Although the nation’s capital may be seen as a bit of a sleepy hollow (with a few headless horsemen galloping around, the victims of the latest political war) one corner of the city is certainly anything but sleepy. It’s Friday night, 9pm and the otherwise sedate Elouia Pl has one little hot box of happening, happening: 86. Having opened in May, 86 has been painting the town fed, with its modern Australian menu, fabulous cocktails and big-personalitied staff.
Cocktails are a must. The exact titles and ingredients elude me now, but the bar staff certainly know what they are doing and it’s nice to see unsung heroes of the liquor world get some light: aperol, you are a dark horse.
To start, we order the Scallops with Blood Pudding. It should be called the Blood Pudding with Scallops. I have never had blood pudding before. No, I am not afraid of it, but it just hasn’t really surfaced in my two years since leaving behind my vegetarianism. It was amazing. It was rich and spicy and… bloody. It is not house-made, so kudos really goes to the charcutier (Rodriguez Bros). I like the boldness of pairing something as delicate as a scallop (sadly they were dry) with the robusticity of black pudding. Yowza.
Ghetto Beef with Salsa Verde and Lemon ($29), apart from having an awesome name, is a hearty dish of rare chunks of sirloin, uplifted by the freshness of citrus and herbs.
The dish of the night, certainly goes to the Black Chicken with Buttermilk Slaw ($36). The chicken is cooked via sous-vide (vacuum sealed in a bag and then gently cooked in a water bath) so it retains all of its delicious juices and then charred under the grill. It is utterly succulent. I could slurp down those strips of blackened skin anytime. In fact, as I write this, my heart is beating a little faster just remembering how damn good it was. The slaw is not your average slaw, having been given new life with the added punch of capers. Yes. Capers.
Dessert is a beautiful sight to behold; a conglomeration of popcorn, peanut brittle, ice-cream and salted caramel, which Mr Political Reporter finds absolutely knee-bucklingly good. The old sweet-salty game is being played to perfection here.
With the staff being uber friendly and the space being cramped and noisy, Eightysix is not the place to go if you’re the type of diner that likes to be left alone. If you are after a frenzied, fun night with good food, good wine, and extended yarns with the staff, Eightysix it, fo shizzle.
