Melbourne | GlobalSalsa: travel writer Belinda Jackson

Jan

Great Melbourne CBD cafes

Following on from the last post about great Melbourne cafes, I couldn’t find an up-to-date definitive list of fab, new CBD cafes, so I made one, with a little help from my friends. Feel free to add your own…

Bon a Manger, 387 Little Bourke St (modelled on London’s Pret a Manger),

Tuckshop, 500 Bourke St, opened by cafe maestro and St Ali owner Salvatore Malatesta,

Cup of Truth, Degraves St subway (reportedly run by ex Vue de Monde guys)

Clem’s Island, on an island in the Yarra, via the Flinders St Station-Southbank walkway (no, I have no idea either, but will let you know if I ever find it).

65 Degrees, 309 Exhibition St, opened in Feb last year, the name refers allegedly to the perfect temp for coffee milk.

And further afield, the Age‘s round-up of the best 2010 openings are: Monk Bodhi Dharma (Balaclava), Omar and the Marvellous Coffee Bird (worth it for the name alone – heavens knows where Gardenvale is…), the Social Roasting Company (Flemington), Three Bags Full (Abbotsford, which I’ve been threatening to stagger down to for two months now), Nabiha (Moonee Ponds), Sonido! (Fitzroy), Dr Jekyll (St Kilda), the Premises (Kensington) and Coin Laundry (Armadale).

I’m also throwing Sydney icon Campos in there (144 Elgin Street Carlton) and Naked for Satan (285 Brunswick St, Fitzroy) because I like the name and the cheap pinxtos and De Clieu (Gertrude St, Fitzroy) is on the list for its owners’ immaculate coffee pedigree.

And FYI hardened addicts, the winners of the Victorian Barista Championships, held last weekend, were: (winner) Caleb Pohcanski from roaster Five Senses, (second) Matt Perger from roaster and cafe Market Lane, in Prahran Market and (third) Erin Sampson from roasters Veneziano.

Jan

Coffee, rain and hair straighteners; Bourke St’s got it all

I was catching up with a recently ex-Sydney coffee fiend in the CBD today, so thought I’d better take him somewhere that flashes Melbourne’s serious coffee expertise. A truly great cafe in the CBD? Some would sneer that doesn’t exist, and that I should head for Carlton, Fitzroy or South Melbourne. Online searches drew a blank up the Spring St side of town, so I gave up and thought I’d see what I found on the way, hoping for inspiration.

Through the near-blinding rain that has been a feature of Australia’s eastern seaboard these past few weeks, I walked down the top (ie Paris end) of Bourke St and had a mild revelation.

How could I have forgotten: tiny little Von Haus (good for cosy evenings and slices of lemon tart, 1 Crossley St), Mess Hall (outside tables great in the sunshine, not so great for asthma sufferers, 51 Bourke St) and Pellegrini (allegedly Melbourne’s oldest espresso bar, fine for mama’s slap-up pasta, but I’ve found the espresso bitter in the past, 66 Bourke St). I wandered past boho Lane’s Edge (39 Bourke St) and then clocked Society (23-29 Bourke St), which has dwelt in my subconscious only as a place for great cocktails.

It being a 10.30am catch-up, it might have been a little early for Flaming Lamborghinis, but it was the best looking interior in the street, and not too crowded, so I pulled ‘George’ (whose name has been changed to preserve his identity) into a black-velvet booth and we ordered coffee.

Now, I’m not mainlining that much caffeine at the mo, but when I gets it, I want a hit – and am a little bit past being served a soupcon of latte for $4, so I asked the grey ponytailed waiter (think Byron, rather than Byron Bay) for the biggest coffee on board. He said they all come in the regular cup or a larger mug. A mug o your finest flat white, then, please sir.

Reader, he turned up with a satisfyingly large bucket. George, a raging addict who’d been inhaling coffee since the early morn, had a regular skinny latte. And it was good. Not bitter, not too milky, a touch of chocolate. George even got another one to go, so he could keep his caffeine levels up on the way back to the office. It was the old-school Lygon St roaster, Dimattina. Bonus points for the ladies’ loo, which features a $2 hair straightener to iron your locks turned lank on humid days like today. Too fabulous.

Jan

Revenge of the weather lords

It hit 30 degrees on the weekend here in Melbourne. Right. Well, that’s summer out of the way then.

And with the end of summer comes the end of holidays. On the first week’s struggle back at work for many people, I am delighted by the response from one PR (that’s public relations person, to those on the know – as a rule, overpaid punters who turn blind at this journalist’s requests) who I emailed for a price for a hotel to run in a travel story. I asked last week. Silly me. I forgot that even non-Christian countries delight in the holidays that Christmas affords. “I just got back from a long break. I will get back to you shortly,” he told me for his week-long silence, obviously still stunned at his misfortune to find himself in the walls of an office once again. At least he’s honest.

