UMA
Ornamental alpacas on the walls, real alpacas on the menu.
There can be nothing bolder for a chef than to include their own name as part of their restaurant's name. It's a statement of consummate ownership, perhaps even a boast of unparalleled excellence, for members of a profession traditionally relegated to being "out-the-back", "behind-closed-doors" or "out-of-sight". Not many chefs take up the apron with the attainment of fame their foremost goal; of those that do, fewer still actually achieve it. So it's a brave move to thrust oneself so firmly into the spotlight in such a manner, particularly in the highly subjective world of food. Usually, only the most renowned celebrity chefs would do this (think Dinner by Heston, Restaurant Gordon Ramsay, Jamie's Italian) and even then probably more due to the recommendation of their marketing teams than any personal desire to have their name on a shopfront, or at the top of a menu. But I doubt many people in Perth will have heard of Alejandro Saravia.
As it turns out, Saravia is a celebrity chef – or at least, has worked in the aura of celebrity; he spent his formative years in the kitchen of the Fat Duck, Heston Blumenthal's three Michelin starred restaurant in Bray. Since this time, Saravia has opened the lauded Pastuso, a Peruvian cevicheria in Melbourne, Morena, a Peruvian restaurant in Sydney, and recently, UMA at the Pan Pacific Hotel here in our very own Perth – or UMA by Alejando Saravia, as the restaurant's signage proclaims, in a font so cursive it was almost as if someone had put a pen in the hand of an unwitting ballet dancer mid-pirouette. Cue rising expectations.
Uma, meaning 'mountain water' in a pre-Incan dialect, runs in a similarly Peruvian vein to Saravia's other Australian outings, and celebrates (according to its website) the coast of Peru and Western Australia's own seaside lifestyle with a fusion of Peruvian flavours and WA's sustainable produce. Exciting. The restaurant itself is housed in the Pan Pacific Hotel some ways down Adelaide Terrace, but those making the journey are rewarded with a frankly beautiful space designed by local design firm State of Kin. The colour scheme – earthy tones of ochre and burnt orange on the tiled floor and the leather banquettes, with walls and columns of muted azure – conjure a mod-South American vibe, at once homely yet stylish. Miscellaneous greenery hangs from planters on the walls, and adorns a large oblong banquette which is the centrepiece of the room. Keep an eye peeled for the multitude of ornamental alpacas around the room; a quirky touch which I kinda liked – it added a playfulness to the space just to bring it back from any notion of austerity.
We were sat at a table with a view of the outdoor pool – a pleasant vista on quite a fresh night – although I did wonder how the overall experience might be somewhat different had the pool been crowded with bather-wearing hotel guests. Luckily, I only had to speculate – but perhaps that’s a tip for young players visiting on a balmier evening. Our keenbean waitress led us through the specials, before another waitress arrived to do the same, and suggested a round of pisco sours to start in a tone that was more a command than a question. Nevertheless, we very much enjoyed the refreshing, tart cocktails. The menu here is divided into Mar (meaning ocean), piqueos (snacks), granjas (paddocks) and valles (valleys), and is confidently concise. The mar section is all about ceviches and to visit without ordering one would be like going to a cellar door in the Champagne region and asking for a hot chocolate. Frankly, most of the ceviches here looked beautiful, but we opted for the tiradito de Camerones ($19) of Abrolhos Island prawns, desert limes, white tigers milk and coriander oil. This was an outrageous dish; the prawns were fat and spanking fresh, lolling idly in the tigers milk like a plump tourist at Copacabana. The miniature desert limes burst open with a sourness that cut perfectly through the creamy liquid; a kaleidoscope of milk white, orange, and green-hued coriander oil. Little wonder Saravia was happy to put his name to that. Delicious.
