The Apo, Brisbane: restaurant review
Sometimes a menu goes so far in the direction of “cool” as to disappear up its own fundament. Welcome to The Apo.
There’s an item on the menu at The Apo, a new and deliciously mode-ish joint in old Fortitude Valley, that has us scratching our heads: “Moonlight Flat, oyster cream, dried kelp.”
Is this a) A fish caught on the full moon? b) A kind of tortilla? c) A mushroom? Or d) An oyster?
I nudge my brother, next to me on a bench with bum cushions (no chair) and a cement-composite table. “Ask the waitress what a ‘Moonlight Flat’ is.”
“Oh, that’s an oyster,” she responds, “from Batemans Bay. But our oysters tonight are actually from Coffin Bay.” That would be in South Australia, not NSW.
So the menu is not only a conceited fog that assumes the diner will know “Moonlight Flat” is an elite oyster brand, but incorrect as well, because apparently they don’t even have them in the fridge tonight (or the waitress doesn’t know Coffin Bay from Batemans Bay). Whatever, I’d just call the dish “oysters” and be done with it.
Reading down the menu, which is plainly written to impress their buds in the industry, I find it harder to forgive. Let me quote a little more from it… “Beetroot, nitro yoghurt, molasses, amaranth 20.” “Wagyu tartare, beer, cured yolk, soured cream 24.” “Coal grilled octopus, pig cheek, chickpea 22”. “Nitrogen parfait, curd, dried whites 15.” What to make of this?
Take “Local beef, artichoke, horseradish, dried mushroom 36” – which, by the way, is a dish of two fairly lifeless slices of meat that we didn’t bother finishing, served in mushroomy gravy. Despite the waitress’s insistence that the menu is “designed to share” (how novel), this is an awful dish to actually try to share. And what does “local beef” mean? She tells us the meat comes “from a local butcher, AACo”. Let me quote from the “butcher’s” website: “AACo owns and operates a strategic balance of properties, feedlots and farms comprising around 7 million hectares of land in Queensland and the Northern Territory. This equates to roughly 1% of Australia’s land mass.”
The “artichoke” turns out to be Jerusalem artichoke, which isn’t an artichoke (thistle) at all; it’s a tuber. Let me ask: if you read “artichoke”, what veg comes to mind? Plus, Jerusalem artichoke causes a flatulence the thistle family doesn’t deserve to be associated with.
That tartare? It’s a pretty handy dish actually: quality diced wagyu (is it local?), grated, cured yolk over the top and “beer”. That would be beer batter, fried to golden crisps to add a carbo component to the quite salty meat.
It’s a menu that goes so far in the direction of “cool”, so far from delivering expectations, as to disappear up its own fundament.
For the record, the dish described as “Lobster, brioche, chives, egg emulsion 18” is pretty good too: a crisp-shelled bun with chopped lobster meat served with an “egg emulsion”. In anyone else’s language, that’s mayonnaise.
Other examples of a menu that talks to anyone but the paying customer? From the cheese list: “Blue.” Just “Blue.” It’s moronic, an insult to cheese enthusiasts and makers. And “brussels” without the word sprouts (that’s an assumption on my part.) Or “burnt skin” from an earlier menu we didn’t sample. Anyone? Anyone?
And the in-your-face hipster faux toughness of “pig cheek” (guanciale, actually, which is a lot like prosciutto) served with octopus tentacles, and “chickpea” (which actually turns out to be hummus). Oh, the self-consciousness of it all.
Throw into the mix a hassled waitress who starts talking at us before she even gets to the table, and prices that are rather high given the modesty of the amenity (paper napkins, for example), and music that I for one never want to hear again… and you have a restaurant that, despite some enjoyable dishes, I wouldn’t bother with ever again. If you like dining out, you probably shouldn’t either.
Address: 690 Ann St, Fortitude Valley, Qld | Phone: (07) 3252 2403 | Web: theapo.com.au | Hours: Lunch Wed-Sun; dinner Tue-Sun | Typical prices: Small dishes $20; large $36; dessert $15 | Summary: Flat | Rating: 2 out of 5