Living Below the Line... Moroccan Style

This week, thousands of young Australians will be part of the Oaktree Foundation's "Live Below the Line" campaign. In English, this means that they can only spend $2 per day on food, in order to raise money and awareness of extreme poverty. And for a passionate foodie like me who has no qualms about spending $20 on breakfast alone, the whole concept of Living Below the Line, quite frankly, has always scared the crap out of me.

Figure 1: Kasbah

But this afternoon I found myself in Morocco with some spare time to kill, so I left my hostel and hit the streets of Marrakesh with just 8 dirhams (equal to $1) in my pocket.

NEK MINNIT

Figure 2: Charmoula sole and fresh tomato cous cous with grilled eggplant 

Somehow, I managed to put this meal together with those 8 dirhams, in just under 30 minutes. And I've never even cooked couscous before! Although I can't take all the credit - the lovely Samir who works at my hostel gave me a hand cooking the couscous, and also put out the fire I started in the kitchen. 

Figure 3: My assortment of ingredients, featuring my new camel-skin bag

And if you don't believe me (about spending only $1, not the fire), here's a breakdown of my ingredients:

• Couscous: 2 dirhams, bought at a small grocery store in the Kasbah district
• Fried sole: 2 dirhams, from a stall at the Marrakech souk
• Prawns: For free because I said "thank you" in Arabic to the guy who sold me said fried sole
• Tomato and eggplant: 4 dirhams, from the fresh vegetable stall outside my hostel 

Figure 4: Moroccan spices

Figure 5: Figs, dates and other dried fruits

And just in case you're wondering: no, I did not use any oil or salt; no, I did not buy a meal and pass it off as my own; and yes, it actually tasted good. The fried sole had a strong taste and was extremely salty when eaten on its own, so I decided to break it up and mix it with the couscous to give it some flavour. It worked a treat! And the eggplant didn't need any oil because it's already quite moist when you grill it on a hot pan.

Figure 6: Grilled eggplant

So although I'm not able to do the full week of Live Below the Line, I wish all of you guys participating the best of luck. The Oaktree Foundation is a pretty amazing organisation of young Australians. You can learn more about their cause on their website here.

Figure 7: Djemaa El-Fnaa by night

L'Epicerie

L'Epicerie 

5 Place Emile Zola

21000 Dijon

France

+33 (0) 3 80 30 70 69

lepicerie-dijon.fr

Figure 1: Just like home

I am almost embarrassed to admit that I have been to L'Epicerie a total of six times. Six times. So if you were to count how many days I've actually been in Dijon, that averages out to about once every eight days, which is preposterous. L'Epicerie is one of the first restaurants I ever went to in Dijon, and from the very beginning I simply fell in love with everything about the place - the food, the service, the cosy interior design, and even the owner's little shih tzu who goes around sniffing ladies handbags, receiving little pats as he totters around the restaurant. And I ain't complaining about the tall, dark and handsome maître d' either.

Figure 2: Valentines Day

The word epicerie is French for "grocery store", which is a fitting name for the little sanctuary that has been created inside the four walls of this restaurant. As you enter the restaurant, you feel as though you've stepped into a delicatessen in the French countryside. Jars of preserves, spices, and ceramic bottles line the shelves, legs of ham and ropes of garlic hang from the walls, and there is a certain warmth about the rustic wooden furniture, the modest stone walls, the tea-candles on every table. The waitstaff are welcoming, professional and never miss a beat. A feeling of contentedness and enjoyment reverberates around the restaurant, which amplifies when the restaurant is buzzing with customers.

Figure 4: The sunlit dining room

Figure 5: Cassolette d'Escargots à Aligoté

Until about a month ago, I had always been completely grossed out about eating snails, as most non-French people are. But then there was that plate of snails in garlic butter sauce at Le Petit Roi de la Lune which changed my life forever, and now I'm hooked. When it comes to snails, it's like my brain screams "No!" but my stomach screams "OMNOMNOMNOM!", and we all know who wins the battle with that one. Snails are actually fairly tasteless compared to other meats, and quite frankly they taste like chicken. The trick is to get over the fact that you're eating something that used to be alive, ugly and covered in mucous. After you get past that, eating snails can be a positively delightful experience.

