Huxtaburger
106 Smith Street
Collingwood VIC 3066
+61 3 9419 5101
http://www.huxtaburger.com.au/
In an attempt to have a bikini body ready for a week on the ‘Coast and for moshing around in tiny, tiny denim shorts and a bikini top at Big Day Out ’12, I’ve been extra, extra good with gym attendance. In addition, I’ve been stuffing my body with hot dogs, ice cream, chips and burgers all weekend – oh wait, Libs, you’re doin’ it WRONG. Sigh. I may not have a washboard stomach in a week’s time but hey, at least I can say that I’ve had my fair share of decent guilt-free food as was the case this afternoon at the new burger kid on the block, Huxtaburger.
Owned by the most-likely-Cosby-Show-fanatics dudes responsible for giving us Huxtable restaurant across the road, Huxtaburger has only been open for a millisecond but it’s already doing the rounds on Twitter, Facebook, food blogs and given that we’re in Hipsterland aka Smith Street, tumblr. I rocked up to Huxtaburger this afternoon after buying yet another pair of jeans (‘Aw, but Neuw were having a sale and c’mon, 50% off!’) and because it was close to 3pm, I thought that I’d be safe to avoid crowds – WRONG. Every single outside table was full, and only a couple of high stools inside the very, very tiny takeaway store were vacant. The concept is pretty simple: ‘Hot beef. Cold beer.’ You won’t find any fancy fillings, brioche buns or beers from microbreweries here – it’s just good ol’ honest diner-style burgers at Melbourne prices. There are only five burgers on the menu, from the basic ‘Huxtaburger’ to the cheekily-named ‘Denise’ which comes with jalapenos and sriracha mayo, a nod to the ‘hot one’ on the show. In addition, fries are available as well as a daily salad special – but seriously, who goes to a burger joint wanting a salad?
They were advertising ‘local beers’ for $5 and when I asked them what beers they said, the chick at the counter told me, “VB or Fosters.” The look one on my face must have freaked her out a bit because she then quickly said, “Oh, we had Carltons but they are sold out.” Uh, yeah, NO. Call me a beer snob but when was the last time one would voluntarily order one of those beers on Smith Street without wanting to make an ironic statement? Oh, right…
I ended up getting a 500ml can of Kepplers Irish cider ($9), a tall, dark and well-balanced formula that was also rough around the edges – like Colin Farrell. My Huxtaburger ($8) arrived on a tin plate, looking admittedly a little squishier for wear. I was expecting something, well, with a better posture and when I grabbed the damn thing with both hands, it deflated like a Swiss ball that gave way to a 150kg woman sitting on it. The bun was also a little oily, too. Thus, I was surprised when I bit into it … and saw that it tasted fantastic. The sweet bun held together a wagyu beef pattie that was so buttery and tender that it literally melted in my mouth, slices of tomato, lettuce, cheese and pickles. A generous squirt of mustard, mayo and tomato sauce completed the burger, which was only slightly larger than a Big Mac and cost twice as much. What made the burger especially awesome (and worth the price) was the bun. The slapped on a bit of butter all over the white non-crust bits, before letting the halves sit white-side down on the grill for a bit. As a result, it was not only crispy on the outside (despite the buns halves looking as limp as hell) but also on the inside – a lovely textural contrast when consumed in one bite with the fillings and it also made the burger taste that much better.
I regret not getting a side of fries, which were selling like hotcakes but I’ll give them a try when I order Huxtaburger’s equivalent of The Lot, aptly named ‘Bills.’ Given this burger joint’s popularity, I can only hope that they extend their premises or put out a couple more chairs and tables outside, at least. Get rid of the Fosters and VBs, churn out some milkshakes and we’ll soon see Cee Lo Green and his entourage of honeys crooning ‘Forget You’ at Huxtaburger.
Having discovered this place serendipitously with an ex-girlfriend a few years ago, Marty has many times told me of this awesome brunch venue on Brunswick Street during our late night conversations. So when his plane touched down in Melbourne a few Friday mornings ago and with several hours to kill before lunch, we decided to tram it to Brunswick Street for breakfast.
