A Prayer for the Wild at Heart | SA Weekend restaurant review
Don’t be fooled by its unusual name – the bouillabaisse and other classic dishes at this new mysterious venue to the east of the Adelaide CBD come with an authentic French accent.
Food & Wine
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So, you are opening a modern French brasserie. What are you going to call it? Bistro Francais? Already taken. Bon Appetit? An awful cliche. Comme Ci Comme Ca? Better. A Prayer for the Wild at Heart? Absolutely.
For the uninitiated, the name of this mysterious venue to the east of the Adelaide CBD might suggest an eclectic cafe that’s good for an espresso and the chance to hang out with a few artsy folk. All true. What it doesn’t prepare you for is duck liver parfait, salad nicoise and a bouillabaisse that stacks up with some of the best fish soups this side of the Mediterranean.
The line APFTWAH (even the initialism is a mouthful) is taken from a Tennessee Williams play and follows in the literary footsteps of owner Emily Raven’s first Adelaide venue, the coffee-centric My Kingdom for a Horse – a progression, she says, from regret over opportunities lost to a celebration of the boundless energy and opportunities of the hospitality industry.
This thought is embodied in a narrow, L-shaped space on the ground floor of a freshly minted apartment block that looks out to the lawns and giant fairytale trees of Hurtle Square.
Inside, the bare shell has been decked out with a parquetry floor, jade green banquettes, perforated timber panels and marbled tops on tables and bar. Painted love hearts on the wall add a more personal touch.
Raven has lured experienced staff from large hotel groups to run both sides of the pass. On the floor, Mathilde Tytgat might introduce you to wine varieties such as Portugal’s crisp white Loureiro, while conducting proceedings with equal measures of wisdom and warmth. The melodic accent doesn’t hurt either.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Stephane Brizard clearly has an abiding love for the food of his homeland and is relishing the opportunity to pour out his heart. Not that everything on his menu is wedded to tradition. This is cooking that reflects what is happening in France now, not in the past.
A brioche roll, for example, is stuffed with a large, local king prawn poached in butter until just opaque, lightly pickled radishes and the boiled egg, herb and gherkin sauce known as gribiche. It’s about as flash as a slider can get, reflected in an $18 price tag.
More down to earth is a vego version of the Moroccan pastry pastilla (often spelt bastilla). Sweet potato and chickpeas coated in aromatic spices are swaddled in layers of fragile filo-like brik pastry and served with a salsa of green olive and preserved lemon. A pasty from the souk, if you like.
Duck liver parfait looks like a freshly laid slab of grey mortar. Spread on to a slice of brioche, or applied directly to the tongue, it is unashamedly rich, the gamy funk of the offal integrated seamlessly, the tang of a citrus gel and pops of toasted coriander seeds just pulling it back from the edge.
Ricotta gnuddi (ravioli filling minus the pasta) and rainbow chard isn’t exactly a detox either. Not when these fried lozenges are doused in brown butter, chopped hazelnuts and crisp sage leaves.
The bouillabaisse has a single jumbo prawn, mussels and pieces of barramundi, all cooked to the minute, but it isn’t the seafood or discs of waxy potato that rekindle treasured memories of lunch by a Marseilles fisherman’s harbour more than 20 years ago. It is the rust-coloured broth, made in a two-day process, an essence of fish bits, fennel, pastis, saffron and much, much more, combining to a flavour of Mariana Trench depth. Allow it to soak into pieces of dried baguette slathered in rouille, the traditional garlicky accompaniment. Mon dieu!
That’s more than enough but we still bravely take on a millefeuille layered with patisserie cream, white chocolate ganache and raspberry compot … a whimsical love child of vanilla slice and kitchener bun that would be better still with fresh raspberries. Wild at heart? You better believe it.
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