The Cassolette d'Escargots is one of the many entrées at L'Epicerie, which is basically a creamy snail soup made with aligoté, a dry white wine characteristic of the Burgundy region. It was deliciously smooth, yet still sufficiently light from the acidity of the wine, and the crispy croutons on top added a nice contrast. I loved the variety of textures in the dish, which also helps in distracting you from the awkward texture of the snails. The dish had been made with a dynamic blend of herbs which gave it a beautiful aroma and complemented the earthiness of the snails. You must try it.

Figure 6: French onion soup

The Soup l'Oignon is another entrée that I like here - especially the zingy little garnish on top. You use get your spoon and cleave into the thick surface of toasted bread and melted cheese, and underneath you find a dark, fragrant soup with long, tender slices of onion through it. And when you eat it by soaking up some of the soup with some bread from the table, you get a mouthful of rich onion soup with a beautiful crunch of baguette. Classic.

Figure 7: Oeufs en meurette

This is the best entrée I've had in France so far. Oeufs en meurette, another Burgundy specialty, is eggs poached in a red wine sauce. Itzel & I shared it as an entrée on one of our very first food adventures in Dijon, and as soon as we had a spoonful we both exchanged looks of delight and astonishment - it looked so simple, yet tasted so delicious. First, the fragrance of the red wine in the dish hits you. Then you split the egg open and the thick, orange yolk blooms into the glossy, purple sauce. Then you grab the crispy crouton and snap off a piece, snatch up as much sauce as you can and pop it in your mouth. And if you can stop after the first bite, I will be very, very surprised. I love oeufs en meurette because it has a heavy, rich, meaty base, but a comparatively light main ingredient. This lovely balance, combined with its intoxicating aroma, is just magical.

Figure 8: The quintessential Burgundy dish!

There is only one main dish you need to know about at L'Epicerie - the Boeuf Bourguignon, or beef braised in red wine. It is the signature dish of the Burgundy region. It comes presented as a "workman's lunch", in this cute little dark-green metal box with a spindly handle. The lid pops open to reveal a slab of freshly cooked gnocchi topped with grilled cheese (this gnocchi is to die for by the way, light as a cloud). Then you have to remove the piping-hot compartment on top which reveals the steaming Boeuf Bourguignon sitting underneath. The braised beef pieces have been slow cooked, so they're melt-in-your-mouth tender, with an almost buttery consistency. The natural sugars in the vegetables have been brought out by the cooking process and accentuated by the red wine. With a few champignons added, it's the ultimate French meal. Unfortunately I have no pictures of the stew itself - both times I ordered it, I got a bit carried away... and suddenly there was nothing left to photograph.

Figure 9: Food coma secured

When it comes to dessert, my advice to you is to order the big whopping profiterole that comes swimming in a rich chocolate sauce, served with a generous dollop of chantilly cream. But the best part is what's actually inside the profiterole: crème de cassis sorbet. When you crack open the profiterole, the sorbet starts to melt agains the piping-hot chocolate and melds together with the cream, forming a mixture of sweet-and-sour, chocolatey, blackcurrant heaven.

Crème de cassis is a sweet, dark liqueur made from blackcurrants, and is another specialty of Burgundy. At almost every restaurant or bar in Dijon, you will find "kir" on the menu, which is white wine with a measure of crème de cassis added to it. Incidentally, crème de cassis is also the favourite drink of one of Agatha Christie's most famous fictional characters Hercule Poirot, pictured below. And if this guy likes it, you know it's gotta be good.

Figure 10: "I sink you should get ze profiterole."

Figure 10: Photo courtesy of Meg Lusty Photography

If you want something a little lighter for dessert - definitely go for a couple of scoops of L'Epicerie's home-made ice cream. After trying almost all of the flavours over the course of two months, the best flavours in my opinion are petit-beurre (the name of a famous French butter biscuit), pain d'épices (gingerbread) and of course, Nutella. The Nutella flavour has had actual Nutella stirred through it, so there are frozen twists of nutella all through it which snap in your mouth while you're eating.

Ice cream is charged by the scoop, but the fifth scoop is free. This what we call "manipulation".

Figure 11: Good ice cream = happy faces 

I've had so many great meals here: leisurely lunches and candle-lit dinners and spontaneous dessert escapades, with old friends and with new friends. I think if I ever come back to Dijon to visit after exchange, I'll have to come back here to relive all of those memories.

