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Even before Richard Cornish enters the hatted restaurant where he's made a booking under a false name, he's scoping out its quality.
If there's so much as a few leaves or cigarette butts near the front door, he'll clock them.
Cornish, a well-respected Australian food reviewer and journalist, has deducted points from a restaurant for the weeds near its entrance.
"If the front door is not being looked after, you know that the place isn't being looked after," he tells RN's Life Matters.
He knows reviewers can make or break a restaurant, and he takes that power seriously.
"We are the eyes and ears and the noses and the tongues of the readers, and so we have to give a fair and accurate report — like any sort of journalism — without fear or favour."
It's not just about the food
Food reviewing is, in some ways, not dissimilar to a stakeout.
You dress, says Cornish, in a way that "doesn't draw attention".
You conceal your weapon — in this case, a notebook.
"We keep them very, very subtle," he says.
Thanks to Instagram, even when he pulls out his phone to capture his meals — for reference later — he's not distinguishing himself from any other diner.
To complete his mission, Cornish must examine more than just what's eaten.
He'll note: "polished concrete floor, leather chairs, bare wooden tables ... good napery, wine glasses of a decent standard".
A room's "soft furnishings" or "pendulous copper light fittings that give an air of intimacy" will rate a mention.
So too, if staff are greeting customers by name — if it's "a locals' place".
"I've got to give an idea to the reader, who are the clientele? Are they all wealthy businessmen? Are they foreign tourists? Are they locals who give a friendly ambience?" he says.
"You don't want to be dining out outside of your tribe — or you might want to try something new, so that's what part of the review is about.
"But really, we're just trying to give people in 160 words a really good taste of what they're about to eat, drink and enjoy."
'All I can do is report the facts'
At this particular outer-suburban Melbourne eatery, Cornish feels quite comfortable.
But that's personal.
"All I can do is report the facts," he says. Finally, they pertain to the food.
The menu is "quite intellectual", with a lot of game. On offer is kangaroo, venison and rabbit.
Prices are "OK, for what they're offering", he says.
Cornish knows this place — it's been a successful business for six years now. And in times past, its staff would have known him, too.
"If you go to the kitchen, on the interior side, on the doorway there will be photographs of reviewers," he says.
"I haven't reviewed for a couple of years now, so I won't be one of them. But there will be well-known names up there and well-known faces."
Restaurants know the influence they're courting when a food critic is in the house.
Cornish orders wine — not too much, there's a strict budget — and besides, "You have to keep your senses about you".
It's served with a coravin, "a device that's inserted into the bottle and pumps the wine bottle full of argon, which is a completely inert gas, and it stops the wine from oxidising," Cornish explains.
That means wine can be served by the glass and still be kept "fresh as a daisy", he says.
"I'm really impressed," he adds.
Warm Kakadu plums, stored in oil and warmed in the oven, land on the table.
They're "quite amazing", he says, "chewy, mucilaginous", with an unexpected "nice, dark flavour".
Spanner crab arrives soon after, accompanied by fermented grains and crocodile tea — a broth made from saltwater crocodile bones.
Cornish says he came to this restaurant wanting to see if it's "maintaining the mantle" of previous high-rating reviews. By the night's end, that's looking promising.
When it comes to determining a rating, he'll follow a "strict formula" — a certain number of points to deliver to food, service, ambience and "the X factor" — that ensures every restaurant is judged in the same way.
On this occasion, when the review makes it to print, he thinks it'll be more of a 'make' than a 'break' for the restaurant.
"I think they'll be happy and the reader will be happy," he says.
It's time for Cornish to hang up his notebook for now, until his next culinary calling, and he slips out the door into the night.
Topics: food-and-beverage, food-and-cooking, journalism, hospitality, human-interest, australia, vic, melbourne-3000
First posted