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My Perfect Customer

We get all sorts of people coming in to Morks: there’s the casual take away guy, or the fancy special occasion diner person, or that Tony Robinson fellow, but I’m going to talk about my idea of a perfect customer.

Firstly, my perfect customer would order everything on the menu, lick the plate clean, and leave a hefty tip – so big in fact that I would require a small team of strong men to transport the tip to the till.

But seriously…

My perfect customer would be someone who smiles as they walk in, happy to share a joke or swap a story or even just sit and enjoy what we have to offer. This is when the boundaries between customer and waiter become a little bit blurred. Sure, I’m there to make sure you’re having a wonderful night, but it’s best when the customer reciprocates that energy and makes sure that I can enjoy myself too.

That’s what makes it so nice and easy to work at Morks, because we get so many positive and friendly people through the door. It really does make the night all worthwhile.

I’m sure everybody can empathise with me when I say that sometimes we can get a shocker of a day, and the thought of working through the night can be a little unappealing. Then I actually get to the restaurant and the people start coming in, eager to sit down and order something nice and working the rest of the night doesn’t seem so bad.

Ikmal

My First True Love

Food: it’s an essential for life, and such a basic need that it seems odd to romanticise it, but—and I’m sure all foodies would agree—there’s something more to food than just nutrition. The smell, presentation, texture, and combination of flavours brought together in a great dish is enough to make anyone fall in love.

It’s hard for me to pinpoint exactly when my love affair started, but as anyone who knows me would attest, I am smitten. It probably began with my mum’s pies, casseroles, and lasagna that I devoured daily as a kid. This matured into a respect for different foods and their cultural origins when I began to travel. Whether it’s sushi in Japan or street food in Thailand or pub grub in London, I usually dedicate a significant amount of time (and money) while travelling to discover new and delicious foods.

Working in a kitchen like Morks has given me the opportunity to be around people who feel the same and are willing to share their experiences and knowledge with me so I can continue to nurture my love—grow into a shameless foodie!

Nathan

#Morks #Contemporary Thai #Food #Food Blog #Canberra #Dining #Love Food #Foodies

Street Food is the Best

I grew up on the street food of Indonesia. Just like the comfort food of my last blog post, street food gives me immeasurable pleasure. Imagine yourself sitting at a stall on the side of the road, cars whizzing past so close you could reach out your hand and touch them (but risk losing your hand if you gave into this urge). You’re grateful for the breeze they kick up as they go past because it’s so hot, from the sun as well as the stove radiating heat non-stop. The aroma of spices and cooking meat make your mouth water and you don’t care that the final product is just slapped on a plastic plate like a lunchlady at a cafeteria served it up.

Brings back memories, doesn’t it?

While I wouldn’t turn down a booking at Blumenthals’ The Fat Duck or Redzepi’s Noma, I would turn down restaurant food in general if I got to eat street food instead.

It’s not about whether the food tastes better or about how much cheaper street food is—it’s the atmosphere. It’s the drunken laughter of other people looking for a tasty meal at three in the morning. It’s the rush at lunch, when the cook’s hands are a blur. It’s the smell that assaults you before you even sit down. I’ve never been to any restaurant that can capture the feeling of sitting on a plastic stool in sweltering heat but actually enjoying it.

That’s not to say that anywhere in Australia should try and emulate this style of eating. Apart from the health department shutting it down within a week, we have our own conventions, which I enjoy as well. Still, whenever I book my ticket for Thailand or Indonesia or anywhere that has street food, I feel my mouth watering in anticipation of what I’ll get to try next, and just how close those cars are whizzing past me.

Listya

Becoming One with the Knife

I was crying over the sink. Blood droplets made a "ting, ting, ting" sound as it hit the stainless steel. The onions I'd been finely cutting made my eyes water, and I couldn't distinguish between finger and vegetable, so I'd sliced open my finger. When I lifted the paper towel I'd used as a compress, the exposed bone glared at me through a fleshy flap. Everyone was laughing and my 14-year-old face went as red as the tissue. You might think that the kitchen at Sukothai Restaurant in Yarralumla was full of douchebags for laughing at a young kid almost cutting his finger off. You'd be right. I realised that I'd have to use more than my sight to navigate my knife around ingredients. From that moment, I began my quest to be one with my knife. The technique was actually simple: keep the side of the knife touching the hand holding the ingredient while I sliced with the other hand. It was the execution that I stumbled over; the confidence to trust in my feel, instead of my eyes. I wouldn't look away for long at first, not having the confidence to rely on previously unused senses. I found that the less I thought about it, though, the faster I could cut that way. I now realise that I already had the motor skills to master knife feel. When I used my eyes, I was used to cutting like that, it was just my lack of confidence that was holding me back from doing it sightlessly.

