This overlooked spot is perfect for dates and mates – and a stonking-good Sunday roast
There is, however, a stonking-good Sunday roast, served with crunchy, Hasselback spuds and a golden-brown nimbus of Yorkshire pudding. Minted peas and noble gravy are along for the ride, and the meat du jour rotates between the big four (pork, beef, lamb and deboned and rolled chicken). Visit on a Sunday and you'll also be treated to live jazz led by Nick Jansen on bass, although you'll want to squeeze in early for a guaranteed table: Jangling Jack's is open from 4pm daily and doesn't take bookings.
The compact menu is a grab bag of what Reeves, Ruttan and chef Gihyun Jang (and Sydneysiders, generally) like to eat. Anchovy toast. Cacio e pepe. Chicken schnitzel. A spot-on sticky-date pudding to pair with some pretty ace whisky. There's a non-greasy cheeseburger licked with flame from the grill. There's a Big Kahuna burger because nothing says 'We're here to have fun!' like a juicy patty and pineapple between bread. There's a crumbed tofu burger because vegetarians.
A pulpy cauliflower dip is jump-started with mustard leaves and perilla oil, and house-baked focaccia is on hand to swipe up the grey-green mish-mash. 'Prawn toast' comes out as three puffy little snacks disguised as macarons, their creamy, prawn filling tempering the Lightning Girl house cocktail (a ferocious-delicious margarita riff with mandarin-infused tequila, lime and habanero syrup). The steak frites is $25 every Tuesday (cheap!) and does what is says on the tin: ruddy fillet, lots of caper butter, well-seasoned fries. I don't ask where the cow came from or how long it was dry-aged – it's not that sort of place.
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Sydney Morning Herald
2 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
This yarn about the links between wool and war might surprise you
HISTORY Fleeced Trish FitzSimons and Madelyn Shaw Bloomsbury, $45 What happens when an Australian documentary filmmaker meets an American textile curator? A blending of social fabrics, the first threads of a friendship and a book project that has taken over a decade from inception to delivery. In the middle of last century, before the first of several mining booms, this country's economy was so dependent on wool's fortunes that it was commonly said, 'Australia rides on the sheep's back'. But the impact of the 'golden fleece' on everyone who has inhabited the continent since 1788 has never been properly assessed. Until now. This book focuses on how intertwined the product, and improvements in manufacturing and transportation, were over a century of 'cold-climate wars' from Crimea to Korea. At the beginning of its long heyday, spinning and weaving advances in Bradford, Yorkshire linked with the rise of the British Empire to create a global supply chain enabling a lawyer in colonial India or Africa, if he so chose, to impress a judge as much by his Savile Row tailoring as the persuasiveness of his arguments. That global market was dominated by Australian and New Zealand breeds, principally the Spanish-sourced merino, on grounds of excellence, for nearly a century until, around World War II, synthetic substitutes toppled King Wool from his comfortable throne. Not only do FitzSimons and Shaw study how soldiers in the foxholes on Western and Eastern fronts demanded extra layers of protection – cue the socks patriotic women hand-knitted for their men at Gallipoli – but they acknowledge that the clearance of land for grazing provoked wars with Indigenous landholders from the Antipodes to North America. For such a trailblazer of a book, the authors sometimes cloak themselves in questionable historical garb. Uncritical acceptance is occasionally afforded a story that strains credulity. They would have you believe that in 1870 a callow teen, Cecil Rhodes, was 'cornering the wool market in Sydney, Australia', yet no standard history from Oliver & Fage's A Short History... to Pakenham's The Scramble for Africa ever mentions Rhodes visiting Australia. The truth? Mark Twain, master of the homespun yarn, met Rhodes in Africa on a world tour after visiting Australia. (Read all about it in Following the Equator.)
