By Daisy Dumas
WHO
Tanya Plibersek, MP and deputy leader of the ALP; from Rosebery
WHERE
Onde, Darlinghurst
Onde means 'wave' in the gastronomic mother tongue and is always busy, discreet and downplayed.Credit: Michele Mossop
WHY
"I like it because it's small, it's cosy and it's very familiar. We've been going there for a long time, I know the people who work there, my husband and I first started going there before we had kids – and my daughter's going to be 15 soon. There's always a warm, friendly welcome, the food's great, there's always something on the menu you know will suit you – from light to heavy – always something that will suit people with you. It can be quick and or you can sit and linger and have a few courses. It's not a cheap night out but it's not super expensive; good value for what you get, if we're having a quick meal. You can trust their recommendation for a glass of wine."
WHAT
"I always have the salt cod entree, sometimes as a main size. I don't usually like raw onion but it goes so well with the fish and the peppery watercress. It's the combination of things that makes it so delicious. My husband veers between t-bone and fish and chips. My mother likes liver but she would never cook it for herself; probably 10 years since she cooked it, so when she goes there, she is really happy to have it. The pate is beautiful, as is the yoghurt ice-cream for dessert."
Onde calls itself a neighbourhood diner, but that seems to be on the self-deprecating side.Credit: Fiona Morris
ABOUT
"After two weeks of Parliament, I this week headed to New Zealand. Amongst 'normal' parliamentary life, I do a lot of travel overseas in the breaks. I love cooking; I mostly cook on the weekends and find it really relaxing. I recently made a Middle Eastern almond-and-pink-grapefruit cake with homemade lemon curd from lemons from our garden, then I decorated it with coriander and rocket flowers and pomegranate seeds. When I last arrived home from Canberra, the minute I got home, the kids wanted to start cooking with me, so we made coconut rice pudding and apple tortillas with caster sugar and cinnamon. I then did morning TV at 5am, got home at 6:30am and made bacon and eggs for everyone. There's nothing I don't like but my favourite foods are Middle Eastern roasted cauliflower, lots of kale chips, brussels sprouts and salads. And I love baking cakes."
ONDE
346 Liverpool Street, Darlinghurst
9331 8749, onderestaurant.com
Entrees $17.50-$20; mains $25-$33.50; desserts $12-$13. $100 for two, plus drinks.
FOUR OUT OF FIVE STARS
Onde is MP Tanya Plibersek's favourite place to go for a meal. Credit: Steven Siewert
REVIEW
I think I've found my favourite service in all of Sydney and its hideout happens to be in Tanya Plibersek's favourite foodie homing ground. For waitering nous that is on the ball, a step ahead, grown-up, seriously professional and not at all starchy, Onde is a breath of fresh air.
Not that there's anything very new about Onde – which means "wave" in the gastronomic mother tongue. Even after 19 years, it's always busy, discreet and downplayed. I admire its calm and knowing take on French food, Sydney people and Darlinghurst urbanity. A chef friend has always told me this is where chefs choose to eat out, but I imagine everything from top-rung political deals, hushed assignations and big deals to be done here, alongside couples and sons taking their mums out and groups of hospitality mates on their evenings off. You can't book ahead, it's open every night and prices are staggeringly fair, so Onde calls itself a neighbourhood diner but, to my mind and comparing this to bistros in France, that's on the self-deprecating side.
A big, mattressy tranche of potato bread is charred, its streaks of toastedness playing with the creamy salt cod brandade it is looking after. Watercress, onion and capers, and the odd dot of anchovy, give it all a bit of hop and skip. Unexpectedly, it's my winner of the meal. The gruyere and leek tart – served with frisee and walnuts; so Frenchy, so chic – almost misses me altogether, it goes down so well with my dinner dates.
Fish of the day is light on its toes, sitting on a heap of lentils with punchy little lobes of pink grapefruit and fresh corn.
I steer my partner away from the t-bone steak he always opts for, no matter where we are, and towards the mustard-crumbed beef cheeks. This is a high-risk move. But given he's happiest with a steak or a proper Wiener schnitzel, this beefy-fried option seems a good strategy for maintaining order while Trying Something New, aka compromise. He polishes off the big hunk of rich, soft beef and its potatoes, crisp asparagus and oranges. His only demur is it isn't mustardy enough, but then he loves mustard almost more than steak.
My head cold, I decide, needs real meat. Calves' liver it is. My offal is done the way our grannies would have done it: beautifully prepared (to soak in milk or not to soak?) and then simply fried with plenty of seasoning. It's pink in the middle, caramelised on the outside and served not with onions but with a mound of very fine and buttery stewed red cabbage that all comes together in decadent, earthy nourishment. My dining mates try only tiny morsels, which makes me wonder how we've become so bad at eating all bits of all animals unless they're in heavy disguise (sausages and pate, I'm looking at you). I'm typing this the next day and choosing to believe the hit of vitamins and minerals has done its job.
So, we were all too full to eat dessert, but I'd wager you can't go wrong if you have what my sisters and I used to call a waiting pudding hole. Pear tatin, chocolate terrine and big alpine meringues with cream and strawberries go past our table, handsome and smashable.
Menus are on the walls. A wine list – with French (a bottle of very drinkable Gamay is $40), local and Argentinian featuring heavily, as do Byron Bay and Victorian beers – is on the table. And things are generally unfussy and confident – a little like our MP and this week's Good Food on Sunday star, then.