'The Easter Parade' - Richard Yates

Revolutionary Road was Yates' first novel, and the one to reignite his career (albeit posthumously), thanks to Sam Mendes' film. The jacket of this re-issue of The Easter Parade is crammed with praise for Yates' work. Given the nature of marketing, however, most of it refers to Revolutionary Road, a disservice to this later novel, which demonstrates similar restraint and unflinching observation of lives that play out less than perfectly.

I've done a little bit of reading on Yates, but I'm unsure why it took the film of Revolutionary Road to bring him to the attention of the twenty-first century, or why he hadn't maintained the reputation of Fitzgerald or Carver. Yates' first novel was published in 1961, was well received and nominated for awards. The Easter Parade came out in 1976. Gatsby therefore precedes him by almost half a century; Carver was a contemporary and certainly took influence from Yates' style of realism.

Looking at the endorsements on this edition, it sounds like many respected, current writers knew about the Yates phenomenon all along. That assertion is diluted somewhat by the quote from Nick Hornby, that Revolutionary Road is 'Easily the best novel I've read this year'. I agree with him, but I doubt he's talking about 1961 - apparently even those in the know came to Yates late.

The Easter Parade is a sparse narrative, recounting the lives of two sisters whose parents divorced when the girls were very young. The elder sister, Sarah, follows the expected path of early marriage, settling down to children and never working. The younger Emily flits through jobs and men, always a long way from contentment but assured that the traditional model was not for her.

Although the novel deals with many relationships, it features very little love. Yates was nothing if not a realist, and he is willing to present us with partnerships of expediency rather than romance.

Perhaps one reason Yates was both overlooked for so long and is now so embraced is his subject matter. The reader must remember that The Easter Parade was written over 30 year ago, by a man, and focuses on two women, one of whom has sequential affairs, without ever marrying. The male characters play supporting roles only. Yates' achievement in delivering such a raw yet engaged narrative of two women is a credit. It may have lost him audiences 30 years ago; now, thanks to paths authors such as Yates forged, it's hard to remember how significant it must have been.

Ham or spam?

One of my favourite tasks in December is ordering the Christmas ham. When I was a kid, our ham always came courtesy of my grandfather, who inevitably won the necessary vouchers from his local club to pick up an orange-cellophane wrapped number from the supermarket. Christmas fun officially started on Saturday night, as we snacked on the long-wished for ham after getting back from Mass.

These days my tastes are more discerning. Sandwich ham has been replaced in work lunches by a favoured jamon or proscuitto. And the Christmas ham that takes pride of place in the fridge, wrapped in a vinegar-and-water soaked calico bag, is a different thing entirely, in terms of price and flavour.

'Epicure' ran an intriguing feature today on the state of Australia's cured pork industry. After organising a blind ham tasting, most of the tasters were surprised (that is, disappointed) at the results, and Richard Cornish provides a revealing background to how our December pork-fest is catered for.

Have a read, and let me know what you think. Were you surprised by its revelations? Are any of the tasted meats a feature on your festive table?

Our ham comes from Hagens Organic Meats, at Queen Vic Markets. It's $30 a kilo, which makes it one of the pricier ones. That price, however, means that we get Otway free-range pork (they're linked from the photo at the top of this post), and the legs are prepared for the season, minimising the need for sodium nitrate to be added as a preservative.

One thing that hasn't changed is the excitement that builds up during December, ready for that first slice to lay on top of toast, spread with Warrnambool butter...bring on the 25th!

Panettone: Va Piano II

126C Nicholson St, Brunswick East

Brunswick East's new high performer has added a wonderfully seasonal breakfast to its succinct menu: panettone with cinnamon ricotta, honey, some macerated fruit and a sprinkle of nuts, crowned with a plume of pear.
It's a joyous way to enjoy this traditional festive season bread, and another example of how well Melbourne embraces European customs.

A quick bit of background: panettone is of Milanese origin. The acidic dough used to make the bread is proved for several days, helping to keep it fluffy. Embedded in the dough are candied fruit, zest and raisins.

As with many ethnic products, there are panettones and then there are panettones. Shop at Enoteca Sileno on Lygon St, and you could lay out $60 or so for the best, imported brand of the domed treat. Shop at a supermarket for a much cheaper, artificially sweetened version, turned out in the supermarket bakery (probably at the same time as this year's Easter buns!). Check out Mediterranean Wholesalers for the mid-range: theirs sell from $10-$20 (Va Piano use the Dias brand).

Try your panettone with a decent prosecco, for a delightful afternoon snack, and reflect on its wonderful suitability for an Australian summer celebration, in contrast to the English Christmas pud.

What about you? What are some of your favourite Christmas-time snacks?