The lunch options (from what I can recall, there were a variety of dishes from Italian meatballs to scrumptious pasta dishes) sounded amazing but sadly, we were too early for lunch so we had to settle for the breakfast menu. To be honest, none of the breakfast options really jumped out at me but in the end, I chose the corn cakes with avocado salsa, bacon and poached egg ($15).
The corn cakes, so sweet and crunchy, contrasted beautifully with the crispy, salty bacon and the creamy cubes of avocado. Two perfectly poached eggs, when cracked, formed a silky river down the mountain of corn holding everything together. My only complaint would be that the corn cakes were sweeter than what I’m used to and subsequently, I wished that I had asked for extra bacon on the side. Marty, on the other hand, loved it – maybe even more than his own dish.
He had the deli breakfast ($16) which consisted of free-range eggs (he had his poached, too) on toast, bacon, Italian pork sausages and baked beans. Being a sodium fiend, this was probably a dish that, on paper, would have appealed more to my senses than the corn cakes (but I would have omitted the baked beans as I’m not a fan). After having a bite of the tiny, insipid Italian sausages, I was glad that I did not choose this dish – they were nothing like the beautifully coarse and flavoursome salsiccia sausages et al that I’m used to having. Hell, a Coles BBQ sausage had more depth and flavour.
So the other day, I plonked myself by the window and enjoyed a roast beef, caramelised onion, cheese, chutney, aioli, roquette sandwich ($10.50), which was cut into half and presented in a little basket. Cute. I liked my sandwich, which was presented between two luscious slices of sourdough, more than my and Marty’s breakfast from the other time and I devoured it eagerly. They were very generous with the roast beef slices which were tender, with just a small amount of fat lining each slice and all the trimmings – the creamy aioli, the peppery roquette leaves, the sweet tomato chutney and onions and the salty cheese proved to be Oscar-worthy supporting actors. Delicious, and completely made up for the only-just-okay breakfast last time.
As I was paying for my sandwich, my eyes caught sight of a row of pork and fennel lasagnes in containers ($15), ready to be bought for takeaway. The lasagnes were pretty much cooked and all you had to do was nuked them in the microwave. Given that I had nothing to eat for lunch at work the next day and not wanting to eat yet another ham and cheese sandwich, or purchase an insipid chicken and avocado pasta salad from the cafe around the corner, I decided to buy myself a container. I wish I could say that this lasagne was the best thing ever – and certainly the idea of a pork and fennel lasagne is amaze-balls – but sadly, it wasn’t. The pork and fennel ragu was lovely on its own, but they were stingy with it – only a paper-thin layer was sandwiched between the bottom sheet and the sheet on top of it. Plus, the pasta sheets and béchamel sauce smoothered it completely so you could barely taste any pork when eating a spoonful of lasagne. Great concept, but not so great execution.
We started off with some coffees to wake us up from our drowsiness. My latte ($3.50) may have had a slightly thinner texture to what I’m accustomed to, but the flavour of it made it up for the thinness. It was sweet and silky all over, with a slight piquancy at the end of every sip.
Marty had the smoked pulled pork, shredded lettuce and mint, open sandwich with roast pineapple sorbet ($16). Recalling a conversation that we had not too long ago about pulled pork, Marty decided that this time was as good as any to eat pulled pork for the first time. He wasn’t too wild on the idea of a pineapple sorbet being plonked on top of the sandwich though (I agree – who likes soggy sandwiches, anyway?!), but luckily the waitress heeded his request to serve the sorbet separately.
Daisy the boxer, however, seemed to dig the pulled pork…
Thankfully my dish was a raging success. Birdman regulars would know that the café is famous for its baked eggs, which come in a variety of ever-changing flavours. There are usually four different types to choose from – refer to the blackboard inside – and while all of the choices available on the day sounded fantastic, I knew I couldn’t get past the lasagne baked eggs ($14) which was essentially two gorgeously viscous free-range eggs baked in a rich, comforting lasagne and served with two slices of ciabatta and butter. Sexiness.
