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There’s plenty of Iberian fight in Subsolo’s menu, writes Nick Dent.
You can’t accuse Subsolo of ordinary presentation. When we’re brought two half-metre long espetadas (Portuguese charcoal skewers) hanging vertically on a stand, it looks like a challenge to rapiers at 10 paces. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
As my friend R says, Portuguese barbeque makes the Aussie variety look like amateur hour. It’s all about the spices – paprika, coriander, garlic, chilli, pepper and cojones. Subsolo’s dirty great skewers are pretty impressive too.
The Misto Completo espetada ($32) has juicy rump, chorizo, chicken and morcilla (Spanish blood sausage) – rich, smoky tastes and flawless meat. The Frutos do Mar espetada ($39) lances prawns, scallops, salmon and squid, all cooked to perfection.
The waiter is kind enough to drag the chunks off the spikes and onto our plates, which is just as well, because with my legendary clumsiness, somebody was going to end up on the business end of one of those things.
Subsolo – Portuguese for basement – is a large, crimson room below street level that has an eclectic design and a fourfold ambition. It’s a restaurant, wine/cocktail bar, tapas bar and café-deli.
This dividing of attentions may account for the fact that when I arrive on a busy Friday night, a waiter waves me towards the middle of the room and goes back to what he’s doing. I set out bravely, but am at a loss as to which is my table. I have to go back and get him to show me. A warmer welcome would have been nice.
But I sip on a Special Ypioca ($15) while waiting for R and C join me, and immediately feel better. Mixologist Sam Fallows has crushed rock melon, lime and passionfruit with coconut sugar, tequila and aged cachaca (Brazilian rum made from sugar cane juice). Passionfruit seeds hang suspended in this icy nectar, winking at me suggestively.
Chef Jacqui Gowan, formerly of Garfish, has put together a tapas menu of dirty, sexy tastes. Earthy, spicy pan-fried pork chorizo and Spanish onions ($18) is tempered by a light apple and cucumber yogurt. A pile of cilantro pan-fried king prawns ($25) sits curled on the plate like a fat man’s fist. Slathered with a bright yellow saffron and paprika mayonnaise, they indeed pack a punch.
Five fabulous little pastelillos of jamon, pimento and sheep’s cheese ($15) are delicate tartlets with a salty undertone, while barbequed lamb cutlets on a chickpea puree and topped with a minted fig salsa ($25) have C declaring that Greek-style lamb is no longer her favourite.
A ceviche we ordered never came, but they didn’t attempt to bill us for it. A bottle of 2006 Alvaro Castro Dao vinho tinto ($82) a fruity red from the Dao region of Portugal, went beautifully with everything.
I was perplexed by the warm pumpkin and nutmeg tortilla with cinnamon ice cream ($14). It didn’t taste like a dessert to me. Luckily, Subsolo’s churros ($14), those sinful fried doughnut fingers, were filled with luscious doce de leite (caramel). At the end of which this Portuguese man o’ war could hardly lift himself out of his chair, let alone raise a cutlass in anger.
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