Baba’s Place

11 December 2021, 6.15pm

Baba’s Place is what one might describe as an adventure – an adventure for the palette, an adventure for the senses, and certainly an adventure for our Uber driver, who got dreadfully lost among the Marrickville back streets trying to find it. After soaking up the first (real) day of Sydney summer at some breweries nearby, we (eventually) rolled up at Baba’s Place for our 6.15pm reservation. 

The building is not at all unlike those surrounding it – square, brown brick, graffiti stained. Oh wait, that’s not graffiti – that’s the restaurant name, cleverly plastered onto the wall in messy red text as if it was. In fact, if it wasn’t for the prospering herb garden outside, we might have missed it altogether.

Sensory overload was all we could think as we entered (under a metal roller door, of course). The huge space smelled strongly of bouillabaisse and incense (that seems strange, but it was actually very welcoming). The music was an eclectic mix of anything and everything (we heard Bollywood, mostly). The haphazard tableware and random art collection reminded us of an inner city share house. The Persian rugs and family photos reminded us of our childhood homes. The doilies and plastic-covered tablecloths, naturally, reminded us of our grandmas. In a restaurant that refuses to limit itself to any one cuisine, the Peter Drew AUSSIE posters particularly resonated.

The waitstaff adopted a suitably laissez faire approach, extremely friendly but with no qualms telling us not to use the menu as a coaster (we loved it). The exposed kitchen seemed like chaos (no doubt of the organised kind). One minute a few sneaky prawns spill onto the floor as a chef briskly hoists them from the deep fryer, the next, a different chef subjects a pumpkin to the loud blue flame of a blowtorch. Simultaneously, right in front of you, noodles are flung into bowls and drenched in piping hot sauce straight from the stove. 

There is this invigorating sense that no matter what you order, “you’ll get what you’re given”. We’d never been anywhere like it, and couldn’t wipe the smiles off our faces.

To start, we had the House labne with garlic chive oil & Afghan bread. Labne (strained yoghurt) has become a popular item on Sydney brunch menus, so you’ve no doubt had it before – but never like this. It was exceptionally silky in texture, as if it had arrived on the plate via piping bag, and rather than its usual tartness, had a fresh dairy taste that paired incredibly well with the light and herbaceous chive oil. The traditionally soft Afghan bread had been deep fried to crisp perfection, providing the salty, oily vehicle ideal for its creamy and smooth passenger.

This was shortly joined by School prawns with fermented garlic & chilli aioli. Move over fries – these tiny fried prawns made a moreish accompaniment to our thirst-quenching Almaza beer (from Lebanon) and “Golden Sour” cocktail (comprising rakija – a fruit brandy originating in the Balkans, champagne balsamic and salted honeydew). They tasted super prawny, and the crackle and crunch from eating them whole, shell included, was fun. The smoky sweet paprika aioli was unsurprisingly awesome, but we needed more as the prawns were a little dry without it.

We moved onto mains with the already famous Bouillabaisse Bolognese, being Shanghai noodles with prawn/bacon (XO), lamb ragu, smoked koji & cucumber/shallots. Yes, this was absolutely, out-of-control delicious – but more than that, it was a completely unique dish unlike anything we’ve tasted before, which doesn’t happen often and we’re in our element when it does.

The ragu was rich, with an intense lamb flavour and unctuous texture. Then, out of nowhere, came an equally intense seafood flavour and morsels of fleshy prawn. On top of that was a warm spice, as if from curry powder. Finally, the cucumber cubes came in to cut through that extreme depth of flavour with their cool freshness. We can’t even begin to imagine what’s in this sauce, but whatever it is, it’s trade secret worthy. The noodles were kept al dente, an expert decision offering balance alongside the velvety ragu.

If you need more convincing as to how tasty this dish was, look to our photos – the final flourish of a suspiciously MSG-looking powder over the sliced shallot, and empty plate splattered with shiny bright orange oil may do the trick.

Our second main was the Roast chicken with celeriac toum, fermented garlic caramel & jus. The chicken skin was pure crispy joy, but the flesh could have been juicier. The celeriac puree was a clever take on traditional Lebnanese garlic sauce, offering an interesting nuttiness without compromising that almost numbing garlicky hit we know and love in toum. The jus had an unadulterated poultry flavour, but also a syrupy sweetness from the caramel and hint of herb from the marjoram. Texturally, it gained extra viscosity from the addition of pig’s trotters (as advised by one of the chefs).

It was a beautifully flavoursome dish, although we felt it tipped a touch on the too rich side without something sufficiently verdant to counteract. That being said, we didn’t help things by choosing an equally as decadent vegetable order, the Smoked pumpkin brûlée with harissa. 

We weren’t sure what to expect of a pumpkin brûlée, but in the end it was exactly as described – a round of baked pumpkin with a brittle sugared topping (that explains the guy with the blowtorch earlier…). It was as yum as it was inventive. The pumpkin flesh was soft and fluffy and its natural sweetness paired gorgeously with the dish’s fierce smokiness, amplified by the harissa sauce. The caramelised sugar topping was toothsome and playful, while the fresh parsley introduced a clean pepperiness.

To end, we had the Mapo coconut sorbet with pineapple & marjoram and the Labne parfait with whey caramel & tahini. We must admit we thought dessert was overpriced, but we still enjoyed it.

The coconut sorbet (which we assume comes from Mapo Gelato in Newtown) was simple and divine, and on the creamier side making it a lovely pair with the fruity pineapple foam surrounding it. Balance came in the form of floral marjoram, judiciously scattered overtop.

The parfait was very interesting – quite savoury for a dessert, but in that indulgent salted caramel way. We felt its texture was a little too icy, but the flavour combo was a winner – bringing together tart yoghurt, earthy tahini and sweet caramel. We also appreciated its sustainability-conscious origins, using excess labne and whey from the starter dish.

Before leaving, we had a foodie-to-foodie chat with one of the chefs about the meal and the industry, breaking down each dish and swapping tips on some of our favourite spots right now. That kind of thing – a willingness to engage with excited customers – really makes a restaurant for us.

Lasting impressions, you ask?

Baba’s Place feels like a group of great people, doing what they love, and sharing that passion with its lucky diners. It’s the type of place we want to stick around forever and ever, and not just for that Bouillabaisse Bolognese. It’s totally out there, but at the same time brings comfort, and the hearty food packs an inimitable punch. As they’ll tell you on Instagram, visit asap – “don’t be silly”.