Every little bite was delicious. Using bits of bread as a spoon, I hungrily devoured the robust beef ragu and the silky pasta sheets, deliciously mixed in with a generous layer of béchamel sauce and the gooey eggs. I was probably only a quarter of the way in when I started to get half-full. Ditching the bread and butter – regrettably, I might add – I tried to finish the rest of the lasagne but sadly, the combination of pasta, meat, eggs, cheese and béchamel was too much for the first meal of the morning. Even Marty (as in, he with the iron stomach) couldn’t finish the whole thing off for me.
Perching myself atop a stool by the window, I ordered a coffee and a plate of penne amatriciana (which I heard was really, really good) and watched the world (well, Brunswick Street) go by. There is something about sitting in one of Melbourne’s iconic gems, underneath the very retro neon red signage and reading The Age while listening in on conversations around me. One conversation that amused me was one between the barista and a lady, who had ordered a skinny latte. She was told that Mario’s did not use skinny milk and that she MUST try a ‘full-cream’ latte because it tastes so much better and she’ll never go back to drinking skinny lattes again. While I do agree with the barista, I just think that it’s odd that they’d deny people the choice to have skinny milk in their coffee. What I found really funny was that my full-cream latte ($3.50) was not the best I’ve had. It contained more foam than a college foam party and it was so watery that I started wondering whether they had, in fact, put skinny milk in mine just to take the piss.
Two slices of white bread and a generous slab of butter. I don’t normally like milquetoast white bread (did I just make a pun? DID I?) but for some reason, white bread in a place like Mario’s works. They’re all about simple, unpretentious food that remains true to its 25-year history and well, if white bread was what they served back in 1986, then I have no issues with them serving white bread in 2011.
I was ready to open up 
A carb-alicious affair, captured (almost) perfectly with my iPhone.
It might have been Tuesday but the place was as full as Loft nightclub on a Saturday night, albeit with less Supre and coronas and more suits and Scotches. Smartly-dressed waiters were always on hand to happily answer questions about serving sizes, wine selection and what a ‘Pommes Anna’ was. After much discussion, it was decided that we’d order all five entrées to share, a bowl of olives to nibble on, two mains, and desserts. You might be wondering, ‘Why only two mains?’ Well, one of the mains we ordered was the 1.1kg rib eye that was enough to feed 2-4 people. Bring it on.
I can’t remember what wine I had. It was most likely a riesling.
Warm sourdough bread rolls. Hard crusts, chewy centres. And lots and lots of butter. Mmmm.
Selection of really, really good olives ($8)
Our first entrée was a serving of heirloom tomatoes, house-made ricotta, brik pastry and white balsamic ($20). Here, McConnell proves that all you need to make a dish look and taste beautiful are simple and fresh ingredients. The fresh heirloom tomato halves were so sweet that I can’t help but wonder whether the boy tending the Cutler & Co vegetable garden forced the tomatoes to listen to Bush’s ‘Glycerine’ as they grew. Rough balls of creamy ricotta diffused the sweetness of the tomatoes while a lightly tangy white balsamic dressing brought them all together.
The wagyu beef tartare with Ortiz anchovy ($25) was another example of a beautifully simple dish. Tessellating jigsaw pieces of soft, raw wagyu mingled with Ortiz anchovy fillets and wafer-thin potato lattices. The result was an exquisite melt-in-your-mouth sensation succinctly punctuated by a gentle crunch.
Unfortunately, we were underwhelmed by the light potato soup, Hervey Bay scallops ($24), despite the fact that this dish was the one I was looking forward to the most. The soup was very bland and the scallops, despite being sweet and succulent, did nothing to elevate the soup into even the realm of ‘above average.’ It was a shame though, because the soup looked rather pretty.