Mastering the knife was a triumph in the kitchen but, more importantly, it was the lesson in confidence at a time when confidence is hard to find: teenage hood.

Mork

Keeping it in the family

It was March 2011. I had just started my undergraduate at the ANU and I needed to get a job. I knew Benn from high school and that his family owned a restaurant named after his older brother, Mork. Back in high school, whenever Benn came around to my house, he’d bring some choice food from Sukothai – their family’s then-restaurant in Yarralumla. When he offered to hire me as a waiter for Morks a few years later, I thought it would be along the same lines.

Oh, how wrong I was.

The dishes I had to bring out to tables were so delicately designed, stacked and arranged, it was a bit of a nightmare. Until I learnt how each of the dishes looked, it wasn’t particularly obvious which dish was which. Even though the learning curve was steep, the team had my back and helped me out. The only other job I’d ever had was part of a big company, where the support system was less organic. At Morks, they treated me like one of the family, because that’s the kind of people they are: very welcoming and accepting – and I feel like it shows in our service.

It makes it easier to share a warm atmosphere with our customers when we foster it amongst one another. We'll treat you like old friends, we're happy to have a chat and pour you another glass.

So come in, sit down and BYO! (‘cause we’re not licensed!)

Ikmal

A Vegetarian, a Chef and Dirty Dishes

As the title suggests this post is about a vegetarian working at Morks Restaurant and my experience with Mork and the rest of the staff. The food figures into the picture because it has changed my outlook immensely, though not my eating habits.

I started working for Morks a while back (unable to recall the time) and I was hired as a dishwasher. I started to interact with the crew and we formed a close bond as friends and professionals working in a kitchen. I don't count myself anywhere near as qualified as Mork or Adul in term of food (because I have not tasted any of the dishes with meat!). Be that as it may, Mork has shown me quite a few things about food and its preparation over the years, which has led me to appreciate the finer aspects of Thai cuisine and cooking in general.

Before Morks I was like any normal person who cooked to keep himself alive and functioning so that he can see the next day in reasonable good health. Because of my various conversations with Mork I have come to try many of the little tips and tricks that he uses in his dishes in my own kitchen. I used some of his ideas and ingredients replacing the ones not to my liking with others which would taste just as good. It is challenging in a predominantly meat eating culture.

Some of the suggestions that Mork made about food have led to some very fine dishes being cooked for my own personal pleasure. Another thing that occurred was my introduction to a whole variety of vegetables and ways of cooking them that I had been completely ignorant about.

As anyone who works at Morks will tell you, after work is where we have some of the most interesting and informative discussions (that I have ever had the pleasure of partaking in) on the most random topics. We have been known to discuss culture, theology, morality even some deep personal issues that we have struggled with. In Morks I have found a gathering of likeminded and intellectually aware individuals. By the way, these conversations normally occur while I am doing the dishes.

Thank you for reading,

Obaid

Tales of a Dish Pig

For its 100th birthday Canberra treated us all to a day of good food, good music and some interesting insights into this city’s history. I had planned to spend the day walking/riding around Canberra until Mork told me a few awesome local restaurants were asked to set up shop for the day around beautiful Lake Burley Griffin – and we were invited! Over the weeks leading up to our marquee, Mork would work his magic to create some dishes that were appropriate for the occasion. Luckily for me and the rest of The Morks Team, we were used as the official taste testers. I’m sure those that came on the day will agree that the three dishes all turned out well – especially The Mussuman Burger which was my personal favourite.

We started the day early and right away I was blown away by the amount of stock we had. I told Mork and Benn that there was no way we would sell all that food, and they agreed however assured me that it would be better to have too much than sell out too early. We all quickly reconsidered when lunchtime hit and we saw the line out the front. I thought it would disperse after the lunchtime rush, however 2 o’clock came and the line wasn't budging despite the teams best efforts to get though everyone. By 3, we had sold out of all our burgers and pork belly – 3 weeks worth of stock in 3 hours! We temporarily closed while the management team consulted (read: lost their shit) about what to do. This was much to my relief as I forgot my hay fever medicine, which made the three hours of busy service that much harder! After talking to the other food stalls, we quickly realised everyone was in the same boat and we all underestimated Canberra’s love of good food.

For a couple of hours we were only able to serve one of our three dishes (lamb cutlets) while Mork's dad hurried to prepare more food for you guys. When he returned, so did the line, and we had another couple of hours of crazy service before all that was gone as well. We were done around dinner time and before going back to the restaurant to wash up Su and Adul generously presented the team with a few bottles of well earned bubbly and chocolates. After a couple celebratory glasses (except for Mork who was voted designated driver) the washing up process seemed to finish in no time.