From the snack section of the menu, twice-cooked cassava chips ($9) with Huancaina sauce and parmesan, presented as pile of golden chips generously coated in shavings of parmy, nestled alongside a bowl of spicy cheese sauce. This Huancaina sauce was not really very spicy or cheesy, but was moreish enough, and if the menu hadn’t specified the use of cassava, you’d be forgiven for thinking the chips were standard potato, albeit somewhat denser. Still, it can’t be said this wasn’t a pretty tasty dish – I shouldn’t have to explain the minor phenomenon that results from combining potato and cheese in the mouth area. More adventurous were the Croquetas de Alpaca ($12) – you don’t need Duolingo to understand that these are, in fact, alpaca croquettes. However that sits with you (maybe don’t glance around the room at the little ornamental alpacas at this point), there’s no denying the four matchstick-shaped croquettes that came with a serve of fermented chili sauce are pretty tasty. It’s braised alpaca shoulder that is used here; the meat is dark and lean, a bit like pulled lamb, and the chili sauce was tangy but otherwise relatively polite.
The granjas section of the menus introduces the big hitters – Gingin beef short rib, free-range chicken, grass-fed lamb rump cap and aged, grass-fed Gingin beef, all served with some sort of South American element, be it aji mirasol jus, or salsa criolla. There’s also Abrolhos Island Red Emperor tail, presumably from the paddocks of the sea. We opted for the 400gr Gingin ribeye ($58), with fermented mustard sauce, a formidable piece of meat that arrived flush pink and oozing on the inside, properly char-crusted on the outside. It was sliced to serve and came with part of the bone on the plate. The strips were thick enough to retain juiciness and texture, whilst slim enough to be easy to cut and chew. With meat, you get what you pay for, and the ribeye was a succulent affair, expertly cooked. The mustard sauce, however, was a bit of a misstep –the yellow, seeded quenelle tasted like English mustard that had been left at the back of the fridge for a bit too long. Maybe I failed to truly appreciate the fermentation effect, but it didn’t strike me as particularly palatable, and after giving it a few good-natured attempts, I stopped letting it bring down the beef.
To accompany this mini meat party we ordered a couple of the sides from the “valley” part of the menu. The coffee salted baked potatoes ($12) were soft little boys swimming in a burnt butter and whey sauce, replete with a scattering of fresh chives. For those wanting to a try a coffee-flavoured potato, I’m sorry to disappoint you – they tasted nothing of coffee. Baking the potatoes in coffee and salt helps them to retain moisture whilst acquiring a crispy outer skin – and the results are sublime. They were incredibly soft; the burnt butter and whey sauce adding a savoury creaminess without being too heavy. Before you know it, you’ll be cracking out the Blend 43 every time you’re preparing a Sunday roast. We also had the confit pumpkin with sour yoghurt and toasted pumpkin seeds ($8), a remarkable dish for the price. A hefty wedge of butter-soft pumpkin, one side liberally coated with toasted fragrant seeds, came with a generous dollop of tangy yoghurt - not only did the plate look beautiful; the pumpkin was melt-in-the-mouth soft and banging with splendid christmas flavours. The yoghurt was the ideal foil to the warm spices.
Having eaten a frankly confronting amount of food we decided against dessert, but the offerings stick with the traditional – three-milk soaked sponge cake, alfajors and caramel pudding; all of which sound pretty excellent. There’s also pisco sour and mojito flavoured sorbet so you can end the meal where it began. The wine list is very serviceable, with a good selection of South American wines along with the usual Aussie suspects, and of course the cocktails lean towards fun, sour and refreshing. Bar UMA; which is next door and offers a bar menu featuring some of the lighter dishes from the restaurant plus a few added extras, promises to serve drinks until 3am, 7 days a week – how long that stays the case down in what is arguably Perth’s quieter part of town remains to be seen.
UMA by Alejandro Saravia is doing some very cool things. The food is fun, the service enthusiastic, and the décor stylish enough to say “serious restaurant” whilst being modern enough to avoid being stuffy. This is a place you could bring your foodie friends for a boozy dinner, or tell your parents to visit for an anniversary meal. Watch out Perth, there’s a celeb in town.