Thankfully, the textures, flavours and colours represented by a beautiful cured kingfish, octopus, fresh wasabi, avocado & cucumber dish ($25) made up for the disappointment of the soup. This dish was almost too pretty to eat but thankfully our tastebuds overrode our eyes, enabling us to enjoy the fresh combination of lime-cured kingfish and tender octopus married with avocados and cucumbers. A hint of house-made wasabi, probably the best I’ve tasted because I didn’t feel my throat burn for ONCE, was there to provide a mild kick.
Finally, the poached chicken, foie gras parfait, quinoa and prune ($25) rounded off the repertoire of (mostly) excellent dishes. The chicken fillets were tender to the touch, and laced with a hint of smokey flavour which blended seamlessly with the rich, gooey and slightly (and pleasantly) metallic-tasting foie gras parfait. Although I thought the quinoa served no purpose but to make things look more balanced, I thought the sweet prunes balanced out the flavours really well.
Along came the monster: the dry-aged 1.1kg Angus rib eye ($160). DA-DA-DUMMMMMM!
It came, armed with a shaved cabbage, dried chilli, orange and fennel salad. And a creamy and mild house-made horseradish paste. And an assortment of condiments, from a Dijon mustard to a sweet wine sauce from from Madeira, shallots, star anise and ginger.
I can honestly say that this was one of the best steaks I’ve ever had. It was cooked perfectly medium-rare. As in, textbook-perfect med-rare. The meat was wood-grilled, on the bone, over a Mallee root which then gave it a subtle smokey flavour while the soft ripples of marbled fat made the steak literally melt in your mouth when bitten into. All the sauces matched the meat perfectly, though I was happy to eat the steak on my own because it was that flavoursome. Oh effking awesome rib-eye, I reach out for you and our hearts collide… mmmm.
I should have took this baby home for my dog, Vega.
Meanwhile, the John Dory with Pommes Anna and local mushrooms ($44) paled in comparison. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was still an excellent dish. The fish was well-cooked all over and the earthy mushrooms complimented the sweet, flesh of one of my favourite fish. And even though I would have preferred a mash or something, I couldn’t really fault the Pommes Anna. Still, it was nowhere near as epic as the rib-eye we had eagerly devoured. Sorry.
We ordered a bunch of desserts, too. Dave had the lychee sorbet with raspberries, roses and lemon sorbet ($18). One of the prettiest desserts I had ever seen, this dish, to me, was an ‘adieu’ to summer and days of sitting in English gardens, waiting for the sun (especially if you, like me, had to endure a shitty Melbourne summer with lots of rain and barely any sun). Incorporating the last handful of lychees from the summer months and pairing them with a lychee sorbet and a tangy lemon one, with hints of subtle rose flavour all over, was nothing short of brilliant. Loved it.
Linda also scored big with her violet ice cream, chocolate ganache, sour cherry and clove meringue ($18). While Dave’s dessert represented summer, hers represented the transition into the cooler months. The violet ice cream was a lovely soft and silky sorbet-like quenelle that boasted small hints of floral notes. It went well with the equally mild and sweet chiffon-like sponge squares that sat next to the ice cream. And although I liked the spiciness of the clove meringue, the richness of the chocolate ganache and the tanginess of the cherries, I did feel that they overpowered the delicate violet ice cream so I had to enjoy them separately rather than WITH the ice cream.
The rest of us, including myself, had the chocolate ice cream sandwich with vanilla parfait and salted caramel ($18). It was a dish that I enjoyed with Shirley a few months ago when we stopped at Cutler & Co for dessert, and a dish that I would order again and again. The photo might be awful, but the dish not so. I can’t decide what I liked most about the dessert: the sweet, soft vanilla parfait, or the crunchy chocolate biscuit ‘sandwich slices’ or the lovely, rich gooey salted caramel. It was magnificent like that U2 song.
And just when you thought that you had enough sugar to last you a month, they brought us some petit fours with our bill. Chocolate fudge squares with black sea salt – can’t ask for anything better, really.
We started off with a quartet of dips. Starting from 12 o’clock and going clockwise, we have your standard tzatziki, a lovely eggplant dip, a luscious skordalia and a fair taramosalata. The lovely, warm and slightly puffy pita bread that came with the dip was delicious.
