Given Pope Joan is just around the corner, it’s an absolute travesty that we’ve never been until now. Cue the two of us on a rainy Sunday morning deciding we couldn’t possibly spend another hour in bed showing each other youtube videos from kids shows in the 90s, we simply had to get out.
How often is it that food makes you weep? … No? Just me?
It was a Sunday morning when I said I would cook eggs on toast and be done with it, but the thought of foraging for the ingredients and going out to buy fresh bread – let alone the cook up – was like adding a jackhammer to the pounding in my brain. Good times were had with my boyfriend’s youngest sister turning 18 – but I think I’m going to stick with adult drinks from now on. Like coffee. That was an absolute godsend and up there with one of the better breakfast cups of Joe that I have had recently.
It was one of those days at work where I didn’t even want to care. Ever have those? Some days I don’t care, but I wish I did; some days I just couldn’t have been less present. As I was sent out on assignment to my neck of the woods, I figured I would take a long lunch and try somewhere that I wouldn’t necessarily get the opportunity to try (other people’s tastes, wallets, etc) and when I checked out the lunch menu online… oooh la la.
Madame Sousou takes up a corner on Brunswick Street (back toward the city from Johnston Street) with a good number of outdoor seats from which to watch the passers-by, like any good restaurant in Paris. On a sunny Friday this is absolute heaven. Table for one, with my book? Don’t mind if I do.
For a place for sinners, this is just too much fun.
As soon as I walked in the door, I knew this was going to be a winner. I don’t often find myself in Footscray, but today I was out in the rain for an auction (for work, not for fun) and the one thing that made me perk up about this little outing was the promise of ticking this one off the ‘to eat at’ list. I beat the lunch rush (at 12:30 on a Friday) and scored quite a large table all to myself, where I summarily laid out my book and phone – my favourite lunch for one companions.
Isn’t it just the way that I don’t visit these cool Prahran places until I’ve moved? So typical.
After a serious morning of exercise, we decided to give Hobba a go for breakfast. I was around 6(?) months or so ago when they first started up and I felt like it was going to be one of those hip industrial fit-outs with a cool barista and far too much attitude with the coffee. What I got was actually a pleasant surprise.
Of course, with a place this good, you’re going to have to wait. If you’re not prepared to wait, you’re going to have a bad time. For three of us, our wait was only 15 mintues, which is completely do-able with a few shops around. I mean, it’s Sunday morning after all. Though apparently walking off during this time, even though you’ve put your name down, means you’re not coming back. Burn. We had to wait another 5 minutes. C’est la vie.
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What is more wonderful than a really good hot cup of coffee?
Well, a hot cup of coffee with a face on it.
Without a doubt, this is my favourite breakfast place in South Melbourne. It has been consistently good, deals out delicious healthy breakfasts and lunches (together with the not-so-healthy, but delicious breakfast burger), and has the best coffee (aside from St Ali coffee, but it’s not always possible to get in there!)
Now I know a couple of other South-Melbourne-Market-goers who read this blog, and it has been a while since I’ve been in the neighbourhood (well, since last year) but I find myself going back to the same Bunyip Cafe time and time again. Cafe Panette? Bad service (actually terrible), despite being the best place to people watch (Tony Martin has been spotted here a couple of times over the years)…Q Eleven (my parents’ favourite haunt) is for me too expensive and sort of failed to impress.
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The night after my boyfriend’s memorable 25th surprise party, we banded together a group of 8 of us to walk down to Victoria Street for Sunday brunch before contemplating the horror that was the scene of the party crime.
T and his girlfriend S, as well as most of her housemates, have been many times to Quint and heralded it the local breakfast joint of choice for the cheap and easy breakfast. As you know, I’ve been to Victoria Street a lot recently for dinner, so I was interested to see how we’d fare searching for breakfast down there.
I have to say, I was disappointed.
Disappointed in the food, which was extremely mediocre. I ordered the ‘Atlantic’ to fulfil my need for scrambled eggs and salmon, coffee to wake the hell up. Disappointed in the service; S explained that she asks them every single time to cook her eggs longer and for a side of mushrooms which NEVER COME. Disappointed.
So, my first local breakfast joint, ‘Min Lokal’, or my local in Swedish. I was put onto it by K from my German class – we got to do a whole class talking cafes (mainly about Austria, but hey, we compared and judged) and then (as is the way of Melbournians) we started talking about our favourite cafes (in Melbourne, none of them in Europe… just to rub it in).
With great excitement I made a brunch date with The Boy and we met up after our respective weekend exercise activities (his, the ‘hell ride’ to Mt Eliza; mine, Bikram Yoga) and drove to Min Lokal. Yes, I am aware I could probably walk from my place to there in 10-15 minutes, but I was VERY hungry and very lazy.
The day I moved into my new house, I had a great day. Not only did everything go to plan (and I was done by 6:30pm!) but it was almost the antithesis of the moving day I had when I moved into Prahran almost a year ago. In fact, that night I had too little packet pasta and far too much red wine. This time, I celebrated with dinner for three at Jorg, a mere 2 minute walk away from the new digs.
Fitzroy North may be only 7 kms away, but it may as well be the other side of the world – not just the river. And naturally, I love it. There are a million culinary delights within walking distance, nothing pretentious (well, not so far) and good value for money. That’s important.
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Monschable Melbourne 