Kelly’s Bar and Grill is a South African-style restaurant located on level 6 of Bondi Junction Westfield. Now, don’t be put off by Kelly’s location, as this spot had city views! Level 6 of Westfield Bondi Junction is a foodies dream – some of the best spots including Bondi Pizza, San Churro and New Shanghai all in the one location, overlooking Sydney’s city and Bondi.
The spanish fly is a tapas bar that I had been dying to try out for a few months. A few of my friends had raved about how beautiful the food was, so when I tried it out, I saw what all the fuss was about! From the Sangria to the octopus, to the mushroom-filled Tortellini, the food reminded me of the many Tapas bars I visited whilst in Barcelona a year ago. I would definitely recommend trying this place out!
Who would have thought that a place in Lane Cove would serve Buffalo Mozzarella made in Naples and flown to Australia within the week it was made!! Sometimes I am convinced that in order to experience true Italian food, I have to be in Italy – but apparently not! Via Napoli has to be one of the most authentic Italian places in sydney! As soon as that ball of cheese was sliced down the middle, buffalo milk rushed out and my eyes seemed to pull themselves away from the direction of the provincial wood fired ovens and straight onto the soft, velvety cheese. I felt the same rush of energy that I had felt in Italy, an energy that forced an enthusiasm for the dishes that were to come.
Nothing says Arabic food like Arabic bread. A meal is never ever complete without it! But unlike the arabic bread that we find in Sydney that is flat and soft, the bread that I found in Jerusalem was thick and rough, burnished over an open flame. As a kid I remember emergency calls from my Teta to my Mum, begging her to pick up 10 bags of arabic bread on our way to Teta’s house. Bread in my grandparents household was some what a security blanket. It was something that took my grandparents back to when they were young and living in Palestine. It made them remember coming home to steaming hot bread, fresh out of their mothers wood-fired ovens that immediately satisfied.
Growing up in Sydney, a trip to Granville with my Teta and Mum was a fortnightly must. It always fascinated me that I could experience the Arab world in a suburb only half an hour from my house. After hours of being lugged around Arabic grocery stores and the ‘quick’ trip to the Arab butcher, I was always promised a hot Mana’ish (or Zatar bread) at the end of it all. The sour oregano mixture on top of hot puffed flat bread never failed to re-ignite my happy childish self after a long day of grocery shopping. So when I came across Mana’ish on a long narrow street of the old city of Jerusalem, memories of my childhood trips to Granville returned and an instant feeling of warmth came over my winter-struck body.