Just when my reminiscing had calmed down and were having our second coffee in bed, up came the subject of popular inner city restaurants. I suppose, the period between the eighties and mid nineties. We had kids that were grown up enough not to need minding and enough dosh to occasionally go for a nosh. L’ironique was French and next door almost to our flower shop ‘Bloomsbury’. It was always good value and the peppery steak mignon with cantarelli mushrooms was my favourite. A great pity the owners walked out after that disastrous Rainbow Warrior affair in New Zealand in 1985,when many locals turned against anything French, including L’ironique restaurant. The couple running it were actually from Belgique.
This is the reason of the picture of my first bike. I spent time in Southern Belgium just after the war when the Rotterdam quack reckoned I was too close to expiring and in dire need of good and more tucker than my mother could provide. I developed as a first language French and mes parents could not understand me when I finally returned after adequately been fattened up, mainly by bucket loads of mussels. I can still see steaming pots of them. Those temporary foster Belgians gave me that bike and had a large garden in which I was fascinated by all things flying, especially butterflies for which the kind people had given me a net to try and catch them.
The next best restaurant was in Cleveland street, Surrey Hills named L’aubergade. I feel it could still be there. They survived the anti French period. Another beauty but Italian was La Lupa, first in Surrey Hills and later in Balmain. I used to love their grilled liver soaked first in lemon juice.
Another Italian place in Liberty Street, Stanmore was the one for veal and oregano (saltimbocca). It was a family run restaurant in a large converted house. I have forgotten the name.
So, there you are. My first bike. Mike has put me off the H Davison, I suppose too big and heavy, too US too. Think will contemplate the Duke. I saw a yellow one here in Goulburn, very sleek.
All the best for everyone but especially all the piglets in the New Year.
Gerard.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Just noticed this – the restaurant in liberty st was TRE VENEZIE (not tres!), L’aubergade was in Surry Hills (not Surrey Hills), the restaurant corner of Stanley and Palmer was UPSTAIRS and the Victoria St one may have been L’Entrecote.
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Hi Neil.
Welcome to the Pig’s Arms. Yes, I remember Tre Venezie in Liberty Street. It was the location for kicking off one of the monster blues I had with my (now) ex-wife. I can’t remember the meal, or the substance of the blue, but every time I drive past the old Tre, I get that pit of the stomach kind of memory 🙂
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There used to be a very good and very expensive Italian restaurant in Pott’s Point towards Elizabeth Bay. I can’t remember the name. We only went there on special occasions, like my birthdays 🙂
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Rubbing shoulders with the glitterati H
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…once a year was fine, the glitter did not stick !
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The Istanbul, Crown Lane in the Gong. Tutu and I would go there about once a week. Excellent food and great people, foreign I think. In the end they just used to bring out plates of food till we had enough. I would just pay whatever they asked. Fantastic.
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Jump in the Mouth, my favourite
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Food is your favorite Hung
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…aiming for for size XXXL, Hung? I have had a fruit salad and a tin of sardines with some tomatoes today; let’s see what the tomorrow brings…
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Hope not H. Tutu and I have similar backgrounds. Me , English/Irish her English/Scottish. When we got together we both loved to cook and agreed not to return to the food our parents prepared for us.
It was fantastic. Mexican, Italian, Spanish, Greek and Indian just to name a few. Then when our boys arrived, Seek and Destroy, we had to tone it down a bit. Cooking became a bit dull after a while as it was difficult to please all.
Now they have left it has become interesting again although I’m on the gluten free diet now. I have dropped 7 kgs since last easter and have another 7 to go. I’m just glad that shiraz is so good for you
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The name “L’ironique” rings large bells. I can remember two French Restaurants in Sydney that lived up to their reputations. Can’t remember the name of either.
One was on the corner of Stanley and Palmer Streets in Darlinghurst. Just a small shop front operation, upstairs and downstairs maybe 50 covers; but crisp, clean linen, great chairs, superb service and a wine list that while expensive was heavenly. The food was ….., indescribably good.
The other was on Victoria Street in the Cross. This one was highly Gallic in that openly hostile Parisienne way. It was literally a hole in the wall, not that comfortable, but the quality of the food and the wine list made all its failings and foibles forgivable. I recall the bill was in direct inverse proportion to the civility of our waiters, but the food was worth it.
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Oh, Gez. I remember with fondness L’Ironique. The missus-to-be ordered garlic snails. They had grabber tongs and one load malfunctioned – sending the mollusc flying. Everyone around us was recruited into the fruitless search.
it was only when we were departing and she stood, that the missing shellfish revealed itself to be on her seat. How it got there defies the laws of physics.
The restaurant you were looking for in Liberty Street Stanmore is no longer there. It was called Tres Venezie. Same woman and I had one of our memorable major in-public punch up blues there. I have no recollection of the food. Something tasting of shoe leather, I suspect.
Just up the road from l’Aubergade was the Little Frog. I once took a delightful Sheila there one week – and another a fortnight later. The fuckwit waiter insisted he knew me – raising a lot of tricky questions with my second companion. I gave him the look of death but he was too thick to pick up on it.
The classic retro-looking Duke comes in a nice black with white racing stripes down the top of the Imola tank and the turtle deck south of the seat. Gorgeous, but I think it might come with clip-on bars – not good for an ageing back. If you want something easier to live with, go the Guzzi 750 or a Duke Monster – not beautiful but better ergonomics than the classic.
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Gez, please not anything yellow, no yellow swimmers, no yellow bikes…
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What about submarines, H?
We all live in them, you know!
I have a fervent animosity towards motorbikes. Not only because I fell off the back of one, once when I was about 14 (had to wait for years afterwards for my bum to get back to its natural place) but also because of their noise. I can’t stand it!
Give me a small car any day, but the hypocrite that I am, I drive an old ’88 Merc -320! I can’t afford to change it to something new and small and I can’t be bothered learning the new engineering and technology that goes with it. Sister bought a new Honda and the doo-dahs in the thing made my head spin.
But we hardly do any driving at all these days and I’m still looking. Maybe one day!
But it’ll never be a bike! However sleek and however it’s coloured.
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By the time the birthday comes he will have forgotten about bikes, and I will not be reminding.
The room we call our office was wallpapered by the previous owners with yellow and white striped wallpaper, it also had yellow curtains. I replaced them white muslin ones, and that makes my ‘submarine’ bearable; it has a very long factory table as a desk, and built-ins for storage and three chairs, the third one is for Milo.When the three boys come over, they borrow our computers and need all the three chairs…
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