last friday, i thought i’d partake of an experiment in which i try to ascertain if it is possible to have lunch across town in the few short hours when the kid is at school. i’d been interested in the modern british food at bistrode for a while, and they launched a $30 two-course lunch deal a short time ago, and deborah‘s clever sister had recently been appointed head chef, hurrah, so that’s where we went.

walking up the leafy back avenues of surry hills reminded me how much i miss this part of sydney. back in the day, i walked these streets for treats: a greek biscuit here, a plate of 30c pastizzi there, a bit of sauce on the side, a magazine at the taylor square newsagents, a mosey in the pop shop on oxford street —

say! did you know that the pop shop, which closed down a few years ago, has reopened on crown street? it was totally my favourite shop on the oxford drag back in — sigh, the 90s — and my heart sang like the rainbow flag out front when i got off the bus last friday and saw it right there in front of me. it is a smidgen smaller than the original shop, but still chock full of tchotchkes, pop cultural references galore, bacon-flavoured mints and bandaids… i picked a constructible drinking straw set for the kid, and when i got to the counter i asked the counterman how long they’d been open there. “almost a year,” he said. “wow,” i said, “that means i haven’t been this way in at least a year.” “well,” he said, “then you should get out more.”

quite. treats were still here for the taking.

we were seated just a whisper before noon, at a table by the front windows. we were offered a smile, a bottle of water, and warm bread and butter. the restaurant is a small, welcoming space, elegant yet utilitarian, all dark wood and white tiles befitting the old butcher shop it once was. as the room filled up over the next hour, the shiny surfaces threw the sounds of lunchtime back in a most cacophonous manner. we took advantage of the early calm to consider the menu.

“i think,” said deborah, “that i need to try the brains.”

a suggestion that i approached with an open mind.

my first ever experience with a brain — we had a hemisphere each; that’s them up top — was… surprising. i was surprised by how creamy it was, and what a mild flavour it had. i was surprised too, when i cut it open, and there, almost imperceptibly white on pale grey, were the perfect petals of the cerebral structure. i wasn’t quite grossed out, but the sturdy shell of tasty crumbs and a good smear of the luscious tartare sauce certainly made it more of a treat. the furthering of my food education, courtesy of the chef.

next out was a portion of hot-smoked eel perched daintily on a bed of thick-sliced beetroot. oh it was delicious: all at once salty-fishy-sticky-smoky, perfectly balanced and well served by the barely dressed salad and the knob of sour cream.

we moved effortlessly into the set lunch proper. there were two choices of starters: a salad of roasted jerusalem artichokes and oranges, and a rabbit and pancetta terrine. so we ordered one of each to share. both were some kind of wonderful, but the terrine was perhaps more wonderful, with its tender chunks of meat interspersed with whole hazelnuts.

at this point we were four courses into our two-course lunch, and although everything was light fantastic, we were starting to feel the tinges of satiety. so we were thankful for the pause in the service before the main courses arrived. but then i checked my watch, and discovered — horrors! — that it was five minutes to two. i wondered how quickly i could eat a plate of food.

i must admit that when i read the menu, i was somewhat underwhelmed by the options for mains: sausages and mash, and fish and chips with mushy peas. good winter grub, sure, but darned our luck that day was sunny and warm. we picked one of each anyway, and were pleased to discover that the two fat sausages were herbed and meaty, and the mash was velvety.

the fish — a generous serve of three fat fingers — was firm and meaty beneath the crunchy crumb, and the chips were a large potato cut into four. i wish i could have eaten much much more of the mushy peas — their verdancy belies the amount of butter i’m sure must have been whipped into them, albeit with a light and skillful hand.

in fact, i wish i could have eaten much more of everything, but the combination of too many appetisers and rather a lot of meat and — crucially — the fact that when i next checked the time it was twenty past two (!) meant that i was suddenly saying goodbye in a great hurry, and slipping out the door, and running up to the main street to hail a cab that would take me through the city and across the bridge (anzac, not harbour) to the school gate to retrieve the kid, phew.

so, um, yeah. i guess my experiment was… not exactly a failure, but i’m kicking myself for missing out on the flourless chocolate fondant with dark chocolate sorbet (i think the other dessert option might have been gruyere and oat biscuits). well fine, i doubt i could have fit it in anyway.