MoVida

It has been far too long since I posted. I wish I could come up with an excuse for that. Truth is I am getting a bit lazy. In fact, lazy enough to think of an excuse for being lazy. However, I have still been doing my fair share of food exploration thus I now have a painful amount of backlog to clear. To start off after the long hiatus, MoVida will be first to be crossed off the extensive list. 

Kaili and I had always wanted to dine at MoVida after catching wind that it is one of the better, if not the best restaurants in Melbourne. Since I have already referred to it in the last post about MoVida Next Door, and also delineated the scene, I shall save the words for the food.

Small and cozy.

It was an ordeal for us when it came to ordering the first time we were at MoVida. First is was because the ingredients and names were quite foreign to us. Also, it was because they sounded so exquisite and delicious that we were spoiled for choice.

However, when my gaze met an item on the menu, I zeroed in on it.

Bistec tartar de Wagyu.

It was the spicy steak tartare of raw, grain-fed Wagyu beef. After watching one cooking show after another on TV, and many of them featuring dishes like tartare, tataki and carpaccio, I had developed a strong curiosity for raw beef. Hence, I knew I could not go wrong with the tartare.

Indeed, I did not go wrong. I was immediately charmed by the simple yet alluring presentation of the dish. A neat pile of raw Wagyu embellished by herbs, generously seated in the middle of the plate and crowning that was a perfect quail's yolk; surrounding the tartare was a fan of thin crispy toasts.

Then again, the taste of the tartare paled in comparison to my fascination about it, at first. But then again, steak tartare is not the type of food that bombards the taste buds with an array of intense flavours; rather, it is the kind of dish for the refined palate, one which you would chew slowly with your eyes closed to savour every bit of beef. It may sound dramatic, but it is well worth looking like a pompous blowhard of a food critic while enjoying the meat. How it just melts on your tongue but not without putting up some chewiness for the teeth; how the acidity of the meat balances with the fatty juices the Wagyu is renowned for; how the herbs, spices and onion lend heat and vibrance to the meat; how the quail yolk perfectly binds the whole dish together, the tastes and textures were remarkable, if not amazing.

The thin crispy toasts are no ordinary toasts. There is an added complexity and richness from the olive oil drizzled over the toast. Pairing the toasts and the tartare goes as well as tortilla and salsa. The crispiness of the toasts counters the softness of the beef, making the tartare a much greater delight than it already is.

Cecina.

Air-dried Wagyu with poached egg and truffle foam, I would be a fool to argue with any of the three things in this dish. 

It just looked marvelous when served. It is not the typical fine dining presentation with the fancy crest sprigs, a dollop of cream here and a thin line of sauce there. This was a bountiful blossom of beautifully marbled Wagyu arranged in a petal and in the midst of that, a perfect poached egg with a generous glob of truffle foam to top it off.

To "right" way to eat this, according to our waiter, was to fold the thin slices of Wagyu into the centre and envelop the egg and then break the whole thing apart.

Folded Cecina.

Unlike the tartare, the Cecina comes in big flavours. The air-dried Wagyu resembled jamón in saltiness, the truffle foam was immensely buttery and tasted like truffle, obviously, which is also highly salty. However, this is not the kind of saltiness that makes one cringe and rush for a tall glass of water. Coupled with the runny yolk of the poached egg and the silky butter, the saltiness seemed milder and had more depth when mixed with the fat from the Wagyu which  was deeply rich and flavourful, with the coveted melt-in-your-mouth quality. It was sheer perfection when all the elements combined in a rosy ensemble.  

Caballa ahumado.

Caballa ahumado is smoked cold Spanish mackerel with pine nut Gazpacho sorbet. The dish looked delicate. Thin sliced pieces of gossamer mackerel spread over a long plate, topped with a lavish dollop of Gazpacho sorbet, garnished with pine nuts and crest, it was absolutely ethereal. As compared to the two previous dishes, this was more haughty than magnanimous, but passes perfectly as an archetypal fine dining dish.

The mackerel boasted of the texture of sashimi grade fish, it was sheer ecstasy to chew. The thin but gratifying pieces of mackerel gradually disintegrated and turned from cold to warm, emanating a rich, smoky flavour which enhanced, rather than masked the natural taste of the fish. The Gazpacho sorbet was slightly sweet and very creamy, which balanced well with the savoury and chewy mackerel. There was also a thick, gooey, caramel-like substance on the sorbet, which tasted like sweet soy sauce but with a stronger and more captivating flavour. The pine nuts added an extra edge of crunchiness and nuttiness to a nigh perfect combination. This delectable duo of sweet and savoury makes for an unforgettable experience, and to put that into perspective, out of three visits to MoVida, Kaili and I have ordered this thrice.

