Point Leo Estate. Laura. Five courses from six. Matched wines. Our ten year wedding anniversary was the perfect excuse to pull out all the stops in a very rare lunch splurge. And boy was it worth it!
The kids safe in the hands of a friend’s au pair we borrowed for the day, we activated the car’s bum warmers and escaped the kiddie chaos for a few hours. We soon found our way across the Peninsula and up the lingering driveway of Point Leo Estate.
The approach was actually a little bit daunting, stepping out of the car and being whisked in the winds towards a grand, but imposing entrance. Fleetingly, I was concerned that I was out of my league, perhaps underdressed for the environs, but as we opened the doors a group of excited women in tinsel, festive jumpers and Christmas tree earrings exited setting my mind at ease. All sorts. We were greeted by friendly staff who led us through the masses to the quieter, Laura.
Point Leo overlooks an extensive sculpture garden, home to a whole host of Australian and international pieces. Or so says their website. When it comes to art, I am a total philistine and I pointed out to my husband how much of a distraction from the view all those sculptures were to me. Reds, blues and metals galore against the backdrop of the crashing white waters of Western Port Bay and further towards The Nobbies of Phillip Island. I could appreciate their scale, the craftsmanship of their maker perhaps, but I always struggle to comprehend what they are supposed to capture. I’m too practical for art. My husband suggested I’d be more intrigued by a couple of Highland cattle roaming the grounds than a large squiggle of metal. He is undoubtedly right.
But there we sat, watching the weather roll in and roll out again as clusters of hooded revellers chanced their luck against the elements and attempted a casual stroll through the sculpture garden. Making the most of a dry and sunny moment, they battled the wind, but their hunched shoulders and bent heads soon betrayed their optimism. We were all better off inside. Two minutes later, the raging sea was no longer visible and the clusters dispersed rapidly, fighting new battles with upturned umbrellas and high heels in soggy lawns.
Yes, we were most certainly in the best spot in the house. The winery is expansive, but Laura is somewhat secluded. I could see the hustle and bustle of the main restaurant with its energetic waitstaff zipping from kitchen to table, and hordes of merrymakers, but mostly my outlook was to the bar, to my husband and to the gardens and the sea beyond. It was peaceful. The staff was relaxed, but efficient and the kitchen and other diners faded to background so entranced was I with the dishes presented to me, and of course, this man that I now call my husband of ten years.
It’s a precious little milestone. For the first ten years of marriage really are times of such change. I can’t imagine anything that could alter a life more than the addition of three, glorious children, so I predict the next ten will bring more of the little things, but fewer big life changes. And frankly, I’m ok with that.
The staff too seemed excited about our anniversary, much to my extreme mortification. I’m not a big fan of over-familiar wait staff or surprise candles in desserts, so when the poor waitress uttered the words, ‘what are we celebrating today?’ my face said, ‘you’re not celebrating anything, now shut up and go away.’ Fortunately I was facing my husband, so I didn’t scare anyone with my introverted angry pants tendencies. And actually, it was handled very tastefully when we were presented with two handmade chocolates with ‘happy anniversary’ delicately scribed in chocolate on the plate to accompany a peppermint tea for me and an extra-shot latte for hubby. Nice work. Sorry about the grumps. The staff were really very good- attentive, knowledgeable and appreciative of our eagerness and enthusiasm.
So then we ate and we were not disappointed. When the waitress describes the olive oil accompanying your olive oil brioche as ‘single origin’ you know you’re in a posh joint. Soft, sweet, warm and light bread to whet our appetites for a rather spiffing first course. I had no idea what to expect of a Lion’s Mane mushroom glazed like a chicken wing with abalone. Spongy, but firm mushroom, glazed with notes of sweet terriyaki, then topped with abalone and a very thin disk of golden beetroot exceeded my expectations. However, the whole dish was highlighted particularly by a rich, earthy beetroot sauce (or would it be a jus?) poured at the table, which I mopped up like a peasant with the remainder of my olive oil brioche. It was a fabulous start full of firsts for me. First Lion’s Mane mushroom, first abalone, first saké, which was the choice of the sommelier for the dish’s wine match. Cheeky, but fun and a lovely pairing.
The entrée was a duck egg omelette with greens, bone marrow and a pinot noir sauce. Although a good enough dish in itself, it paled slightly after the knock out kick off and the duck to follow. However, the wine match was a gamay from Beaujolais in France, which excited me as I’d only just read about its existence the week prior, so I felt genuinely knowledgeable, which was a novelty. A nice wee drop too.
The duck had travelled to us from across the heads and round a bit from Geelong. As the duck flies not especially far, but I imagine it hadn’t been a solo mission for said duck and that they opted to either drive too far or pay too much as we do when faced with that particular journey. Anyway, I digress. Perfectly cooked duck breast accompanied by a delicious provincial French style sauce and a neatly tied garnish of herbs and greens from the kitchen garden was the main course. There was also salt-baked carrot enveloping a duck terrine which added a theatrical element to the main course, or maybe a comedy element as the poor waitress struggled to break through the charcoal outer crust using a spoon and a fork with one hand. All this was accompanied by spiced, roasted parsnips with sweet red grapes and roasted kipflers with a hazelnut sauce. They must have known I was coming. I mean really, is it even a meal without a potato? It was a deeply satisfying course. Just perfect. Each element justifying its place on the plate and joining hands to deliver a magnificent result, all washed down rather well with a pinot noir, sourced from Burgundy. Glug glug.
The cheese course knocked my socks off. What quite resembled something I’d missed when cleaning my kitchen a couple weeks ago at first glance turned out to be an utterly fabulous bit of Berry’s Creek blue sitting atop a round of soft, buttery sponge propped up by pear and lentils and finished with Point Leo’s own honey. They might not be re-inventing the wheel with that one, but nor should they. I swear my internal duke box switched rapidly on first bite from some kind of background elevator style music to The Hallelujah Chorus. It was divine. They know how to Handel their cheese. (Sorry.) The Tussie Mussie late harvest pinot gris by Quealy’s was sadly not served to us in a silver goblet, but it certainly added to our communion.
Lastly, dessert. No chocolate or salted caramel to be seen. Instead, following current trends, the dessert dodged the usual sickly sweetness by encasing pumpkin mousse within a perfectly crafted meringue tart shell. There was ginger and candied chestnut and a beautiful savoury ice-cream, the flavour of which I knew I knew, but simply couldn’t place out of context. Was it more chestnut, maybe? Whatever it was I most certainly enjoyed it. The final wine match was in the form of a Muscadelle from Rutherglen. Seemed to work. What would I know? I smiled and nodded vacantly as the waitress exuberantly detailed the origins, year and notes of something or other. It was the fifth course, I was ready to pop my top button and nip off for a snooze, but I managed to maintain my decorum at least until I got back to the car.
We didn’t need dinner that day, but whatever I came up with for the kids was somewhat less memorable. And after the suave and perfectly executed order of the day, we were grateful that our parenting that night required only a quick tea, a bit of telly and bed. It’s so hard to switch back on to Mum and Dad mode after daytime footloose frolics.
What a day! What a date! What a celebration of our wedding anniversary! The man sets a high standard. Good luck trumping that every year, but do keep trying.
Or we could just go back to Laura?
mrsmixalot 