One of the simplest pleasures in life is to enjoy good food in the company of good people. And that is exactly what I have done.

The Hunger

While walking to class with another international student, the topic of travelling came up. He was trying to explain to me some words of advice his father gave him, but was having trouble finding the right words in English. Finally, he said that the simplest translation would be:

"You must travel, otherwise you will die with hunger."

Figure 1: The French Alps, Chamonix

Figure 2: Aiguille de Midi

Every morning, I wake up with this hunger. But I didn't really acknowledge it until my first year of university, when I picked up my pen and wrote down "French - Beginners" on my enrolment form. For four years, I dreamed and dreamed that I would one day live in France, eat French food, travel around the country and be able to speak French beautifully, effortlessly. And now that I am here in France at last, I am finally feeding that hunger.

Figure 3: Mont Blanc!

Figure 4: The view from the top of St Pierre's Cathedral, Geneva 

A hunger for life is just like a hunger for food. Let's say you're craving a giant bowl of chocolate ice cream, or a big juicy hamburger, or some freshly cooked pad thai. When you finally get to sink your teeth into exactly what it is you've been yearning for, you enjoy it so much more than someone who has no appetite. 

So every day that I spend in France, I cherish, because the life that I am living here is what I have craved for so long. Every day, I am filling the emptiness I once had with new experiences, new people, new ways of thinking and memories I will never forget. I am following my dreams, and the satisfaction of doing so is indescribable.

Figure 5: Sunset over Switzerland

I have an appetite for life worth living, and you can bet your life that I will not die hungry. 

Dijon

Figure 1: Palais des Ducs et des Etats de Bourgogne

Figure 2: Rue Buffon



Figure 3: Frosty

Figure 4: À velo? 

During the last seven days, I have observed several notable differences between life in Perth and life in Dijon. Firstly, everyone drives on the wrong side of the road in France (no idea what's going on there). Secondly, I see people eating cheese more often than I see people drinking water. Thirdly, I'm freezing my ass off - the average maximum temperature for this coming week starts with a negative sign. And lastly, but most importantly:

I simply cannot,

stop,

smiling. 

Figure 5: Place du Théâtre 

Figure 6: The original Maille Mustard store

The first thing you need to know about Dijon is, it's where Dijon mustard comes from. Very important. Secondary information is as follows: Dijon is a small city in eastern France, about 90 minutes from Paris by train. A large proportion the population in Dijon are university students, which gives the city a youthful, effervescent atmosphere. Also, after spending a day or two in Dijon, you'll see a lot of references to the "Dukes of Burgundy" - some dudes who lived in a big whopping palace right in the middle of town, between the 11th and 15th centuries. In its heyday, Dijon was a place of tremendous wealth and power, and was thought to be one of the major European cities of art, learning and science. 

There is undoubtedly much to be said about the amazing architecture of Dijon - its origins, how it developed and its characteristic features. But all I know is that it is beautiful. There are a few modern-looking buildings here and there, but most of Dijon is made up of these incredible, grand houses, cathedrals, monuments, theatres, shops and apartment buildings.

Figure 7: Place Darcy



Figure 8: Church of Saint Michel

Figure 9: Wandering the streets 

In my eyes, Dijon is perfect in every way - not too big, not too small. Beautiful old architecture yet not wanting of any modern facilities. It's clean, quiet and safe. I can pick up a freshly baked chocolate croissant for breakfast, for about one Australian dollar. It snows. The florist sells bunches of tulips for €2.50. Everyone is young, amiable and stylish. The French women here inspire me to dress impeccably, and the French men here inspire me to... nevermind. 

And most of all, the food here is (pardon my French) fucking amazing. 

Paul

Course de la gare

21000 Dijon, France

+33 3 80 50 06 95
www.paul.fr

Figure 10: Paradise

Friday was apartment-hunting day, and I set out on a mission to find the perfect place to live during semester. After seeing several apartments which were all really far from each other (one of which was on the 8th floor of a building, with no elevator), I had the munchies. So I ended up at Paul, a little pâtisserie right next to the train station. I went up to the counter and ordered a Menu Paul: your choice of a sandwich, cold drink and dessert for €8.60. The plump, rosy-cheeked French girl behind the counter was so enthusiastic about serving me, I thought she was going to break into song.

