because being the thrifty people that we are, we decided that we could only afford the $30++ set lunch menu. But there is a reason it’s called Le Bistrot Du Sommelier, and the man in question, Max Fedkiw, has an impressive CV (L’Arpege in Paris, and Les Amis here).

Something else which impressed us was the short lineup of Happy Man Bottle Stoppers on a shelf in the dining room.

But, on to the food. (Apologies for the impending earthquake-esque photography; I’m still figuring out how to work the new point-and-shoot.)

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