After watching our beloved Saints get whipped by Essendon last night, Tyson and I decided to drown our sorrows with dinner and cider. The Terminus Hotel is on our tram line and we had heard the food was good so we stopped in.
When we first hopped off the tram we looked over and thought it might be closed. The building wasn’t brightly lit or conspicuous, but there were a few bikes out the front and some tables and chairs, so we headed in.
The menu was fairly simple, but we had a heck of a time deciding what to order. Did I want steak? Yes. I always want steak. But a big one all to myself? Maybe not. I liked that there was the option of choosing grain-fed or pastured (grass-fed) meat. I would go for the grass-fed beef any day. Cows eat grass. Birds eat grain. Cows are not birds, therefore, they shouldn’t eat grain. Right?
So, as a compromise, Tyson and I shared the hanger steak with beetroot mousse and celeriac purée and the soft tacos with chipotle pulled pork. And some french fries, but there isn’t really much to say about that.
I’ve read lots of recipes that involve hanger steak, but I have never cooked or eaten it before. When it came out I was surprised at how rare it was cooked (but not upset!). Tyson jumped on the Google machine and found out that hanger needs to be cooked rare to medium rare or it will be tough. He also discovered that hanger steak is derived from the diaphragm of the beast. Mmm!
Moo! Image via The Nibble
Anyway, meat trivia aside, the hanger steak was delicious. Chargrilled, smoky and flavourful, and accompanied beautifully by the beetroot and celeriac. It was quite a simple dish, but I thought it was classy and delicious.
We ate a lot of tacos on our USA road trip last year, and since we have been back home in Australia, the tacos here just haven’t lived up to our standards. However, the pork tacos were generous, well seasoned and included a killer apple slaw that balanced the flavours perfectly.
We left the Terminus with full bellies and a cidery glow, the loss of the game from earlier in the evening a distant memory. After all, there’s always next week.
In case you were wondering, barracking for St Kilda mostly feels like this …