Figure 11: Baguette au poulet

I managed to make it back to my table without dropping anything (I was juggling my lunch, a map of Dijon, water bottle, coat, gloves, scarf, beanie and phone) and started tucking into my chicken baguette. And you know those ads on TV where someone bites into something delightfully crisp and delicious, like an apple, and it makes that exaggerated crunch sound? That's what my baguette sounded like. Crusty on the outside, dense and earthy on the inside, yet still retaining lightness. There's not much to say about what the filling was like - I was too busy enjoying the bread. And I sat there eating for about 10 minutes, trying to figure out what the peculiarly spicy, sour taste was in my baguette, when it hit me... there was Dijon mustard in it. Massive win. 

Figure 10: Tarte aux framboises

I then rounded onto my raspberry tart, and had a little photoshoot with it in the middle of the café, much to the bewilderment of the other patrons around me. I then proceeded to demolish it slowly but surely, savouring every bite of the tangy berries and the buttery, crumbly pastry case. And as I sat there indulging in my silly little tart and watching the world go by, I couldn't help but feel so happy about being exactly where I was. It was probably something like the equivalent of a French person sitting in a café in Australia having, what looked like, a love affair with a sausage roll.

But I care very little about the people who stare at me when I'm doing my foodblogging thing. I know what makes me happy. And as far as I'm concerned, that is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. 

Figure 12: Making plans

Figure 13: Perfect

Figure 14: Winter

Marumo Japanese Kitchen

Marumo Japanese Kitchen 

Shop 2, Beasley Road

Leeming Park Shopping Center

Leeming 6149

(08) 9310 8255

www.marumo.com.au

In the lead up to exams, Jeremy insisted that I should keep the 13th of November free. He wouldn't tell me what for, said it was a secret. So I cleared my schedule from 6pm that day, a little unwillingly, as it was smack bang in the middle of my law exams. I was a little clueless when we got into the car and he started driving South. Once you get past the Leach Highway exit, the foodie landscape gets a little dubious. By the time we turned left into Leeming via Beasley Road, I was completely perplexed. Where on earth were we going to eat around here? Banksia Park Primary School?

But I kept my mouth shut (something which happens very rarely) and waited patiently until we arrived at our destination. I figured if he had asked me to save a date almost two months in advance, it would surely have to be for a good reason. 

It was.

Figure 1: Feed me! 

Marumo Japanese Kitchen was opened in January by Moe Oo, formerly head chef at Hayashi in Applecross. Moe then took over the Leeming Fish 'n' Chip shop, and some time later, transformed the premises into a Japanese restaurant. It didn't take long for word to spread about his 7 Course Omakase, for the outrageous price of $39. Marumo has been booked out three months in advance ever since. Don't believe me? Check out the availability on the website. It's nuts. 

Omakase comes from the Japanese word makasu (任す), which means "entrust". In this form of dining, instead of choosing your own dishes from an à la carte menu, the chef prepares a series of dishes for you at his discretion. Although the whole point of Omakase is to allow the chef to choose what he think is best for you, it's not impolite to put in a request to omit or favour certain ingredients. Typical characteristics of Omakase are a good selection of the freshest fish, seasonal ingredients and immaculate presentation, all of which were present at Marumo. 

Figure 2: Chopsticks printed with sakura flowers 

The restaurant seats less than 15 people, but the tables have been arranged in such a way that it doesn't feel cramped. The interior design is humble: basic furniture, a couple of ornaments, and white walls with some colourful stickers stuck onto them. But what I really like about Marumo is that Moe has kept the old layout of the Fish 'n' Chip store, meaning there is no wall separating the kitchen from the customers. So throughout the meal, meters away, you can actually see Moe carefully slicing your sashimi, you can hear him blowtorching the crème brûlée, you can smell the salmon sizzling on the teppanyaki grill. And because Marumo is so small (you can cross the restaurant floor in four strides) the time gap between Moe finishing your dish, and the food arriving at your table, is about 10 seconds.

Appetiser 
Wakame (seaweed salad)

Not only does wakame have this awesome crunchy, gelatinous texture - it's also incredibly healthy. It contains this stuff called fucoxanthin which burns fatty tissue that accumulates around the internal organs, and is also packed with omega 3, calcium, iodine, thiamine, niacin. So it's a bit like an Asian Nutri-Grain.

