BALMAIN | SYDNEY A-Z

Tony Ilbery

Jul 11

5 min read

The Sydney A–Z challenge is simple. One Sydney suburb for every letter of the alphabet. Every day out follows the same loose plan: a coffee, a meal, a drink and seeing where the day takes me.

Balmain stop number two on the list.

I remember seeing a strange circular structure as the backdrop for some some wedding photos years ago. I could remember the photos vividly, I remember him saying its Balmain, so that was the going to be the starting point, but I had absolutely no idea exactly where. After a bit of detective work on Google, typing in random combinations of big+round+metal+structure+sculpture I finally found it. So in full transparency, as it turns out, the afternoon was now starting in Birchgrove, but its still part of the Balmain Peninsula.

Ballast Point Par and Monte was immediately in his element.

Anything with bush tracks and new smells and he charges ahead like a husky pulling a sled, convinced there's something fascinating just around the next corner. Ballast Point Park is right on Sydney Harbour and home to the circular structure and sculpture which turns out to be part of the Caltex petroleum distillation that was there from 1920-2002. Craved around the top is “Stone statues of ancient waves, tongue like dingoes on shore”. I didn't understand it then, and now know its the opening line from the poem “The Death of Isaac Nathan” by Les Murray, but I still don't understand it. Walking back up from the waters edge Monte bounded up the industrial steel staircase that like it was his own personal Everest, at the top sitting patiently for us to slowly catch up, and pose for a photo.

Mysterious structure, tick.

Lunch was at The Cottage on Darling Street, an old cottage transformed into a relaxed neighbourhood bistro, with a relaxed leafy front courtyard overlooking Darling Street. We arrived without a booking, hoping that lunch would be winding down enough to find an outside table so Monte could join us. Thankfully it was.

Around us, Balmain was doing what Balmain does so well. Long lunches, good conversation and absolutely nobody looking like they had somewhere else to be.

A baby shower was in full swing with toddlers happily running around the table while mums enjoyed cocktails and red wine. Behind them sat two older couples who looked like they'd been sharing a bottle of wine there every weekend for years. Couples settled in for lazy lunches, staff moved quietly between tables without fuss, and the whole place had that comfortable rhythm where nobody seemed in a hurry to leave.

That’s always a good sign

The beer list immediately caught my attention. Mountain Culture's Cult IPA

Steak tartare has become an obsession, if its on the menu, it will be ordered. I almost don't even count it as an entrée.

When I saw Steak Tartare "Cigars" on the menu I was sold immediately. In my mind I pictured something impressive. To me, a cigar is large, I'm picturing a Cuban, like the Cigar I had at Ocean Room years ago. This made the upcoming disappointment even greater.

What arrived looked more like two mini spring rolls, more like a thumb than a cigar.

The tartare itself was good, the cured egg yolk drops across the top was pretty, sadly there was simply too much pastry compared to the amount of steak, and the whole dish finished almost as soon as it started. It felt more like an amuse-bouche than an entrée. It would have been one those perfect little bites to appear halfway through a degustation menu, rather than something you intentionally order to begin lunch.A-Z Balmain

Thankfully, my wife's tuna crudo was everything mine wasn't. Beautiful thick slices of tuna with citrus, and jalapeño gel that somehow managed to feel both delicate and generous at the same time. I immediately had food envy.

Lunch then took a slight detour as staff returned to tell us an original selection wasn't suitable because of food allergies, the chicken was pre-marinaded in garlic and we needed to start again.

Working in hospitality for most of my life, I notice these moments, more than most people, it's never about blame, they are just good reminders that asking one extra question early often saves everyone frustration later.

Another fifteen minutes to find a replacement. Another twenty-five waiting for it to be cooked. It wasn't ideal, but these things happen. What impressed me, though, was that once the food finally arrived, it justified the wait.

The replacement fish was excellent, and my cheeseburger no cheese, which is hardly the most exciting thing on the menu, was perfect. The beef had that beautiful crust, with a juicy inside and mouth-watering char to create texture. Simple food, executed properly.

Good food. A couple of beers. My wife across the table. Monte asleep beside us. Sunshine filtering through the trees. Watching the comings and goings on the street below. It was one of those afternoons where nothing extraordinary happened, yet somehow everything felt exactly right.

Walking back along Darling Street afterwards I was surprised. Years ago I worked in Balmain, and I remembered coffee every few doors. This time it felt different. More retail. Fewer cafés than I'd expected.

Eventually we found exactly what I was chasing a simple double macchiato at Little M, and the caffeine hit I needed to continue the afternoon.

Sydney Brewery was the final stop of the day.

Housed inside the old White Bay Brewery site, it's a cavernous warehouse space with plenty of room, pizza, pool tables, lots of seating and exactly what I was hoping for, a tasting paddle.

The tasting paddle really is my favourite way to experience a brewery. Four beers. Four samples. Four more to the list.

While we worked through the paddle, Monte patiently posed next to me for another selfie photo before another of our brewery traditions continued: Jenga. This one was rapidly shaping up to be one of our better and higher builds. Until it wasn't. The tower collapsed spectacularly with a bang.

Monte launched about two feet into the air before disappearing underneath the table, convinced the world was ending. Every. Single. Time.

As usual his eyes of sheer terror became our cue to finish the last few sips, gather ourselves together and head home.

This was weekending well. When someone asks you on Monday how your weekend was, this is the sort of afternoon you remember. The one that makes you smile. You don't explain every detail. You simply smile and say, "It was really good." Because your batteries are full again.

Another suburb complete.

Twenty-four to go!