But really, I shouldn’t moan about the weather. I could be up to my armpits in sludgy brown flood water, with swimming cows and snapping crocodiles floating down the main street – to wit poor, soggy Queensland at the moment.

Yet Melbourne, I have to say I’m disappointed you, turning on today’s sporadic rain, grey skies and general morbidity in mid-January. But then sometimes, you get your priorities right. A quick trip into the city while the definitive grudge sport, the Australia v England cricket series, the Ashes, was on, and the streets were full of smug, boozy, benevolent English people. On the tram, an older Englishman gave me his seat, saying, “I don’t normally do so, but I’m feeling quite happy today.” Reader, I took the seat.

While I’m not a cricket tragic, our drubbing was made worse by the fact it was done in mostly miserable weather, which would of course made our northern-hemisphere visitors more comfortable and therefore happier. Then, on the last day of the Melbourne series, the Aussie sun came out and did the job. The English fans were still understandably smug, but now they were at least sunburnt and smug 😉 You takes your revenge where you can gets it…

Nov

CPI: the cappucino index

According to the most CPI (that’s Cappuccino Price Index to you), Brisbane has the most expensive coffee in the country.

A cuppa will set you back on average $3.31 compared with $3.22 in Melbourne and $3.06 in Sydney.

This tidbit cropped up while I was shooting an Obama blend (‘yes we can!’) espresso in the new Campos cafe in Melbourne.

Campos originally started in Sydney’s capital of grunge, Newtown, and the Brisbane cafe recently was named Australia’s 2010 best coffee, according to Lifestyle Channel viewers… so if you know and trust a LC watcher, then you’d better make tracks to the Valley in BrisVegas.

The Melbourne staff delighted in showing off The Slayer (“How do you spell that?” “You know, like the American band”) a new-style espresso machine from the US that costs $23,000 and there are only 15 in Australia so far.

Despite the Slayer’s best efforts, I realised I’m not an espresso girl anymore, but I’d go back to 144 Elgin St, in Carlton for another of their creamy piccolo lattes. They’re pitching against some serious heavyweights (think St Ali in South Yarra, Seven Seeds on the other side of Carlton), but you know what they say about Melburnians – three or more standing together and someone’ll wheel an espresso machine by…

Oct

Madly Hatted, Richard does Melbourne

Where did you get that hat? Why, it’s a Richard Nylon, of course. Undeniably, marvelously kooky, the milliner Mr Nylon is hot property right now.

Of course, it’s Cup season. That’s the Melbourne Cup to those not in the know.

When I was a schoolkid in Queensland, our teachers would nick off to the staffroom to have a glass of cheap sparkling wine and a fag and throw a few bets on the horses, or we’d even have a sweep in the classroom. The state of Victoria was on holiday.

Now, it’s just the city of Melbourne that gets a holiday so it can drink champagne and bet on the horses.

Mostly, we watch the race on TV, but one year I went down to Flemington racecourse to mingle with the rest of the great unwashed. I remember the statistic: 80,000 people drank 100,000 litres of champagne and sparkling wine. Not a bad effort, people.

The reason for this post is that some of Richard’s wildest hats are on display in Melbourne’s Langham Hotel during the racing season, so I popped in to check them out and to meet the man himself. The hotel was, incidentally, also celebrating the opening of its Seafood Altar. All worship the humble lobster? My kinda bash.

If you were craving hat tips for the season, I can share a few of Richard’s gems:

Asymmetrical hats work best because asymmetry is dynamic and, let’s face it, our faces are asymmetrical. And if you’re going to tilt the hat, tilt over the right eye.
Never wear a hat that’s wider than your shoulders, ESPECIALLY if you’re short! You’re going to end up buffeted by other people all day. If you’re an Amazon standing over six feet six, do whatever you like, with your head up in those clouds.
Hats need stronger make-up, so don’t be afraid to lash on the slap, or be washed out by a hat with more personality than your face.

And hats aren’t just for the ladies. “Women talk to a man wearing a hat,” says Richard, encouragingly. “Hats should be whimsical, a talking point, and fabulous from all angles. Hats are meant to be seen in 3D.”

So ditch that skanky fascinator made from chook feathers, slap on a hat and let’s smash the piggy bank and make for the TAB!

(Translation: get real, get a decent hat, throw away your feathered headpiece, and let’s bet all our savings on a horse that has a snowflake’s chance in hell of winning.)

Sep

Lattes all round at Naked for Satan

Can you choose a cafe just because you like the name?

If so, a newcomer to Fitzroy’s Brunswick St should pack ’em in, with the catchy name, ‘Naked for Satan’. Let’s try it.

‘Hey groover, let’s get to Naked for Satan for skinny lattes!’