While poking around on the net, I came across this awesome food blog with a seaweed salad recipe and how to make the tasty seasoning from scratch. I might even try making this next week! 

Karaage
Soy Marinated Quail with pickled daikon (white raddish)

I'm convinced that quail is just one of those things that cannot be eaten politely and neatly, like durian, hot dogs and Hor Fun. I swear that there are bones in a quail that don't exist in a chicken, because every time I go to eat a serving of quail, my plate is soon littered with bones and strands of quail meat that I've had to pull off of the intricate little skeleton. But despite my personal struggles with quail biology, I still enjoyed the tasty, tender meat and liked how delightfully thin and crunchy the batter was. The subtly sour daikon and lemon were a perfect accompaniment.

Korokke 
Vegetable croquette with shichimi lime mayo

This course slotted in well to the progression of dishes from lighter to heavier. Because it was deep fried, it was a little heavier, but not too much, thanks to the light potato filling. Shichimi is a Japanese spice mixture containing 7 ingredients: chilli pepper, Sichuan pepper, roasted orange peel, black sesame seeds, white sesame seeds, poppy seeds, ground ginger and nori (dried seaweed). It gave the mayonnaise a bit of kick, and when you dragged some crispy croquette through it, mixed with a little bit of the sweet, brown sauce, the balance of flavours was lovely. 

Kushi-yaki
Char-grilled Mt Barker chicken thigh with green onion

Very, very tender - with just a little nudge, the chicken would fall off the skewers. The chunk of spring onion was caramelised, so you got a little bite of sweetness at the end. Simple but good. 

Sashimi 
Chef's selection of assorted sashimi served with wasabi & soy sauce

The sashimi was probably my favourite thing out of the whole Omakase. Sometimes at Japanese restaurants you'll get sashimi that is overpoweringly fishy, or too warm, or too limp, or lacking flavour. Good sashimi is a combination of the freshest fish and excellent knife skills, and that's exactly what this was. The tuna was a beautiful vibrant colour, had a nice firmness, and of most of all, it tasted incredible. The fish was so fresh that you could use your chopsticks to lift off each layer of flesh. I'd even go so far as to say it's the best sashimi I've ever had, but don't take my word for it. Try it yourself, and let me know what you think. 

Sushi 
Lightly torched Tasmanian Salmon belly sushi roll with crispy prawn & tobiko

This one was a fairly rich sushi, because of the warm salmon belly on top, the fried prawn inside and lashings of creamy mayonnaise. It was also quite moist, which meant that the sushi was more of a melt-in-your-mouth consistency than the chunky, lego-like texture I'm used to at Nagano's at Broadway. The psychedelic orange stuff is tobiko or flying fish roe, smoky and salty in flavour and pops in your mouth. And again, beautiful presentation. 

Palate cleanser
Orange sorbet



Fish
Teppanyaki salmon served with nori oil

While tucking into my salmon, it was driving me freakin' crazy that I couldn't figure out what this flavour was in the sauce that made it taste so unique. It was sesamey-ish and nutty and creamy and sweet and sharp and salty, all at the same time. I'm still not quite sure what it was, but I've never tasted something like that in a Japanese restaurant. The salmon itself was cooked to perfection and the skin on the salmon had a powerful flavour. Good thing this was the last dish, because I was getting extremely full at this stage!

Dessert 
Matcha crème brûlée with blueberry compôte

The finale was a green tea crème brûlée, which is French for "burnt cream". The custard is prepared ahead of time, then topped with sugar, and torched just before serving. The sugar melts and hardens, resulting in a layer of caramel that shatters, giving way to the creamy custard underneath. The last time I had crème brûlée was at the Trustee with Lucas, and it had been chilled all the way through. However, Marumo's was freshly torched, so the top was hot and the bottom still cold. Because of the matcha, the custard had a pleasant, slightly grainy texture to it and the green tea mellowed the sweetness of it.

Sometimes, people ask me why I only do a couple of food reviews a month, when some food bloggers do 3 or 4 reviews weekly. One could put it down to my abysmal time management skills and inability to finish things that I start. As true as that may be, it's mainly because I won't blog about a place unless I really, really like it. Nobody wants to hear about a mediocre steak, average coffee or an okay tapas joint. They want to know where the good food is, the places worth trekking to or forking out a little extra money for. The hidden gems.

I can safely say that Marumo is one of them.