Seven Seeds

114 Berkeley Street, Carlton; 03 9347 8664

The coffee pedigree of Mark Dundon must be the envy of roasters around the city. Dundan ran St Ali, the venerated South Melbourne cafe, before selling up and opening Brother Baba Budan in the city, an outlet so confident in the allure of its brews that it put its seating on the ceiling. And now, there is Seven Seeds, a shrine to the bean.

The warehouse space, slotted among the light industrial of the un-chic side of Carlton, hosts roasters, cupping sessions, a retail outlet and an excellent cafe. It's pumping in there, and not just with students and nurses from the closest institutions. It goes without saying that the coffee is worth crossing town for, but the food is playing just as big a part in keeping bums on seats.

The menu is a simple A5 page of delicious things on excellent bread (from Dench), augmented by some fine baked goods on display at the counter. A vivid snack at any time of day is their hommous on sourdough, with a superb dukkah and cherry tomatoes. The hommous itself is extraordinary - rich with oil and perfectly creamed chickpeas.

For lunch try a top-notch ham sandwich, with brie, rocket and onion jam.
But, if it's your first visit, don't try and resist the most delectable item on the menu: Middle Eastern 'nutella', served on sourdough with mascarpone and sesame seeds. My God. The nutella is precisely the consistency of golden syrup, and just as sticky. It's not as sweet though, and paired with the mascarpone it makes for a grown-up, indulgent, but not at all excessive brunch.

Lake House

King Street, Daylesford; 03 5348 3329

A peculiar coincidence occurred the day I finally dined at Lake House: reading 25th anniversary edition of 'Good Weekend' later that night, I came across an article from David Sedaris, a favourite writer of mine, in which he described a trip to Daylesford - parking across the road from our accommodation - complete with lunch at Lake House. It went further the next day, when I was offered a ticket to see his show in January...

But I digress from what was most certainly not a coincidental lunch occasion. I had hankered after sampling Lake House's renowned seasonal fare for some years. Alla Wolf-Tasker has run the venue for a quarter of a century, during which time the Lake House complex has expanded around its centrepiece restaurant - offering massages, spas, facial treatments, accommodation and conference facilities throughout the year - but the food on offer has stayed resolutely local and seasonal.

This is a restaurant that explains to every customer in a given sitting menu changes that include replacing a condiment - horseradish - which has 'just gone out of season' with something more current. They bake their own bread, and frankly a booking is almost worth it just for this sweetly spiced accompaniment.

I went the entree-main option, while SG chose the latter two courses. An amuse bouche of Mt Zero olives, white bean puree and wafer started proceedings.(Note the plate design in the photo - it's the work of Allan Wolf-Tasker, as are all those around the walls.)

My entree affirmed why seasonal dining is such a joy. Spears of white and green asparagus, lined up like pencils in a box, had been bathed in a citrus oil. An inkpot of sauce Maltaise - a smooth blend of egg yolk, butter and blood orange, apparently a traditional match for asparagus - sat to the side. On top is a crumbed poached egg, marvellously holding its egg shape and its runny yolk, beneath its decadently salty coating.

Our recent European adventures have exposed SG and me as unequivocal carnivores. Lake House's menu is certainly swayed towards meat eaters, though it points vegetarians to its longer tasting menu for more, meat-free options. We both went the whole hog, as it were, particularly in light of our dinner the night before. I went so far as to welch on my resolve never to eat veal. Lake House's is milk-fed, and I did feel that if anywhere in Victoria was going to care for their young meat it was this restaurant. And, it came with sweetbreads and artichoke. I couldn't say no.The poached veal on the left sits on a leek mustard. In the middle are the artichoke fritters, a cruelly tiny portion. The sweetmeats (yes, they are the thymus gland on the animal - don't retch, they're delicious) have a texture similar to a very firm mushroom, and like mushrooms form an excellent partnership with butter. On this dish they sit atop a garlic custard, which was far too much how it sounds to be enjoyable!

The pork dish is a veneration of this versatile meat.Crisped rolled belly sits to the left, crowned with apple and smearing a 'cider braised trotter sauce'. In the middle is a divine piece of pork shoulder wrapped in agnolotti, and lastly is brined fillet, again topped with shredded apple and hiding behind some apple foam. The piggie who graces the plate hails from Western Plains.

Because it was that kind of weekend, we indulged with a side of nicola potatoes cooked in duck fat, with rosemary and garlic. Pretty unnecessary, since we'd also accepted the offer of a bread top-up (such a rare thing, and such good bread, I wasn't going to turn it down!), but very worthwhile.

SG's dessert was certainly the visual highlight of the meal.
The centrepiece is a warm orange 'clafoutis' (their inverted commas). Dotted around are pieces of citrus and blobs of perfectly formed meringue atop dollops of tangy lemon curd. The sweet to sour balance of the plate is spot on.