Afterwards, Benn and I rode back from the restaurant and arrived back at the lake just in time to see the sky lit up by the wonderful fireworks display. After getting back home I reflected on how good the day was and how much I love Canberra and its people for making it such a successful event.

Thanks everyone!

Nathan (the white guy in the kitchen)

Respect the Meal and Remember it

The avid Morks fans out there will know that we were away for pretty much the entire month of January. While away, The Morks Team was busy pigging out in Thailand, India, Macau, Hong Kong, Malaysia and Queensland. That’s what the festive season is about, isn’t it? Needless to say, we all gained about 5kgs each. When we all got together during our first shift back, our work shirts had gotten tighter and the aprons had become narrower. Without a doubt it was worth it; the happiness that good food brings you isn’t short-term satisfaction, it’s memories that will last you the rest of your life. It isn’t just about the food, is it? The company, the atmosphere, and the occasion all come together to create that memory. Mork asked me what my favourite meal in Thailand was, and my answer was the home-cooked Eesarn BBQ, which we shared with my extended family celebrating our rare reunion.

After having a ‘biggest belly’ competition, we decided to see who could lose the most body fat percentage in 3 months. The competitors are: Mork, Nathan, Listya, Ikmal and myself. The prize? Winner gets dinner paid for at the restaurant of their choice. I am obviously going to win, and at the moment I’m tossing up between Smoque, Ruby’s or Italian & Sons.

We’re one month in, and I have never wanted to dive into a bowl of pasta, or burger, or pizza more in my life. Not that healthy food tastes bad, because it doesn’t. But how delicious does a steak sandwich with the lot, fries with chicken salt and a caramel thick shake sound? Whereas before the dieting competition, I would have ate that meal without any real appreciation. As lame and boring as dieting has been, it has made me appreciate how truly special a delicious meal is; the least I can do to respect it is to remember it. A meal should never be taken for granted.

Benn

Comfort Zones

There’re a lot of things I’m willing to try just once but for a long time food wasn’t one of them. I liked a very small list of meat, herbs and vegetables, preferably cooked by either mum or dad (who knew exactly what I didn’t like) or a chef who understood the lowest common denominator of tastiness. Things like rabbit and duck were too cute to eat. Herbs like coriander and mint were too strong. Vegetables like Brussels sprout… actually, I still hate Brussels sprout.

Now, some of my favourite things to eat are things that my pre-21-year-old self would have melodramatically gagged at. Now, I jump at the chance to try something new, just in case it tastes amazing. Now, my parents don’t lament over how they could have brought up a well-travelled child who was a culinary philistine. In theory, I always knew that stepping out of your comfort zone could bring some life-changing experiences, but it wasn’t until I met Mork that I decided to suck up my illogical distaste for anything that wasn’t “normal”.

There have been things I tried that I hated and immediately wanted to run to the bathroom so I could purge them from my belly (i.e. some incredibly sour little berries that were supposed to complement a spicy curry). For the most part, though, I’ve enjoyed most new things that I’ve tried. On our most recent trip to Thailand, I discovered my new favourite dish: Yum Saam Krob (Three Crunch Salad). Spring onion, red onion and coriander mixed with cashew nut, crispy fried anchovies and – wait for it – dried and fried fish intestine. Five years ago I would have run screaming at the last ingredient.

Maybe it was just luck of the draw; many new things I tried were in great restaurants or were home-cooked. Or maybe I just have a much more forgiving palate than I ever gave myself credit for. In the end, despite the few things that did make me gag, stepping out of my comfort zone magnified my enjoyment of life and I can’t wait to try the next new thing to come across my plate… or bowl or stick or banana leaf.

Listya

A Chef's Curiosity

Nothing tastes better than a fish you caught yourself. That's why I felt so awesome last weekend when I was looking down at a fish I caught with my bare hands. Well, actually, my friend caught it. And it wasn't some tasty large rainbow trout - it was a Two-Spined Blackfish (Gadopsis Bispinoses), one of the most endangered species in NSW. This was no recreational fishing trip with beers and snags. This was a scientific expedition traversing the wild Cotter River in search of these elusive fish. My friend, a biologist, asked me to come along and help.

