Metro Pulse/Restaruant Rover/Wallaby's

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Wallaby's Restaurant and Pub
902 1/2 Kermit Rd.
281-2228

by Les DuLunch

Recently, it has come to my attention that an impostor is making the rounds of Knoxville restaurants, claiming to be me and demanding free food. While imitation is always the sincerest form of flattery, there's just one thing clearly amiss with this scoundrel's behavior. Les DuLunch never, repeat, never identifies himself or asks for free food. So, while flattered, I also feel a little bit more than a little bit ripped-off.

The owners of Wallaby's, a slightly rough-and-tumble Australian-themed Clinton Highway hangout, probably feel much the same way. When my friend Special K rang me up on a recent Saturday afternoon and suggested we meet for lunch there, I almost backed out. Immediately, I suspected locally owned Wallaby's might be a lesser version of the desperately disappointing Outback Steakhouse, which is basically a Quincy's in Crocodile Dundee drag. Outback's unclever marketing ploy and uninteresting food is every bit as unappealing as The Thornbirds' pederastic plot and hammy, tragi-comic acting. However, I was prevailed upon, and down Auto Alley we went to find a very pleasant surprise in Wallaby's.

Of all the things the land down under is known for, food really isn't one of them. While other nations have highly distinctive cuisines, Australia, like America, seems to enjoy a healthy mix of foods that build on the basic meat and potatoes formula with an increasing influence from its Asian population. But things got off to a distinctly native start with a round of Vegemite, served with margarine and a thick slice of toast for a paltry 50 cents. Interestingly, the concentrated yeast extract, brought to popular American consciousness in the mid '80s by Men at Work, is made by Kraft, and comes in a small plastic container like cheap jelly. It looks like the substance you might find at the bottom of a coffeepot that's been left on for four days straight. Thick, black, and vaguely gooey, the Vegemite's novelty wore off after just one bite; it tasted like, well, it tasted like the substance you might find at the bottom of a coffee pot that's been left on for four days straight. With its earthen flavor and an overpowering bitterness that bordered on a hint of heat, I quickly decided that Vegemite, like Meryl Streep's baby, was best left for the dingoes.

Fortunately, K had the presence of mind to supplement our appetizer with an order of delightful shrimp crackers. (They're not listed on the menu, so you'll have to ask for them.) They're like very light and thin pork rinds, and as so many horribly unhealthy things do, they simply melted on the tongue, leaving behind the light briny taste of a Ramen noodle shrimp powder packet.

Entrée time. Although Wallaby's does pander somewhat to American tastes with lots of rib and steak offerings, and yes, the inevitably trite "shrimp on the barbee" dish, there are also quite a few genuine Australian items to choose from. K and I each selected pastry dishes. His spanikopita-like Tasmanian Triangles ($10.49) came served with an ordinary Caesar salad and deliciously crunchy, tubular little hush puppies. The pastries were wrapped around a dense bed of spinach, feta cheese, and juicy chunks of chicken breast. Sort of a mix of Beef Wellington and shepherd's pie, the hearty and absolutely delicious Aussie Pastry ($7.49) I ordered consisted of flaky, buttery dough surrounding a mix of clove-spiced ground beef, carrots, and onions, served with a side of unremarkable "fried spuds" (French fries). Completely "chockablock" (that's "full"), I pushed the plate back after the meal and exhaled my best Rachel Ward imitation with an anguished "No mohhr!"

But I was back within a week, this time to try a "sanger," or sandwich. Wallaby's offers a variety of them. On the burger front, there's the Jackaroo (with bacon), the Kookaburra (with Cheddar and Monterey Jack cheese), the Wombat, (which is not made from the meat of that rodent-like creature, but instead from plain beef), and the Ostrich (which is made from the large non-flying bird). But I settled on an All Bull ($7.29), rich slices of roast beef in a barbecue-like, soy-based tiger sauce that had a sweet, sour, and surprisingly hot zing. The beef was folded into a soft 6-inch hoagie roll, covered in mellow melted Jack cheese, and lightly toasted. Absolutely delicious. Try it with a cooling side order of grilled bananas or substitute the dubba chips (sugar-sprinkled sweet potato fries) that are served with a creamy cinnamon dipping sauce instead of the regular spuds for only 50 cents more. And you can wash everything down with a fine selection of beers, including Aussie originals like Coopers, Broken Hill, and Fosters, or even a $14.95 bottle of Lindeman's sauvignon blanc.

Wallaby's may be a tad bit rough around the edges appearance-wise, but the service is friendly and the food is fine. There ain't nothin' like the real thing, and that's "fair dinkum" (absolutely true).