Pate de pato.

Liver lovers out there, this is for you - a plentiful parfait of duck liver, a soft, egg-like cube of Pedro Ximenez foam and two stacks of square toasted brioche, all on a rectangular plate. The use of simple geometric shapes makes this dish as much an enjoyment to gaze upon as to chew on.

The liver parfait tasted, well, like liver. This is one of the kinds of food which people either love or hate. The sandy, pasty yet smooth texture enriched the subtle and pleasant bitterness. The Pedro Ximenez foam, which was light, springy, bouncy and foamy with a sweet, fruity flavour, offsets the thick richness of the liver. I figured the intended way to eat this dish is to slice the liver and foam and spread them on the brioche and I think I was right. When eaten that way, the mixture of textures and tastes just burst forth in a rich, vibrant, sweet and salty, soft and crunchy blast.

A word of warning though, this dish is a tad too much for two, unless both are ludicrous liver lovers. As much as I love liver, it was far too intense for me. If I had another two people to share it with, it would be perfect.

Ganache. 

Kaili is well known as a sucker for dessert, myself, not so much. However, certain desserts do appeal to me, like lava cake or soufflés. Hence, we knew we had to order the ganache. Even the waiter who warned us it takes about fifteen minutes guaranteed that it was well worth the wait - and he was right on the money.

We were mesmerised by the ganache when it was served. There it was a perfect, puck shaped dark chocolate cake with a hearty dollop of vanilla bean ice-cream on top and a few cubes of nougat on the side. Cutting the ganache itself with a spoon revealed an treasure trove of molten, dark chocolate, oozing out gradually and mixing with the melted ice-cream. Heavenly.

The chocolate was not the usual cocoa and sugar mix. It had the complex nuttiness and a bitter hint, which evolved into a sweet aftertaste. Soft and moist on the outside, warm and molten on the inside, the ganache was good enough on its own. Married with the ice-cream, the contrast of hot and cold, bitter and sweet makes this dessert one of the best, if not the best dessert Kaili and I have ever tasted. I would go to MoVida for this alone, but knowing how hard it is to get seats, I would probably go for a full meal.

I would not hesitate to call MoVida my favourite restaurant in Melbourne. It features a comfortably sizable menu with just enough variety, dishes with fine dining quality at a more than hearty portion and a very reasonable price. It gives the feeling that in the kitchen is a magnanimous, gregarious chef whose sole aim is for the diners to eat well, drink well and love life. One could really taste and feel the passion pumping through the place and the food. To cut it short, MoVida and its food really takes you places. Spain, perhaps.

1 Hosier Lane,

Melbourne,

VIC 3000.

03 9663 3038

Next door to MoVida Next Door.

View Larger Map

MoVida Next Door

The aptly named MoVida Next Door is one of the hot spots in the city. It is a soulful (meaning: full of souls or too damned crowded) bar in Hosier Lane, just next to Forum Melbourne, obscured in an artsy alley embellished with abstract graffiti and inspirational quotes, its outer façade too, does not lack the painted, witty, light-hearted jokes, which one can enjoy while waiting for a table. 

After Spring's gig on Tuesday, herself, Jayden, Edwin, Kaili and I decided to have a post production celebration dinner. Instead of Movida Next Door, we planned to go Movida. Unfortunately, there was only one table in Movida which could accommodate five and it was occupied. The waiter advised us to try our luck next door, literally. Still, it was an eternity of waiting and we were cold and starving.

We could not wait any more after getting a table. We were squinting at the menu and the specials board, trying to figure out the Spanish words in dim light. In the end, we ordered platija, mejillones, camarones, embutido, codorniz, two bombas and churros. I did the ordering, with the mock Spanish accent and the signature lisp.

Now, to get to what those words mean.

Mejillones.

Mejillones means mussels, not just any mussels but the sweetest mussels that I have ever tasted. There was no doubt about their freshness. Every pair of those iridescent shells cradled a sizeable mussel within. Each of those treasures were firm, succulent and absolutely exquisite. Upon biting them, them just broke apart and the pieces just bounced around my mouth, unleashing the torrent of juicy  goodness from within. Words utterly fail me at this moment in doing justice to the mussels. They were hands down the very best. I would have to credit MoVida Next Door for having found the secret to the miraculous mussels, by marrying them with a light broth. As such, the natural flavour of the mussels was put on stage and in the limelight, with nothing to mask or kill the flavour. On the other hand, the broth was flavoured by the sweetness of the mussels, which Kaili and I would have drank had the pot not been so heavy or if we had a spoon. 

Embutido.

Embutido is just a generic term for sausages. MoVida Next Door serves three types of meats for their version. One is a salami with fennel and aniseed, another thin slices of loin ham and the last being a spicy, chorizo-like ham.