We caught and released three Blackfish that day and all that science made me hungry. I automatically thought how this fish would go well with some chilli jam; how the small bones would be nice and crispy if you fried it whole, after marinating it with some fresh turmeric; how good it would taste if you dried the fillets in the sun and pounded them up with some shrimp paste, chilli, garlic, coriander and roasted tomatoes; how delicate the flesh would be if you wrapped it in pandan leaves with lemongrass and steamed it; how well it would smoke; how its guts would taste in a curry; how the fact that it is an endangered species would make it taste even better.

When I thought about it later, I realised my friend and I had the same motivation in our lives: Curiosity. In this case, we both wanted to know more about the Two-Spined Blackfish. He wanted data about its breeding habits, population size and how this species could potentially thrive; I wanted to know the tastiest way it could provide nutrients and sustenance.

Curiosity is the driving force for a lot of professions. For a chef, the curiosity is about different tastes. What is the pure taste of something? How does that taste change when you add different things? Does that pure taste change depending on how you cook it even without adding anything? How can I create a dish with this that will make a person's tastebuds dance? Even when I'm doing something as non-chef-like as catching and releasing endangered fish, my brain continues to ask these questions.

In the end, I didn't eat any Blackfish but I hope my friends research contributes positively to the fish's population so perhaps, one day, I can satisfy my curiosity.

What curiosity compels you?

Mork

Welcome to The Morks Blog!

This is the medium that we want to use to express our views, thoughts, opinions, ideas and just the crazy things that run through our heads in general. As a lot of you probably don't know, the restaurant is owned by Adul and Sunida Ratanakosol, along side their sons, Mork and Benn (me). We've been in hospitality for a while now; for my brother and I, our entire lives.

My dad opened Sukothai Restaurant (Yarralumla Shops) in 1990, and sold it in 2008. When he first opened it, traditional Thai cuisine was the ducks nuts; there were only a handful of Thai restaurants open in Canberra. The foodies were raving about the exciting combination of flavours and the explosive spices more than organic Arabian coffee beans from the Congo had ever heard. Naturally, Thai people who knew how to cook got excited. Thai chefs started quitting, opening their own Thai restaurant with highly original and unpredictable names. What about we take the name of the country... and put a condiment at the end of it?! Write that down! If they're really fancy, they'll just use the condiment. The trend of chefs jumping ship is common. Over 18 years of running Sukothai, my dad saw 8 of his chefs become restaurant owners. We all get along, catch up and have fun. He himself was one of these chefs. But the point is, Thai restaurants were popping up like McDonald's. Thai Cuisine, as wonderful as it is, was losing its magic.

My dad realised this. He realised this in 2000. I'm sure a lot of Thai chefs did. But who cares? We're making money; we've got a regular clientele; my wife and kids are happy; and damn, I make the best Mussamun Beef in all of Canberra and surrounds, bitch! So it went on. We kept doing what we do, not really being that special. To ourselves, of course we made the best Thai food in Canberra. Of course the other Thai Restaurants were selling out to the masses, while we were keeping it real. Of course every other Thai restaurant was thinking exactly the same thing, that's business*. When we sold Sukothai in 2008, my dad had plans to retire. That's it, I've got my Johnnie Walker, my Foxtel and my kitchen. Then, he got bored.

We're going back in time into the future. We want to bring back the excitement, the curiosity and the wonder that Thai food used to bring you and your parents. It's no longer about creating a menu with 80 items, all available with your choice of chicken, beef, pork, lamb, prawn or tofu. Fuck that! Why can't a Thai meal be as special as a French meal? Why reserve Thai for those cheap and cheerful Wednesday nights, when you don't feel like Chinese or Malaysian or Chinese-Malaysian? These questions drove us to create Morks - the first Contemporary Thai restaurant in Canberra. If you haven't, come try the new paradigm in Thai cuisine. Find out what it was like 20 years ago, when people were just discovering this fantastic cuisine. Find out what it's like when a Thai chef pours passion into a meal, rather than scooping sauce out of a bucket and adding whatever meat the slip says. Rarely do my brother and I agree on something, but we both know we're just getting started. This is the beginning, and this is your chance to be apart of the beginning.

Before I wrap it up, let me quickly talk about how this blog will work. Mork and I will not be the only writers. We're also going to get our chefs, kitchen hands, waiters and waitresses to join in. The Morks Blog is your backstage pass to what goes on behind the scenes: the good, the bad, the ugly. Sometimes, we might write things that could offend. They could come in the form of swear words or views and opinions. Everyone is different, if you're offended, we apologise. But this blog is not for you. It is for enthusiastic foodies. Welcome aboard!

Cheers,

Benn

*For the record, Sukothai Restaurant between the years of 1990 - 2008 was the best, most fantastically, magically delicious place anyone ever could have gone for a Thai meal outside Bangkok.

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