Welcome to Yes, Chef! A monthly newsletter in which food writer Sophie Hansen shines a light on our regional chefs. This week she talks with Canberra chef Louis Couttoupes.
After almost ten years as a public servant in Canberra, Louis Couttoupes realised a career in government wasn't for him. He quit and went to Paris with his girlfriend. On an extended holiday there, they fell into the "bistronomy" scene in Paris's 11th arrondissement, meeting chefs from all over the world who worshipped excellent fresh produce and daily changing menus. This was the world Couttoupes wanted to be part of.
He moved back to Canberra and got a job at Bar Rochford, working his way up from washing dishes to becoming head chef.
In 2022, Couttoupes opened his own restaurant called Onzieme ("the 11th" in French) in Canberra's inner-south. With the help of his father and girlfriend, he spent six months renovating the corner space. His dad slept in the basement for three months. (This basement is now Onzieme's cosy wine bar 11e cave; enter through a simple red door on Eyre Street).
There's a lot of talk about local and seasonal in restaurant marketing, but Couttoupes' cooking is the real deal. When the wild asparagus is young and tender, it'll be on the menu that week. Couttoupes probably picked it. If the local figs grown by Couttoupes' friend Sam Vincent are at their best, they'll be the star dessert for the two weeks they are in season. The menu at Onzieme is truly hyper local and hyper seasonal, responding to whatever local ingredient is at its most delicious.
Galah's editor-in-chief Annabelle Hickson visited Onzieme and met Couttoupes while putting together a special Canberra travel guide for Issue 12 of the magazine and has not stopped raving about Onzieme and Couttoupes' cooking since.
So I thought it was about time we welcomed the man himself to Yes, Chef!
Louis Couttoupes, please come in. And bring your recipe for buttermilk panna cotta, burnt honey and Sam's figs with you.
I was doing some building work with my dad in France about 20 years ago in the middle of winter and we would start cooking dinner around lunchtime. It was usually a rolled pork roti or free-range chicken simmered all afternoon in wine with carrots, celery and leek with thyme or rosemary. We would work up an appetite laying concrete or flooring or whatever we were doing that day, and the smell from the kitchen would always just build and build. We were so hungry and exhausted by dinner time, and the food tasted so much better for it. The wine would cook down into a rich sauce that was perfect with some fresh crusty bread and butter. To this day, the smell of carrots and celery deglazed with white wine immediately takes me back there.
When we have groups for birthdays at the restaurant, I love doing big centrepiece mains for them. A whole grilled Murray cod, crispy skin roast duck, or, my favourite, a whole lamb leg à la ficelle (hung over coals). We debone the leg and rub the inside with confit garlic, lemon, and maybe some wild fennel. Because we have an open woodfire hearth in the kitchen, we can suspend it over coals for a few hours like a hanging rotisserie. It slowly roasts and smokes at the same time. By the time the table is ready, it just looks amazing. It is always well received when we take it out for the main course.
A simple bowl of freshly steamed rice with rendered chicken fat and soy sauce is just the best comfort food. Maybe an egg yolk cracked on top too. It feels so rich and hearty for something so light and simple.
I have been cooking in Canberra for about 10 years now. To be honest, I can't think of another place in Australia where I would rather be cooking. I moved from Sydney in 2007 and have come to love the feel of this city. It is small enough never to feel rushed but big enough that there is always something to do. I love how close it is to the bush, the mountains and the south coast. You can be in the middle of a national park or swimming in the Murrumbidgee in just a 20-minute drive from our front door. That also means there are people growing and producing incredible ingredients right on your doorstep. You can't get that in a big city. The community here is so great, too. We have such an amazing group of regular customers who have become friends, and I love sharing new things with them whenever they come in.
The restaurant itself is built around a pizza oven a previous tenant installed. I have always loved cooking over fire, so we kept it and brought in some custom-made grills and a hearth made by our friends at Tharwa Valley Forge. We don't use gas in the kitchen at all, and it really forces you to cook differently. The fire is both a tool and an ingredient. It behaves less predictably than gas or electricity, and you need to pay much more attention to it, otherwise it will trip you up. But it is such a satisfying and intuitive way to cook and adds such flavour to everything it touches that I wouldn't have it any other way.
Figs! We only get our figs from our friend Sam Vincent who grows on the outskirts of Canberra. He is a regenerative farmer with an amazing orchard in Sutton on the road to Sydney. His figs are second to none, and they have a really short season at their peak. He usually gives us a few week's notice that they are ripening, and we always make space for them on the menu while we can get them. They are usually in such abundance that we are always looking for new things to make with the excess. We make preserves, syrups, cocktails, and a fortified dessert wine every year. We eat a lot ourselves too.
Read more about Canberra's brilliant food scene in Galah's alternative guide to the national capital. Not too big, not too small, Canberra has big monuments and small wine bars, important cultural attractions and neighbourhood cafes, and a vibe all its own.
There is no gas in the kitchen at Onzieme. Chef Louis Couttoupes uses fire instead. Photography by Lean Timms.
I am obsessed with Kennedy Ryon's Ego. But if we need a pre-game hype up for service, Darude's Sandstorm.
Impossible. English breakfast in the morning, double ristretto at work, and Taiwanese green tea in the afternoon. All three play an equally vital role in my survival.
Does tiramisu count?
Vermouth. On ice.
Honestly I often forget to have breakfast because I don't get home until so late on weekends after work. But I love a yum-cha brunch on Sunday. Dumplings and tea cure all ills.
I love this on the menu at the moment because it is so super local and super seasonal. We make our own butter in the restaurant, which always leaves us with fresh buttermilk, so we are always looking for new ways to use it. Currently, we are making it into a panna cotta and serving it with Sam's fresh figs. We also get this raw honey from an old Greek guy called Alexi. He drops in every week or so and yells at me, mostly in Greek, about whatever. I think he has hives all around Canberra, and he just drops off old jam jars and cleaned-out yoghurt tubs full of the best honey.
Serves 4
800 ml buttermilk
200 ml cream
3.5 titanium gelatin sheets
150 g caster sugar
Heat a cup of honey in a pan over a medium heat. It will foam and rise in the pan, so a steep-sided pan is important. Reduce the heat and simmer for an hour or so until it has turned a deep amber colour like toffee. Carefully add some water to bring the honey to the same level in the pan as before it was reduced. This will bring the honey to the same hydration point so it has the viscosity of honey but a much deeper flavour. If you don't add the water, it will set very hard when it cools and be impossible to use.
Drizzle a tablespoon or so of the cooled burnt honey on top of the panna cotta. Cut up a fresh fig and place on top alongside some walnuts or hazelnuts and you are good to go.
For more on the delights of Canberra, read Galah's alternative guide to the national capital.