Next, we had the loukaniko (Greek sausages), which is my favourite sausage behind the Turkish sucuk. And the bratwurst. And the chorizo. It was lightly chargilled with a hint of chilli to give it a slightly fiery kick. Sliced red onions and a wedge of lemons completed the package. So simple, yet so effective. We all loved it.
Our final entree was a grilled saganaki. They used a slice of kefalotyri cheese instead of my preferred haloumi which was a slight downer for me. Plus, it was dry. Then again, given how much I LOVED 
The calamari kicked off the procession of mains ($15.50 for the entree-sized version that Shirley paid for). Each calamari tendril was lightly coated in flour before being plunged into the fryer to come out all light and crispy with the inside being deliciously tender. Shaved fennel and dill topped the tangle of calamari while our friend lemon wedge made yet another appearance.
Next, we had the lemon lamb, apparently a signature dish. It was also apparently slow-cooked but I thought the lamb was a bit on the dry side. I mean, it tasted nice – it had a lovely tangy flavour which worked well with the natural juices of the lamb – but the texture was a downer for me.
On the side, we shared a Greek salad which was alright (I mean, what does one say about a Greek salad?).
For dessert, we shared a bowl of halva ice cream. The other dishes may have stuck to ‘safe’ Greek taverna territory but I was impressed with the ice cream as it was the only time Pireaus Blues showed SOME innovation in their dishes. Not saying that tried and traditional dishes suck or anything but given that most of the dishes we had over the course of this lunch were either okay or just ‘good but not fantastic’, I wasn’t expecting much from the dessert. I loved the ice cream, which had a lovely nutty tahini base and a lovely sweetness that was slight. The addition of semolina gave it a starchy texture while ground pistachios added a bit of crunch and extra taste. Delicious.
The real Saint Jude is supposedly the patron saint of lost causes. But the wine bar on Brunswick Street with the same name as the dude who was the bridegroom at the wedding in Cana and was later martyred in Persia is anything but a lost cause. Trust me. In the space of two weeks Shirley and I have been here twice, a sign that this place is nowhere near sucking. The first time was for dinner and the second time, for pre-dinner drinks. And St Jude’s Cellar is the ideal venue for both.
Situated in the heart of ever-bustling and forever-grungy Brunswick Street, it is a classy Victorian-style space with shades of eccentricity in the form of hipster bartenders who fail to do wrong (well, in terms of recommending wines and inventing wonderful cocktails on a whim) and desk lamps to provide much-needed bursts of lights when the sun retires for the day. Additionally, walls of iron comfortably hold bottles of wines from Australia and around the world – and we’re not talking about just your usual Liquorland stuff either. And although most would order a bottle to share with their companions while sitting at the long bar table or on any of the raised wooden tables around the room, one can also select a bottle to take home for a discounted price.
It was a Tuesday evening when we first walked into St Jude’s, and on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings from 6pm they offer $10 mains for those who consider themselves proletariat enough to sit at the bar. No prizes in guessing where we sat.
I quickly settled on a Pazo San Mauro Albariño ($16), a dry white with bold fruity flavours and a long finish while Shirley mulled over the cocktail list.
Not liking anything that was there, she asked the lively-as-Blake-Lively bartender if he had the skillz to whip up something for her on the spot. Not to be deterred by a challenge, he grabbed some fresh berries and pounded them like how a enraged female would love to pound an especially asshat-y ex-boyfriend. And some fresh lime. And a bit of Belvedere. And a spoonful of sugar. There may have been other ingredients but I don’t remember what they were (Shirley might remember though).
The result was a smooth, sweet cocktail with a hint of fruity tang – kind of like the person the cocktail was named after. Yes, he created a cocktail called The Shirley (but-not-Temple, $16). Awesomeness. Christian Louboutin needs to name a shoe after this dude.
Slices of warm bread and a motherload of Lescure butter kept us happy while we waited for our meals. (We managed to finish all the butter. Yep.)
