Chef brings invention to the table in freo

Rob BroadfieldThe West Australian If cooking were sport, chef Melissa Palinkas’ marron has kicked a goal 50m out from the boundary. Her marron thermidor is a riff on the 1970s classic,

lobster thermidor, well known to chefs of a certain age who did their apprenticeships when sauce cookery was still a thing and steak Diane was posh. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, “Never

was so much owed by so many to so few.” The “few” is Palinkas and her team. The “many” is those of us who love to eat in restaurants. The “so much” is her marron: a ludicrously amped-up

plate of nostalgia based on a jumbo-size split and grilled marron luxuriating in a cheesy, white wine flavoured bechamel sauce. The 70s was the nadir for this classic, courtesy of

over-cheesy, greasy and stodgy white sauce — what the Margaret Fulton generation called a mornay sauce. Palinkas’ light touch and modern technique just made thermidor fashionable again. If

you believe in such celestial entities, God smiled benignly on Palinkas when he/she was handing out the cooking talent. And here’s the beguiling bit. Palinkas does not play in the top

echelons of the restaurant sector where linen is crisp and silences are reverential — though she could, in a heartbeat. Her preferred playground is deep down in dude territory where she

turns her talent to creating original dishes such as smoked pork jowl with fermented cabbage, apple, gochujang, maple and puffed grains (awesome, by the way), or a half buttermilk roast

chicken with chestnut, bacon and seed stuffing and chicken jus. Drooling yet? You should be. Not much more to say about the marron, except that it was delightfully undercooked, moist and

sweet. The gratineed white sauce was perky and light, with just the right amount of cheesy nuttiness. It was one of the smartest dishes we’ve had in a while. It’s $45, which is something of

a bargain, and big enough for two to share. And, as if that wasn’t enough, it was served with deep-fried, crispy and hair-thin potato straws. Ridonkulously tasty. Young George’s menu is a

sexy read. How could you say no, for instance, to “wood-baked nettle dumplings, parsley root cream, farro and pickled onion?” We couldn’t and didn’t. We were rewarded with what could be best

described as a firm baked gnocchi, chock-a-block with nettles in a blonde puddle of light, parsley scented crema, a nutty, chewy scattering of farro and a garland of house-pickled onion

tendrils to cut through the unction. $24. If Young George had a signature dish, it would be its organic chop chop beef, $20, based on hand-chopped raw beef perched on house-made nacho crisps

and dressed to kill with a crunchy, punchy salsa fresca, fried jalapenos — for texture and danger — and a vibrant crema to add mouthfeel and salt. We’re told it is the restaurant’s most

popular dish and it’s easy to see why. It’s a looker with substance and generously served. We cherrypicked from a menu which conformed neither to an entree/main/dessert structure or to

conventional wisdom. We ordered as we went: a few dishes to start, then more substantial plates as our lunch progressed. Mix it up anyway you like. “Broccamole” with salsa and corn chips is

Palinkas’ take on guacamole, made with broccoli. Again, precise cookery, well-deployed texture and powerful flavours. Young George offers a $25 lunch with your choice of three dishes from a

separate menu. From that menu, a large canape-sized dish of “Vegemite” beef and caramelised onions was served on a thick slice of hot, chargrilled sourdough with a smoky sour cream. It was

an extraordinary soft-braised puck of rich beef and sweet, dark onion. Absolutely wonderful and so rich, it felt naughty. Our “go to” at Young George is the fried-chicken milk bun. The soft,

pillowy buns are made in-house. The fried chicken was properly juicy and seasoned. It had more crunch than a ski boot on powder. Palinkas’ partner Susan Wheelan runs a tight ship out front.

Service is energetic. Earlier this year, Wheelan rolled out a cocktail program of some heft. Weekend nights see lucky punters three deep at the venue’s long bar, snorkelling good cocktails

and carefully curated wine by the glass. The wine list at Young George is a well-crafted document, with interesting small and large producer titles, without being boorishly hipster or too

clever. Young George is a showcase for the kitchen’s unseemly levels of talent. It’s also inventive, fun, smart and drop-dead gorgeous. GET THE LATEST NEWS FROM THEWEST.COM.AU IN YOUR INBOX.

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