Eumundi Papers: January 2009

Sunday, 11 January 2009

Moleskines, Penguins - there's a lot to be grateful for.

Look through the window! There, in Berkelouw's - Moleskines, the most sensual notebooks in the world, a whole rack of them. I might just pop inside for a few minutes, and admire them up close. Run my fingers over their soft, supple spines ... Actually, I might pick up some more of the pocket-sized ones. I'm sure I need another pack ...

There are a lot of people out there with a (some might say obsessive) thing for stationery - who revel in the sensory delights of a freshly sharpened HB pencil, and the crisp, virginal smell of pristine paper. And I'm proud to be one of them. Moleskines, however, take stationery luurv to a whole new level. For their many adoring fans, these are the Audrey Hepburn of notebooks - timeless, chic, paired-down elegance.

I first formed an emotional attachment to Moleskines a few years back, after spotting them in a shop in Brisbane, and later spent some considerable energy on their behalf, canvassing for a spot in local bookstores. But alas, in those dark pre-Berkelouw days, I could find no-one willing to give them a gig. (Apart from Georgia in Cooroy that is. I miss Georgia, and her dark sense of humour, and the fat labrador you had to trip over on your way to the non-fiction section ...). Now, thankfully, the Berkelouw brothers have brought us Moleskines on our very doorsteps, not to mention Penguins.

Should you dream of living the life of the writers of those famous cream and orange paperbacks - that is, the sitting in a dimly lit corner drinking coffee staring out the window pensively whilst languidly scrawling in a notebook lifestyle - then Moleskines really are for you. As a quick visit to the moleskinsaholics site will reveal, they've long been the companion of choice for writers from Hemingway to Chatwin. Berkelouw's will happily provide the coffee, and the table in the philosophy section up the back has a sufficiently bohemian ambience.

Is it ironic - hypocritical, even - to write a love lettter to paper and pen on a blog, all the while tapping at the bright, shiny interface of a MacBook Pro? I think not. I'm comfy with being a part-time Luddite - technologically savvy when it suits me, complete ignoramus when it doesn't. And at the end of the day, I feel warm and cosy inside to think of the human race evolving, inventing, discovering brave new creative worlds in cyber space, but without yet losing our love of the earthy, tactile pleasures of paper, pencil and ink - and the sound of one hand scribbling.

Sunday, 4 January 2009

'Allo, 'Allo Tearooms: and the case of the Tempting Tarts

What sort of self-respecting Frenchman would call his establishment the 'Allo, 'Allo Tearooms? Well, I'm here to tell you - Thierry would.

As the owner of an ever-expanding business empire set amidst a picturesque property at Flaxton, Thierry is a man astute enough to spot a decent-sized niche in the market. First there was the restaurant (Le Relais Bressan, reviewed here), to which he soon added a clasic car showroom, then a gift shop, then a garden centre (Le Jardin), then a B&B, and now - the 'Allo 'Allo tearooms. One would hope his tongue was planted very firmly in cheek.

For babes too young to remember, the original 'Allo, 'Allo was a hit British comedy series centred around Rene, a hapless cafe owner in occupied France. Unashamedly kitsch, this show had it all: berets, accordians, fake moustaches, bumbling Nazis, equally incompetent Resistance fighters, double entendres, dodgy jokes, and dodgy-beyond-belief accents.

So yes, an 'Allo, 'Allo tearooms run by a Frenchman does sound something of a dodgy joke itself. Thierry, however, has redeemed himself. He has once again pulled it off. And why? Because the food is simply sensational. Just ask Rene - he's eaten there:

At the Flaxton tearooms, all the action centres around a bulging glass showcase, set centre stage, and filled with the most outrageously tempting display of tarts you're likely to see outside France. Stand back, I'm about to let fly with a few double entendres myself: these decadent, voluptuous tarts are so devilishly fruity, so silky smooth, so luscious, so delectable. Just look at them - how could you ever hope to resist anything so brazen, so wicked?

Look at those cheeky, gravity-defying meringues! And those sticky, saucy fig tarts! I soon polished off one of those - after being momentarily annoyed that there was no blood orange slice, which is what I had last time. Blood oranges, Thierry patiently explained, were not in season. Thierry only uses what is fresh and in season. He has standards.

Here's Thierry's son (sorry about the blurry shot - but he's so sweet it had to go in). He's making me a perfect espresso. Yes, perfect. (And to those so-called baristas who persist in serving up cups of lukewarm, coffee-tinged milk - get thee to Flaxton, and take a few tips from someone half your age. Sorry, I really needed to get that off my chest.)

And so, fully satisfied and smiling, we dashed outside into the blustering wind and rain, bundled into the 2CV, and headed back down the range to Eumundi. A bientot, Thierry! We'll see you sooner that later - the Deux Cheveaux drives to your place on autopilot.

Now if Phil could only get that Tardis going, we could get there even quicker.

'Allo, 'Allo Tearooms: 344 Flaxton Drive Flaxton - 54457157.

Closed Tuesdays and Wednesdays (and through September, when the family head off to France for some well-deserved R&R).

Thursday, 1 January 2009

Berkelouw's Cafe: Quality Time with Nana

Sunday, 4.30 pm: an unusually deserted Berkelouw's Cafe. A man sits quietly, attention keenly focussed on his Nana.

Nana slice, that is.

The cake cabinet at Berkelouw's is always rich with promise for cake connoisseurs such as Phil. On any given day, a man can be tempted by baked treats bursting with the yummy goodness of apple, fig, chocolate, pistachios. But the one he turns to again and again is the humble, yet reliably delicious Nana.

The Nana is a buttery (and generously proportioned) shortcrust pastry slice layered with coconut and a rich berry jam. And she goes down very well with a flat white, or short black, or any of the other great cups of coffee served at this much loved addition to Eumundi's cafe culture. Here's a close-up of Nana's charms:

Look at the crema on that coffee. That's enough to tell me it's a decent cup. Of course, recommending coffee is like recommending cafes in general - it's all highly subjective. And even in the best of places, it can depend on who's behind the wheel of the milk frother. Berkelouw's, though, has yet to let me down. Most importantly (and like the bookstore) it's actually there to serve the locals, so that any day of the week, early or late, we have a place to call our own.

Which brings me to the other morning, when there was nothing in the fridge for brekkie. By the time I'd burned rubber to the cafe (7.30 am) the heady scent of freshly-baked berry muffins was wafting through the french windows. They were huge - and melted very satisfyingly in the mouth as I high-tailed it off to work.

On less panicked occasions, I've also enjoyed a couple of scrumptious sit-down breakfasts of eggs, and crunchy ciabatta, and succulent field mushies. As always, it's about respect for top quality produce - and a whole lotta love in the preparation.

Berkelouw's Bookstore and Cafe

Open 7 days a week: 8-5.00
Postscript: The cafe has changed ownership since the time of this review.