If you were to choose a $10 main, there would normally be three dishes to choose from (a pasta, a meat dish and a vegetarian dish). Shirley decided to go for the spaghetti marinara, a simple dish that was full of fresh flavours. I gave a tick to the guys for not putting cream in the sauce but instead, using only olive oil, chopped flat-leaf parsley and lots and lots of garlic. I guess my only gripe about this dish was that the only ‘seafood’ that was in it was chunks of salmon and mulloway. But whatever, Shirley reckoned she could order three servings of this next time and be content and quite frankly, so could I.
I chose the ploughman’s plate, which was pretty much a fun DIY job for the diner. On the wooden board was a bunch of ingredients – slices of buttered bread, roast beef, horseradish mustard and aioli, cheddar, roasted pumpkin and mushrooms, pickled onions and rocket leaves – that we could use to construct a roast beef sandwich… or just eat straight off the board if you can’t be effed.
Mmmm, beef.
I could be effed so I got down to business, trying to create The Best Roast Beef Sandwich Ever. Shirley hates mushrooms with a passion so I was able to double-dose on them. Score.
Of course we were never going to leave without dessert. Shirley, a chocaholic, got dibs on a rather strange dessert which consisted of three seemingly disjointed bits – a dark chocolate mousse, a blob of raspberry mascarpone and a nectarine half ($12.50). An odd dessert, I thought furrowing as I bit into a spoonful of mousse. It wasn’t bad though. The decadently rich dark chocolate mousse would have been to much for me to handle on its own so thankfully the tangy and creamy raspberry-mascarpone quenelle and the fresh nectarine provided a sensory relief.
I chose the chilled strawberry soup ($12), a refreshingly light dessert which wasn’t short of taste. The ‘soup’ was naturally sweet with the addition of sliced fresh strawberries providing a lovely touch. A handsome squirt of lemon curd provided an additional tang, while a dollop of Urban honey labna kept things creamy and shredded mint kept things fresh(er).
A plate of freshly cracked walnuts wrapped in double-smoked bacon with apple ($7.50, but we had pancetta on the day we went and were only charged $6 for some reason) certainly did not look impressive. I mean seriously? A handful of walnuts wrapped in bacon/pancetta chucked on a plate with two slices of apple? For $7.50? Hahaha, don’t make me LOL LOL LOL! Fortunately for us, St Jude’s did not let us down. Although any idiot could now make this snack tenfold at home, using ingredients for less than $10 at Coles, praises go to the team at St Jude’s for being the first to come with the idea. It was bizarre, but it was simply delicious. And deliciously simple.
Since we’re both a bit nutty (well more so Shirley than I – hah!), we ordered another dish with nuts, this time a plate of char-grilled asparagus with toasted hazelnuts ($12). Again they kept things simple, with a drizzle of olive oil and cracked pepper being the only seasoning to the dish. Although it did not achieve the dizzying levels of success that our friend walnut did, it was nevertheless a lovely and well-executed dish.
Because we have a penchant for all things fried and unhealthy, we couldn’t go past the fried chicken wings (three for $7.50). We would have liked the chicken wings to be more crispy – they were a bit placid – but we did love the creamy yoghurt sauce that was flecked with roasted sesame seeds.
Finally, we chose a dish from the ‘light meals’ section, a warm fennel salad ($14.50). It was described as a vegetarian dish, consisting of fennel, orange, asparagus and fior di latte so imagine our surprise when we saw a chunk of char-grilled salmon in the salad and a fingerful of fennel discarded to one side like Rachel Berry brushing aside one of her not-as-vocal and not-as-’talented’ glee clubbers.
As you may have picked up, the theme at St Jude’s is random unconventional ingredients thrown into one plate to create a simple but beautiful combination of flavours and while they attempted to do the same here, I can’t say that this salad was as successful as the other dishes we tried. The elements were just too awkward together and not even a flimsy squirt of lemon juice could hold all everything together. Props for the salmon though, which was cooked beautifully rare.
