I finally found Brisbane's most underrated sandwich
A redacted review of the Hellenika zucchini chips, a newish French restaurant and perfect Italian bread
In this week’s Table for One, I tried an Italian sandwich shop serving the city’s best schiacciata, revisited a Greek institution that still shines in parts and tested a new French restaurant still finding its footing.
La Favolosa
This little Italian sandwich shop on Boundary Street is the definition of a dark horse. There are practically no notable aesthetics — a few tall tables and chairs, a deli counter and a big menu on the wall — and in a camera eats first world, one has to wonder if this affects business. However it may, Brisbane is luckily still a place where if the food is delicious and consistently well-made, people will come. Especially if that food is bread-related.
La Favolosa makes hands-down the best schiacciata in the city. It is — dare I say it, better than the ones I had in Florence. The bread is a moreish, crisp bite into a well aerated pillow that is slightly chewy with a perfect crumb (bread nerds will know). When the bread is this masterful, keep the filling simple.
The menu is categorised into fillings of two types: fresh and light or savoury and briny. I ordered a half size of each in the form of the Lucifer (savoury city: nduja, hot soppressata, pecorino cream cheese, eggplant) and the Paradiso (a mortadella-stracciatella-truffle-rocket situation). Freshness of ingredients: undeniable. The filling to bread ratio: should be studied. Balance of flavours: second to none. Owner Arbor knows something we don’t.
I also *had to* order a few cannoli for the drive home. Also some of the best cannoli I’ve had anywhere — crisp shell, light, almost floral ricotta filling. What is in the water at La Favolosa?
2/163 Boundary St, West End
Hellenika
Full disclosure: when I was 19, I worked at Hellenika for six months. Was it the best six months of my life? Absolutely not. Did I eat a lot of slow-cooked lamb shoulder and saganaki? Yes — therefore, it could have been the best six months of my life.
In many cuisines, simplicity is king. This might apply the most to Greek food, where most of its dishes are composed of seasonal produce, meat or seafood dressed or seasoned simply, then grilled, fried or baked. This low-intervention cooking translates to Australian produce beautifully so it’s no surprise why there are so many Greek restaurants (and successful ones at that) in this country.
James Street-ified Greek food is simplicity without charismatic provincial edge. Is it the best Greek food in Brisbane? No. Does it work for the poolside, LA-core environment? Very.
Notable dishes include the ladolemeno-dressed Greek salad with whole kalamatas and a slab of creamy feta; the sharp, salty white taramalsata with fluffy pita bread; and most of all, the complimentary herby fish soup that comes out before everything else (exceptional appetite opener).
For mains, always always always lamb cutlets. These were cooked to a blushy medium-rare (without asking) and came with a wedge of lemon and a spoonful of tzatziki. And perfect, tender octopus kissed by the grill was an unexpected highlight of my year.
I remember being obsessed with the tempura-style zucchini chips topped with crumbled kefalotyri (a pungent sheep’s milk cheese) so I had to order those to commemorate. Perhaps my palate has advanced significantly but they were not the same conversation-stopping snack I recall — quite oily, underseasoned, a bit overcooked. The saganaki, also better a few years ago, was served on a cold plate and went hard and rubbery before it even got to the table.
The Hellenkia galakatoboureko will always have my heart. It's a thick square of set custard in filo pastry and served with orange sugar syrup. I’ve not found better in Brisbane (tell me if you have though).
Level 1/48 James St, Fortitude Valley
Little Provence
French food is wonderful when it is done well. It is a highly technique-heavy cuisine — ask any chef what station is the most difficult and most of them will answer ‘saucier’. And what is French food? 90% sauce.
What happens when the sauce flops? Does the whole menu go belly up? Or can it be saved by a well-cooked piece of protein or fresh, seasonal vegetables?
I pondered these questions when I ate at Little Provence, the newest French restaurant in the old Pneuma and Greenglass space (already, big shoes to fill). The answers were conflicting.
The pâté de campagne at a French restaurant is the marker of quality. Little Provence’s pâté was well seasoned and a typical consistency but the cross section (a recognised indicator of skill) left something to be desired. Souffle is another litmus test — all I will say was this salmon version with veloute was objectively tasty but way too heavy and eggy for a souffle.
I appreciate the effort of showcasing some dishes that are actually from Provence (the south), like the squid ‘a la settoise’ — squid stuffed with pork mince and vegetables cooked in a bouillabaise-y tomato sauce with rice. However, the presentation was pedestrian and the pork filling was bland but the sauce was flavourful and silky. The rice in the sauce ruined the dish for me — it was overcooked and added nothing.
I was really looking forward to the braised beef cheek with polenta and a side of Paris mash (1:1 potatoes and butter) but was very let down by what tasted like reheated frozen mash and a powdery slab of polenta. The beef itself was cooked well and the jus was a good consistency.
336 George St, Brisbane City
Becca Wang is a freelance writer and food and drink columnist. She has by-lines in Broadsheet, Boothby, Gourmet Traveller, RUSSH and others. She is also the founding editor of Hawker Magazine, a food and culture publication. You can keep up with her at @supper.partying.