A Bird In The Hand

The Moon Park team is back with a deep bench of talent and a high strike rate, writes PAT NOURSE.

- Pat Nourse

I haven’t quite eaten everything at Paper Bird. Somehow the breakfast bao has eluded me. And I only tried a quarter of a piece of the Hong Kong French toast, a pan-fried peanut-buttery thing that Elvis might have eaten if he’d found himself in Kowloon during the bulging-jumpsuit years. I got my taste by trading some of my shrimp-brined fried chicken for a piece from the table next to me one morning. (Table seven, if you’re reading this: you know you got the better end of that deal.)

But I reckon 24 out of 30 ain’t bad. I’d like to say I’m driven by my dedication to giving you the most complete picture of the matter at hand, but really you’re just my alibi. The truth is I can’t stay away from the place.

Avocado on rye jazzed up with coriander salsa and sesame seeds for breakfast? I’m there. A rich, creamy congee with crab and corn for brunch? Hello. More crab for lunch, served bibimbap-style in a bowl of rice piled high with gooey scrambled egg, swatches of nori and shreds of Brussels sprout? I’ll take two. Sweet-spicy Chongqing popcorn with dried red chilli and Sichuan pepper and peanuts to chase a cocktail? Sign me up. And I’ll be back for dinner.

I wouldn’t come back for the “everything” bagel, mind you (the everything collection of smoked trout, cream cheese, zuke pickles and trout floss comes off sweet) and the coffee situation has been variable, but I want just about everything else again.