Let’s face it, it’s not only the dish, it’s also the service and the whole experience. Thus, I am torn between two dishes.
One came with a twist on an Old Fashioned in a modern reboot in the Warehouse District in New Orleans, while the other came with a unique craft beer in middle Tasmania (may as well be Middle Earth). Two very different experiences, two dishes I will never forget.
New Orleans, Louisiana, United States
I’ll start with Nola as that was more recent and is freshest in my mind. I love seafood but I have some dietary particulars and need small meals, so I’m all about tapas and share plates. The traditional fried foods and heavy rice portions in Nola are a challenge for me – love to eat them, just can’t tolerate much. So a whole meal of traditional Louisiana food is often wasted on me, especially if travelling alone.
I also don’t mind jazz (love Fritzel’s for traditional European jazz in Nola), but I like a bit of spinning vinyl in the mix, too, and love a bit of retro Motown, disco or 80s tunes. On a recent writing trip to Nola, looking for a spot to cosy-on-in and smash out a few chapters of my next novel (Little Sparrow – set in Nola, no less!), I was craving somewhere nearby with good music and small plates. I hadn’t had enormous success finding places online before arriving (thank you to those that recommended The Daily Beet – my new go to for nourish bowls at brunch or lunch, and matcha or tumeric lattes). As the summer rain pelted down, I happened to walk past the most stunning flower shop I had ever seen, then realised it was attached to a bar with a warm and cavernous glow. Comfy seats with tables in the window. Perfect!
Not just any bar. Junebug.
Makes you think of jitterbug, right? Wasn’t that a dance in the 1950s, a form of swing? That would be correct. Different to a Junebug. I had to ask the question too, and so the lovely waiter educated me on these clumsy beetles that appear across North and South America in the summer. They are so clumsy they often crash into windows, attracted to the light. I decided then and there that was me, crashing in to Junebug for a spot of warmth and writing.
Inside, Junebug is stunning. It is warm and cozy, with multiple sitting and drinking posts, an outdoor dining courtyard (in Australia we’d call that a ‘beer garden’), antique and retro leather lounges, comfy bar stools, a restaurant dining space and high tables for perching at. I loved the arch of lights that flowed over the bar with that warm glow, suited my Ol’ Smoky perfectly. You can read more about Rick Singleton, the award-winning artist behind the lights at Junebug on their website.
And, better still, it is a listening bar, with a wondrous collection of vinyl on offer, mixing electronica with retro, jazz, and all things fun and funky. You can join their Music Club here. Their cocktails are also unique, with mulled wine and other fresh homegrown distils (like smoky bourbon) on the go behind the bar. The menu itself is eclectic, shareable, and good for us foodies. I ended up eating there three or four times over the course of a week, so I tried different things. But there is one dish I went back to multiple times, just to see if it was as good as the first time I ate it. It was a dish I wouldn’t normally order by myself (it’s the kind I would definitely share with my better half), but I always ask the waiters when I’m dining somewhere new, ‘What’s really good on the menu?’ and the young waiter from Houma, Louisiana, knew exactly where to hit the sweet spot.
Trigger warning for vegetarians!
Junebug’s Crispy Spare Ribs with Gochujang Barbecue Sauce are the bees’ knees. Slow-cooked tender meat that is falling off the bone and melts in your mouth. The sauce is a super glazed mix of the best Gochujang, brown sugar, soy, and something smokey. Paired with an Old Fashioned one night, and a special cocktail of the day the next night, it was my favourite Nola BBQ dish.
I’ve since been scooping a spoon full of gochujang into all kinds of dishes back home for that extra kick.
My other faves in Nola? Cochon Butcher and Peche. Reviews coming soon.
Mole Creek, Tasmania, Australia
Now one for the Vegetarians.
But before I get there, Tassie. For those of you that don’t know where it is, it is the southernmost state in Australia. Not as far as the Australian Antarctic Territory at the South Pole, but it is separated from the mainland of Australia by the treacherous Tasman Sea, a stretch of choppy, freezing cold water. Australians get there mostly by flying, but there is also the opportunity to travel on the Spirit of Tasmania, a ferry that can take you and your vehicle across, allowing a self-drive holiday on the ‘apple isle’ (it is slightly shaped like an apple).
Tassie is bloody cold. But it also has much native wildlife and many protected species. It’s pristine, crisp waters are known for fresh fish, and high quality beers. It has become a real foodie haven. Whiskeys, gins, and wines abound. Like Nola, it’s all about the atmosphere and experience. Following a tip off from a mate (thanks Shane and Fran at the stunning Delamere Vinyard – delicious buttery chardonnay), we headed inland to Mole Creek to visit the old kast caves and glow worms, and to eat, and stay, at the Wandering Trout Taphouse.
Now this isn’t just any ol’ taphouse. The Pale Ale and Red Ale are made locally off grid at Mole Creek, where the fresh spring water flows out the back (I’ll come back to that). There’s a pool table, sometimes a DJ spinning vinyl (might be a theme here), other live music, and a single table for 12. The owner lives nearby, and joins diners at the table. Justin told us all about Mole Creek, the beers, and what he was trying to do with his little spot on the map.
It was a set menu, and every dish was delicious. The tappanyaki, the ceviche, the lamb. Absolutely delicious. But one dish blew my mind. I still never tire of thinking of it (just makes me a little hungry…)
Miso eggplant. It’s a popular dish in Australia now, and I’ve always liked eggplant in European dishes – think moussaka and ratatouille – but it was during this trip to Tassie that I had the delectable combination of eggplant and miso for the first time. That seasoning just cuts any bitterness from the eggplant and the eggplant just loves sesame oil. The eggplant, if it were meat, one would describe as melting in your mouth, smooth and silky. I spoke to the chef to understand how he had made it, and I’ve tried to perfect it ever since. I’ll just have to go back one day.
We also happened to be staying overnight at the tap house. We were the only ones there, and had a lovely room and lounge area upstairs. During the night we could hear the rain falling heavily (Australia was experiencing massive floods in the south east corner at this time). We awoke in the morning to fresh milk and locally made yoghurt, fruits and cereals, and high quality coffee.
A quick look outside though showed us the little stream lapping at the corner of the adjacent building. Platypus apparently occupy the river behind the taphouse, but they’re shy little creatures. There’s a great little video of a platypus at Mole Creek here.
Given all the rain, we high-tailed it quickly so we didn’t get stuck. We were due back on the Spirit of Tasmania in a few days’ time. As it was, the ferry was cancelled for the first time in recent history due to the rough and high seas, so we ended up with a few extra days in the north of Tassie before we could safely cross back to the mainland. Memories of the Wandering Trout, Mole Creek and Miso Eggplant now behind us.
The miso paste now gets a workout in our house too. And I have probably eaten fifteen different iterations of miso eggplant since. Drunken Tiger is my local go-to now, probably a nice combination of the sticky, meaty sauce from Nola, but with a definite miso taste, with the mouthwatering softened eggplant), but that first miso eggplant at Wandering Trout was by far the most memorable.
My other faves in Tassie? Magic Curries and the Derwent Bridge Hotel. Reviews coming soon.
Nicole Peel Writes 