The Mouth: Real-deal retro Italian delivers everything but the Zegna suits
Buon Ricordo is a genuine blast from the past – and not in a kitschy way – that serves up classics just the way you want them, writes The Mouth.
Confidential
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There were absolute scenes the other night when one of the lads suggested Melbourne was a better, more fun, more liveable city than Sydney.
In the limited tactical nuclear war that soon followed it was suggested that despite the sprawl and the cold and the trust fund greenies, Moscow-on-the-Yarra does perhaps enjoy a restaurant culture that is less governed by fad.
Well, maybe, maybe not.
Yes, there is much about Sydney’s love of caviar bumps and Instagrammable flurries of truffle that is utterly ridiculous – not that this point would ever be conceded to our Melbourne loving mate above.
But scratch the surface and there are real gems, like Paddington’s Buon Ricordo, a glorious 1980s time capsule that’s only missing its ashtrays and Paul Keating in a sharp Zegna suit.
This column settled in here for a long lunch recently, its first visit in nearly 20 years.
How glorious to see the same tiled floor, the same chairs, the same table arrangement and, in the middle of the room, the same homey bar that wouldn’t have been out of place in Laurie and Noelene Donaher’s Sylvania Waters pile.
And the food! Apparently founding chef-owner ArmandoPercuoco gave the reins over to his former apprentice David Wright a few years ago, and he learned his task well.
Warned that there was “a lot of food” in our plan to go the whole entree, pasta, and main, we nonetheless pressed ahead with a greatest hits tour.
Rich yet almost fluffy fagottini of pork and veal and trotter all lightly worked together with egg and cheese … that famous truffled egg pasta, tossed at the table … veal rolled and stuffed with spinach and nutmeg and parmesan cheese all grilled up on a plate … you get the idea.
This was Italian Australian history on a plate and how we used to eat when we wanted a seriously fat time. If it were music it would be Corelli’s concerti grossi by way of Jimmy Barnes belting out Flame Trees.
It will not be 20 years before this column goes again, but perhaps the best bit was that even as the clock struck five we were told we were still welcome to stay and linger over our grappa. Much nicer than being booted after two hours because management wants to “turn tables”.
Alas this column had to pop in on a very Sydney drinks function where, amazingly, an appetite was once again worked up.
We briefly tried to get into Hubert, which has sadly become something of a theme park social media tourist trap, but wound up having a late night veal Holstein at the new boutique Strand Hotel in Darlinghurst, a gem which will garner a full report soon.