Yeah, it works. The coffee’s not bad, either. And the $2 pintxos (that’s mini-tapas, for you down the back who haven’t been paying attention) looked super scrummy as well, featuring healthy-sized chunks of bread layered with jamon or cheeses, and rows of glistening green olives, each dish spiked with a toothpick.

Proving it’s not trying to lure the mum’s clubs (ooh, nasty!), it doesn’t open till midday and there’s a refreshing absence of large, tasteless muffins, with just one sweet on offer, a groovy little three-bite chocolate-cream cannoli that won’t have your skinny girlfriends angsting too much.

Open just four weeks, it also serves vodka (but we were talking business yesterday) and apparently the go with the pintxos is you grab as many as you like, and count your toothpicks at the end to tote up the bill.

Cheap, tasty, fresh Spanish food? That’ll give those money-hungry CBD big names a boot in the pantalones.

Naked for Satan, 285 Brunswick St, Fitzroy, 9416 2238

Sep

Things I just don’t get about Malaysia

No kissing in taxis (see explanatory picture).

The B.U.M. Equipment clothing range. For men, women and children. Er, market research, anyone?

The Petronas towers. Yeah, they’re big man. Ok, they’re real big. And that’s really about it. No cure for cancer or the common cold. They’re. Just. Big. Call me a killjoy, I don’t care.

The fact the population is just 1.6 million (with surrounds, 7 million). “Melbourne looks so small after KL,” said the Kiwi in front of me as we flew into Melbourne lat night.

Clearly, her eyes were painted on. Or perhaps that we were flying at the time over the desolate northern suburbs, where the highest point is the VideoEzy store. Or it’s just that when we think of Asian cities, we think of megapolises. KL’s population is dwarfed by Melbourne, which recently topped four million.

KL’s a young city, too, with Chienese settlers dropping in to mine tin in the 1850s, relative to Melbourne’s founding in 1835.

However, I notice that we both now have Chinese language directions at both airports, so we’re not so dissimilar after all, eh?

Feb

Wake up, Melbourne

What a morning to wake up to!

British designer Alexander McQueen dead. Flash floods in Melbourne. AC-DC rocking out in the stadium and then I open my email to find…the beautiful camel competitions is back on in the UAE.

How do you judge a camel beauty contest? BBC

I also loved this demure line in msn’s reporting on the AC/DC concert. Remember that Angus Young is now 53, and Brian Johnson another decade on:

“And when he peeled off his shorts to reveal his AC/DC boxers in his trademark striptease in The Jack, women in the crowd reciprocated by lifting their shirts.”

Well…good morning Australia!

Feb

All Greek, all wonderful: Hellenic Republic

Melbourne really deserves its reputation as Australia’s food capital. The Melbourne Food & Wine Festival is on next weekend, an absolute extravaganza of things to put in your mouth, and yesterday, I cruised the gorgeous offerings of the Hellenic Republic.

You know I’ve been out of the scene for a year now, so I had to dredge back into my memories of this celebrity chef (glossy cookbooks sold at the door) who is so big on the Melbourne scene. But it all came back when I read the wine list, which had shiraz from Australia, sparkling wines from France and… a welter of wines from – not Greece – but the all-inclusive term, Hellenic Republic. Is the chef, George Calombaris a patriotic Cypriot? I asked, the light dawning. Of course he is.

The table was an extravaganza of food, much of it familiar to anyone who knows Middle Eastern cuisine, with dips such as melitzanosalata (roasted eggplant known elsewhere as baba ganough) and fabulous sagonaki (grilled haloumi cheese) served with baby figs poached in black pepper, but the stand-out was the taramasalata. You know, I’m not a fan of this fish-roe dip, but the table and the waiter egged me on. “Go on, it’s white!” As if I objected because of the traditional ikky pale pink colour of the supermarket version of the dip. Tasting of the ocean, subtle fish and lemon, it was awesome with the fresh Greek white we were drinking, Gaia ‘Notios’. Awesome, awesome, awesome.

The pita bread was hot, fresh and buttery, the lamb cooked on spit was perfect with the tzatziki (cucumber & yoghurt) but the star was a slow-cooked cassoulet of pork and black-eyed beans that the chef whipped up that morning. A perfect winter dish, though we weren’t quibbling on a summer’s afternoon.

There was Attika honey everywhere, from the poached figs to the loukoumathes (deep-fried Greek donuts covered in crushed walnuts) and even an ingredient in the chi-chi soap in the toilets. I’ll have to save up and cruise George’s other two restaurants, the Press Club and Maha, a Middle Eastern affair. Word is a fourth in the group, St Katherine’s, will open in October 2010.

Hellenic Republic, 434 Lygon St, Brunswick East VIC, (03) 9381 1222
Photos: Hellenic Republic

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