Two Chaps
Cafe by day and hand-made pasta by night, this is the modus operandi of Two Chaps in Marrickville. Oh and did I mention it is all vegetarian? Whilst punters can get their inventive, murder-free brunches during the day, dinner becomes a more exclusive affair where a prix fixe menu that centres around pasta is offered only on Friday and Saturday nights for one sitting only. Way to create some hype!
And there is much to hype-on about. I had waited a long time to squeeze in my visit to Two Chaps before departing from Sydney and it was worth the wait. The chaps behind Two Chaps are really not a greedy bunch, you can tell. They’re passionate about putting out great food, and they’re not asking much for it. Their set menu will set you back $70 pp and is probably one of the better value meals of that calibre in Sydney.
They change the menu every few weeks to keep things seasonal (and to hold your attention). On the night we visited, we started off with freshly baked focaccia, seasonal pickle and fried ravioli with mozzarella and pesto, as well as a generous bowl of labneh with burnt butter, almonds and Gordal olives. The first half of the starters was an eclectic plate of bits and pieces that appealed to my easily distractible palate. There was more burnt butter and labneh than there was bread but the pairing was fantastic. We clung onto our bowl of burnt butter dredges in order to drag anything else that came along later through it as I haven’t quite sunk to the level of slurping butter off a spoon. Yet. We could see a lone chef furiously busting out plate after plate by himself and I felt a little bit sorry for him. The side-effect of needing to put out so many plates simultaneously is the fried ravioli had gotten a little cold by the time it arrived.
No matter, next up was a tart tomato galette with pickled onion and pyengana cheddar. The chaps at Two Chaps have a brilliant sense of umami that comes through in their cooking and they layer the umami well. I particularly liked the generous addition of chervil atop the galette which added a nice little aniseed flavour.
The next handmade pasta to arrive was a voluptuous sweet corn filled ravioli with mandarin kosho and soya sauce. The pasta was so tender and the filling reminiscent of richly creamed corn; the thin soya sauce and mandarin kosho dressing was certainly inventive but was wanting in stickability so it wasn’t able to cling to the ravioli particularly well. It was accompanied by a refreshing bowl of cucumber seasoned with kombu (see what I mean about the umami?) and togarashi.
The two absolute highlights of dinner arrived towards the end of the menu when my dining partner and I were beginning to feel a little full. A dish I will never forget is the macaroni with spiced confit tomato and pan grattato. Two words for you: umami bomb. Never have I had such an intensely umami dish as this, let alone a pasta. The tomatoes had been simmered with spices including fenugreek, mustard seeds and curry leaf creating an heady flavour base to make the most luscious, tastiest macaroni and cheese on this planet. And it was topped off with rich, crispy, spice infused crumbs. Although I haven’t a photo to demonstrate the scale of the dish, believe me when I say the serving was huge. A large spoonful at that point of dinner was enough and every table needed a takeaway container to take this magical pasta home with them. This course was served with a generous bowl of rocket, pear and parmesan dressed simply in balsamic, not that we could eat much more by this point.
Luckily the anatomically separate dessert stomach kicked in, as dessert consisted of not one but two courses, an ice cream sandwich doused in cherry syrup and an incredible Bombe Alaska. Remember how there was only one chef running the kitchen all evening? Hats off to him, tackling a notoriously difficult dessert with such pizzazz. House made ice cream wore a roasted peach half and perfectly torched, fluffy meringue hat. But wait, there’s more! It was showered in sherbetty, freeze-dried raspberry powder and an aromatic green basil oil. The bombe Alaska was a small work of art, both visually and in my mouth. There was such a contrast of textures and temperatures and I loved the sharp accents from the roasted peach and raspberry powder and the mellowing basil oil. Two Chaps certainly saved their best for last.
You’re probably hoping you too will get to try these dishes, but chances are the menu has changed already. And therein lies the beauty of Two Chaps: pasta nights will always be full of surprises and an exploration for your tastebuds. I urge you to get yourself a table, if you can.
Two Chaps
122 Chapel St
Marrickville
Sydney, NSW 2204
Ph. +61 2 9572 8858