The Age
2 days ago
- The Age
This yarn about the links between wool and war might surprise you
HISTORY Fleeced Trish FitzSimons and Madelyn Shaw Bloomsbury, $45 What happens when an Australian documentary filmmaker meets an American textile curator? A blending of social fabrics, the first threads of a friendship and a book project that has taken over a decade from inception to delivery. In the middle of last century, before the first of several mining booms, this country's economy was so dependent on wool's fortunes that it was commonly said, 'Australia rides on the sheep's back'. But the impact of the 'golden fleece' on everyone who has inhabited the continent since 1788 has never been properly assessed. Until now. This book focuses on how intertwined the product, and improvements in manufacturing and transportation, were over a century of 'cold-climate wars' from Crimea to Korea. At the beginning of its long heyday, spinning and weaving advances in Bradford, Yorkshire linked with the rise of the British Empire to create a global supply chain enabling a lawyer in colonial India or Africa, if he so chose, to impress a judge as much by his Savile Row tailoring as the persuasiveness of his arguments. That global market was dominated by Australian and New Zealand breeds, principally the Spanish-sourced merino, on grounds of excellence, for nearly a century until, around World War II, synthetic substitutes toppled King Wool from his comfortable throne. Not only do FitzSimons and Shaw study how soldiers in the foxholes on Western and Eastern fronts demanded extra layers of protection – cue the socks patriotic women hand-knitted for their men at Gallipoli – but they acknowledge that the clearance of land for grazing provoked wars with Indigenous landholders from the Antipodes to North America. For such a trailblazer of a book, the authors sometimes cloak themselves in questionable historical garb. Uncritical acceptance is occasionally afforded a story that strains credulity. They would have you believe that in 1870 a callow teen, Cecil Rhodes, was 'cornering the wool market in Sydney, Australia', yet no standard history from Oliver & Fage's A Short History... to Pakenham's The Scramble for Africa ever mentions Rhodes visiting Australia. The truth? Mark Twain, master of the homespun yarn, met Rhodes in Africa on a world tour after visiting Australia. (Read all about it in Following the Equator.)
Sydney Morning Herald
7 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
This overlooked spot is perfect for dates and mates – and a stonking-good Sunday roast
'It's funny you say that,' says co-owner Erin Reeves during a fact-check phone call. 'A lot of people have said it feels like New York, but a customer from London recently said the space reminds her of home.' Whatever the case, it's obvious that Jangling Jack's has been created by real people (Reeves and her partner, Jon Ruttan) with real likes and interests (Resch's, Dr. John, underground punk art of the 1980s). I can usually smell cynicism at 500 paces and there's not a whiff of it here. There is, however, a stonking-good Sunday roast, served with crunchy, Hasselback spuds and a golden-brown nimbus of Yorkshire pudding. Minted peas and noble gravy are along for the ride, and the meat du jour rotates between the big four (pork, beef, lamb and deboned and rolled chicken). Visit on a Sunday and you'll also be treated to live jazz led by Nick Jansen on bass, although you'll want to squeeze in early for a guaranteed table: Jangling Jack's is open from 4pm daily and doesn't take bookings. The compact menu is a grab bag of what Reeves, Ruttan and chef Gihyun Jang (and Sydneysiders, generally) like to eat. Anchovy toast. Cacio e pepe. Chicken schnitzel. A spot-on sticky-date pudding to pair with some pretty ace whisky. There's a non-greasy cheeseburger licked with flame from the grill. There's a Big Kahuna burger because nothing says 'We're here to have fun!' like a juicy patty and pineapple between bread. There's a crumbed tofu burger because vegetarians. A pulpy cauliflower dip is jump-started with mustard leaves and perilla oil, and house-baked focaccia is on hand to swipe up the grey-green mish-mash. 'Prawn toast' comes out as three puffy little snacks disguised as macarons, their creamy, prawn filling tempering the Lightning Girl house cocktail (a ferocious-delicious margarita riff with mandarin-infused tequila, lime and habanero syrup). The steak frites is $25 every Tuesday (cheap!) and does what is says on the tin: ruddy fillet, lots of caper butter, well-seasoned fries. I don't ask where the cow came from or how long it was dry-aged – it's not that sort of place.