While in some ways it would be nice to access local, well-respected food with a little less of the pomp and ceremony that goes with high-end dining, Lake House do make an effort at egalatarian dining. Most mealtimes offer a two-course fixed price, ranging from $39 for a mid-week lunch to $69 for dinner. Their wine mark-ups, on the other hand, salute the serious drinker: a glass of Galli Estate pinto gris is $12. (It's labelled as Lake House, so I can't be sure if it's the same wine they retail for $20.) And diners are very well cared for, by a legion of floor staff happy to answer questions.

For more information on the local producers Lake House uses, check out their website and go to Restaurant & Cellar > Regional Producers.

Farmers Arms

1 East St, Daylesford; 03 5348 2091

If every town had a pub like the Farmers Arms, noone would live in the city.

Out the back is a one-hat restaurant, thronged with visitors - cosy inside or kicking back in the summer courtyard - enjoying dishes such as rosemary and polenta crumbed pork cutlet with parsnip puree and roasted apples. Out the front, locals and blow-ins jostle at the wide-topped bar for a stool, ready to order some of Daylesford's best food from some of its friendliest staff.

It's a very relaxed set-up. The menu is up on a chalkboard, and everyone's order is put on their tab (making an extra round or course all too easy!). How many pubs do you know with cutlery drawers next to their beer taps?

I'd been dreaming of sausage and mash since we decided to come to Daylesford. The butcher on the main street was closed for the weekend so I missed out on bullboar sausages, but I found a more than suitable substitute at the Farmers Arms: lamb chops with potato salad and roasted capsicum.No less than three glistening hunks of meat blockaded the salad, topped with strips of capsicum and a mess of spinach.

SG pretended to think about the beer-battered fish and chips, but there was really only one thing he was ever going to order (and if he hadn't, I would have!): the porterhouse steak, with rocket and onion salad and roast potatoes. The meat is house-aged and perfectly cooked - lightly charred and utterly succulent. The spuds were just extraordinary - who needs fries?

As delicious and well-prepared as our meat dishes were, we kept something back for dessert: cinnamon doughnuts with dipping sauce.A glass of chilled PX rounded out the ecstasy, which wasn't dulled at all by the arrival of the bill: two meat dishes, a serve of bread, dessert and six drinks came to $108. I think that is superb value. Particularly notable was the PX - the Arms serves Cardenal Cisneros, which is not entry level (it retails for about $60 a bottle) and they sell it for $8 a glass. On the flipside, as with all their desserts, the doughnuts were $15, which for fried flour is a bit cheeky, but it balanced out at a very reasonable night out.

Other Daylesford recommendations

• The Grande, Hepburn Springs - a majestic old building hidden away from the main road, housing a bar, restaurant and accommodation, with stunning views from the back terrace
• Spa and Fire accommodation - great attention to the little details
• Ex Libris paper shop, 89 Vincent St - no item in this shop is short of exquisite
• Cliffy's Emporium - for homely cafe fare and local produce
  

Italy II and Spain I: Cured meats

We established early on that this was going to be a meatlovers' tour of Europe. In some of the towns we travelled to it was just as well: in Sanabria in Spain, for example, most menus offered a choice of how your beef was cooked, and not much more.

More than fillets and steak, however, what really stood out were the cured meats. Our trip itinerary read: Budapest, northern Italy (including Emilia-Romagna), north-western Spain. Looking at those three destinations, three things that immediately come to mind are: salami, prosciutto and jamon.

On the proscuitto front, we were in for a real treat. Other than a dogleg as you near the coast, Ravenna lies in a straight line on the far side of Emilia-Romagna from Parma - home to one of the finest cuts of Italian ham. We stayed at Hotel Centrale Byron, where their 5 euro breakfast featured some of the best crudo we ate on the trip.

That's what is so gorgeous about travelling and eating in Europe. Locavorism isn't an 'ism' over there, it's just the obvious way to do things.

We tried two meat platters around the restaurants of Ravenna, one so divine we went back for it again. Here's Nonna Ayeska's: Proscuitto crudo in the foreground, then (going clockwise) coppa di testa (head cheese), mortadella, piadina, squacquerone, salumi, ciccioli a fette. On the second night, the dish became - implausibly - even better with the addition of some onion jam.

Nonna Ayeska also served up this extraordinary plate of bresaola (for a starter!)The decadent meat slices are topped by equally thin strips of parmagiano and green apple, then dribbled with sultanas and nuts. Just astonishing.

At La Gardela their plate of tagliare buongustao (local cut meats) was differentiated from Ayeska's with the more traditional style ciccioli frolli. Ciccioli is made from leftover pieces of pork, and the frolli style is crunchy, like the ultimate version of pork crackling.