The salami was probably my favourite. It had a more chewy texture due to the hardened spots of fats. The tastes of fennel and aniseed were quite prominent, which gave the salami a more complex flavour as compared to the usual overly salty ones.

The loin ham was quite a new experience for me. It was rather bland and was masked by the taste of olive oil that was drizzled on the board. I suppose one could call it a healthier and more premium ham, due to the light seasoning and the price. The texture of the ham was also typical of expensive ham. It had the texture of grated cheddar, only meatier and slightly softer.

The last of the lot was the spicy ham. There was a stark contrast between that and the loin ham due to the burst of saltiness and spiciness upon chewing. Texture-wise, it was somewhere between the salami and the loin ham. It was not too chewy but not too soft and quite a delight to chew on.

Platija.

Platija simply means flounder and MoVida Next Door fries theirs with butter, jamón and sour peppers. For me, the idea of frying whole fish until crispy with butter is just strange. However, only one side of the fish is fried until crispy, the other just looks like steamed fish. Interestingly, the sour peppers gave the butter sauce a slight hint of sourness while the jamón, salty on their own, did little to the taste of the dish as a whole. The fish itself was amazing though. It was fresh as can be as the flesh was firm and gave a lot of bite. Still, I think it is a rather unpleasant way to cook such a wonderful fish.

Codorniz.

Codorniz means quail. Jayden did not made much fuss about what to order but was rather insistent on the quail and he got what he wanted. The first thing that came to mind when the dish was served was: where is the quail? After digging in the jar that was served together with some shaved, white thing, four pieces of large croutons, we found a rather cute piece of quail meat. The quail, apparently, is pan-seared and then soaked in sherry and pomegranate. By itself, the quail had a wonderful, slightly rubbery texture to it which made it an absolute pleasure to bite. I wondered whether it was the sherry that altered the texture of the meat or was it like that to begin with. One thing the sherry did do was make the quail very sour. Though the idea of eating meat in vinegar is quite appalling to me, the quail had a refreshing quality to it.

When eaten with the croutons and the white things, it was quite a wide range of textures in one mouthful. The croutons were crispy and crunchy, the white things had a fibrous texture and the quail's was as described above. It was certainly an explosion of flavours, which would leave those who are curious and analytic about tastes flustered due to the rather chaotic mix. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I think it could be both.

Camarones.

Camarones means shrimps. These were tiny shrimps deep fried and heavily salted, served in a paper cone, on a wooden board, with a wedge of lemon and aioli, a rather novel presentation. The shrimps were crispy but not completely dry. Despite being thoroughly deep fried, the flesh still retained some moisture.

By themselves the shrimps were terribly salty but when dipped in the aioli, the creamy sourness balances perfectly with the saltiness. It certainly made a good snack. The only thing I have against this dish is the portion. It was by no means hearty.

We were still quite famished after the five dishes. So we ordered some tapas and a dessert.

Bomba.

By now, one would expect another literal name for the next dish. If so, this dish would come as a shocker. It does not take a polyglot to figure out what "bomba" means.

The menu describes the Bomba as a chorizo-filled Catalan Potato Bomb with a spicy sauce. I guess it reminded me of Indonesian perkedel (potato cakes), just with a more Mediterranean touch due to the spicy sauce. The crust was crispy and the potato inside was silky. However, at AUD 4.50 a piece, I would expect the Bomba to stay true to its description "chorizo-filled". I could only find two pieces of chorizo in each of those golf ball sized balls. This one really let me down.

Churros.

It would be an understatement to say that Spring and Kaili were enthusiastic about the churros. It was all they wanted from start to end.

MoVida Next Door's churros are powdered with cinnamon instead of castor sugar, which made it less in-your-face and more of an adult taste. Diners only looking to satisfy their sweet tooth would not be able to appreciate the subtlety of the churros and the dip, which they described in the menu as drinking chocolate. The drinking chocolate is atypical of those usually used as dips. It was not too thick and too sweet. Instead, the taste is more of a complex amalgam of nuts and cocoa.

All in all, MoVida Next Door has a mix of great, good and decent dishes. Fortunately, there was nothing that stood out by putting me off. When it comes to seafood, the freshness is guaranteed but their way of cooking might not be so suited to my taste. Would I return for another meal? Probably for the mussels or if MoVida, which is next door to Next Door, has any vacancies, it would be a much better choice.

I would like to credit Edwin for being my lighting specialist for the night.

1 Hosier Lane,

Melbourne,

VIC 3000.

03 9663 3038

Google Maps does not seem to have 1 Hosier Lane as MoVida Next Door. However, I will still include a map.

View Larger Map