Piadina is the local bread in Ravenna, and perhaps the best value lunch I had while overseas was from the piadineria across the road from our hotel: a fold of the thick, flat, chewy bread clamped around proscuitto crudo and provolone, for 3 euros.

Once we got to Spain, I could have subsisted for the week on my all-time favourite food: fresh Spanish bread laden with jamon serrano.

Sure we pay $60-$100 a kilo for the good stuff here in Australia, but in Spain they don't skimp as they cut straight from a leg on the counter. This is a bocadillo served up in a random bar in Salamanca:
The best cured meat sandwich came from a still-warm breadstick bought in the northern fishing village of Cudillero, filled with serrano bought from a deli in Oviedo, and eaten by a stream gurgling towards the Picos de Europas, in the shadow of this medieval bridge.
In Sanabria, while I moaned over the greatest plate of morcilla ever served, SG was in similar raptures over an enormous serving of lacòn de cerdo con pimientos del piquillo - cured pork with red peppers.
In homage to our regular enjoyment of the cured stuff while we were overseas, we've been pursuing the best purveyors of cured meats around Melbourne. For jamon, you can't go past Casa Iberica in Johnston St. For proscuitto, our current fave is the $60/kg import from the deli in Northcote Plaza. Note that most good delis stock imported and locally cured meats. Often the former are preservative free.

Italy I: Pasta

Our Italy trip was no more pasta laden than an average week of eating in Melbourne. Our attention was far more diverted by cured meats and delicacies, both savoury and sweet, from street-side shops. Pasta undoubtedly deserves its own mention, however, particularly since it formed part of some very worthwhile dining experiences.

Ristorante Vecchio Falconiere in Padova looked like a great find. Accessed via a flowered bridge across a canal, it offered al fresco dining from a menu that promised reasonably priced pastas or, if we felt like going a little crazy, affordable, meaty mains.

But things aren't always as they seem. Rather than menus, our ebullient host brought a tray of pasta models to the table, and talked us through what was on offer, including the blueberry ravioli, or a mixed pasta plate if we liked (mixed entrees maybe, but what were they going to do? Bring it out on a dip tray?). Then, he drew up to his full height, puffed out his chest and said 'For main, I offer you my speciality. All the cuts of horse, cooked for you at the table.'

Call us staid, but we decided to stick with a la carte. We were rewarded for our lack of adventurous spirit, however. First up, the fusilli con cinghiale (wild boar, or wild pork as our host insisted).
This wasn't just any wild boar, but instead the cinta senese, a rare and ancient Tuscan pig represented in writings and art from the 14th century. (Good cured meat lasts a while, but I assume ours rummaged in the fields around Greve rather more recently than that.)

Fusilli in Australia, when bought as dried pasta, is normally shaped as a swirl. Freshly made, Italian fusilli, however, as you can see looks much more like someone took a length of pasta and rolled it over the table. Its curves were perfect for capturing the unctious ragu.

We also loved the tagliatelle con funghi misto, a dish of of rich, earthy variety.
Our favourite restaurant discovery of the trip was Ristorante Nonna Ayeska in Ravenna, the main reasons for which will be elucidated in a coming post on cured meats. Their pasta was nothing to complain about either. The restaurant specialised in the local style of filled pasta, cappelletti, or little hats. These came con ragu or, as below, con vellutata di carciofi.

'Vellutata' literally means velvety, and I think it's a wonderful term to apply to the mush of artichoke that clung to the cheese-filled pasta.

A sauce of salsicce e piselli (sausage and peas), tried on different visits with both gnocchi and strichetti, was delicious, but lessened by the fact that the peas had been cooked in highly salted water, and that saltiness dominated the dish.
Strichetti is Emilia-Romagna's version of farfalle, and looks more like Chicken-in-a-Biscuit than bowties!

At Trattoria da Paccagnella in Padova we sampled some of the Veneto's favoured pastas. Most restaurants feature bigoli, at type of enlarged spaghetti, eaten here con sugo di gallina imbriaga, 'gallina' referring specifically to hen. The sugo, fittingly enough, tasted precisely like chicken soup.

It was one of our last night's in Italy and I excitedly devoured a plate of strigoli con salsa di basilico. There are few greater pleasures than fresh pasta smothered in a zinging basil sauce (and all the better when it comes with garlic wedges like this!).The best food photo of the trip goes to SG's choice at Paccagnella:
Ragu di vitello in bianco e fiori di zucca (twisted pasta in veal and white wine sauce with zucchini flowers).

At Paccagnella, house wine comes to the table in a bottle, and diners pay for a quarter, half or full bottle depending on how much they've drunk.