The Cafe Jerk

A jerk's-eye view of Melbourne cafes

Category: Uncategorized

Journal Cafe, Melbourne CBD

journal cafe

smallwerld.com

 

First of all, I apologise for the lack of action since the last Cafe Jerk post. Some have told me that since April 14 an Independence Day sized shadow has descended upon the Melbourne cafe scene, accompanied by a smaller but no less sinister shadow of an evil Vice President of the United States, also from the aforementioned mid 90′s movie.

And I appreciate it, I really do. That’s why I’m back with something a little special for you, a cafe in the MELBOURNE CBD.  Something so magical that it demands capital letters, bold font AND a bold full-stop. But nothing more.

That’s right, the big smoke. The big banana. The big ole concrete jungle in the sky. I’ll stop. None of this inner-north bullshit today. Today I’m taking you to the very building where the founder of our fair city, the distinguished Jaxxon Batman decided to legally change his name to John, a name more in keeping with the early 1800s and less in keeping with a competitor from the Crusty Demons of Dirt.

 

Meeting of the First State Parliament, 1802

 

And who’s gonna stop him? YOU? Don’t make me laugh. lol. He’s the goddamn founder of this city AND he’s related to Batman.

Turns out that John Batman was so happy with his new boring name that he threw his journal on the ground and shouted “That was Jaxxon’s journal! Johns don’t have journals, they have clipboards, and handsome wives!”.

 

what a hitter

Mrs Batman: what a hitter

 

So yeah that’s probably the origin of the name of the cafe, not to mention the origins of John’s first clipboard and homely wife.

Journal sits on the doorstep of both the City Library and the Centre for Adult Education – or the Centre For Tired Of Life Baby Boomers Learning French Because France Is Such A Nightmare To Travel To Because No One Speaks English Because Tourists Never Go There And Because French People Love Tourists Who Believe They’re Fluent After An 8-week Part-Time Course – and therefore it’s literary cafe brand is a perfect fit. It is a deliciously fit-out cafe/restaurant with lots of wooden finishes (whatever the hell that means) and slightly fewer non-wood finishes. It has a real class about it that many CBD cafes lack. If you can find a cafe in the CBD whose name doesn’t contain its street number, you know its a place to take that expensive escort for a taste of sophistication.

The crowd is what you’d expect at a cafe who grew up around the dewey decimal system. Journal enjoys a healthy mix of the aforementioned Q & A watching fluro-spectacled Epicure readers butchering the French language and groups of Q & A watching bright young things with their MacBook Pros changing the world one uni practice assignment at a time. But they all watch Q & A, you can bet your sweet bippy on that. How do I know this? Journal has two enormous communal tables in the centre of the room and I can’t count the number of times I have overheard young voices crackle with excitement when talking about their “next Instagram” or their “zine based on a novella”.

 

journal cafe

lonelyplanetimages.com

 

That being said, it is actually quite inspiring sitting next to people who are in the process of improving themselves and the world. I enjoy hijacking the hopeful energy diffused around the room and deploying it in conversations throughout the day to give the impression I am more entrepreneurial than I am. This energy illuminates my essence like a halo until I reach the office the next morning, at which point it is smothered by the dead and dying dreams of my older colleagues like a security blanket on Simpson’s daredevil Lance Murdoch.

Journal does the simply things really, really well. I’ve already told you about the simple and sophisticated fit out. It’s a beautiful motherflippin cafe/restaurant. Their rolls/baguettes are so simply outstanding that afterwards you will run to the nearest shit cafe and throw the paninis and focaccias on the floor, and then apologise profusely and compensate the owner for loss of inventory. In fact my regular dining partner, Eric the Discerning Llama with 90s Hair decided to do that very thing after trying a Capocollo and Fontina baguette from Journal recently.

 

journal cafe

 

I have never seen a Llama move with such purpose and such hatred. When I finally caught up to him Degraves Street was a bomb site, with paninis getting soggier by the second on the very wet, very Melbourne pavement. Cafe owners had their heads in their hands or they were gesticulating wildly like in the movies when the star knocks over their stack of oranges while being chased.

 

funny llama

there you go, a llama being sheepish

 

The rolls really are the standout here, in my opinion. They have little menus on the tables which list about 4 meats and 4 cheeses. What you do is pick one meat and one cheese and they put it in a baguette with a couple of slices of fresh tomato and cracked pepper. And maybe some basil if the girl behind the counter thinks you’re a big spunk. You can have it hot or cold. If you’rea vego or vego (the latter is short for vegan) then just don’t order the meat. And if you’re lactose intolerant then don’t order the cheese. It does seem pretty strong that you don’t tolerate cheese though. At least vegetarians tolerate meat, the least you guys can tolerate cheese.

From memory, the choices are Prosciutto, Capocollo, Mortadella and something else, and the cheeses are Pecorino, Fontina, Bocconcini and Casalinga (upon closer inspection the Casalinga could be cheese or meat). The tomato and pepper really are the perfect partners for these meat and cheese combination. Really fresh, quality ingredients to. It’s a sign of AWESOME to back yourself and make something so simple, and to be honest I feel that more and more places around Melbourne are heading in this direction, which is a good thing. But Journal has been doing it for ages. So kudos, Journal.

 

journal cafe

I get nervous taking photos in cafes

 

elle macpherson

The text message to Elle MacPherson I was pretending to write so people didn’t think I was taking a photo of the menu

 

I decided to try one of the specials recently, the lamb tagine. It was a cold wintry night and a tagine is the shit when it’s cold outside. So that’s why I ordered it ok? Jesus back off. Here is a picture of it, to give you a chance to calm down a bit.

The meat was really tender and very

 

lisa simpson

 

 

Unfortunately, I feel that overall it was fairly bland. It was nice and all, but I think it needed a bit more spice and a few more sultanas to give it a bit of a sweetie tang. Their drinks menu seems sufficient. But they always do to me.

Oh yeah I had some of their chocolate mud cake the other day and it was so delicious that I didn’t take a photo of it. It was dense. And dense is good in a mud cake isn’t it. The true sign of a good mud cake is whether you can use it as a pillow without it a) leaving a mark on either your face or your bed, and b) losing it’s shape. If you can fall asleep on mud cake you have serious mental issues and you have a serious mud cake.

 

journal cafe

tim-martin.com.au

 

You guys should all go to Journal because it’s ridiculously good. Some say if you take enough drugs you can still see the ghost of young Jaxxon Batman, his ugly wife and his superb clipboard behind the counter.

 

 

Journal Canteen on Urbanspoon

Pope Joan, Brunswick East

 

photo from brunchaddict.com

 

As the war-cry of the controversial Wu Tang clan of the northern Scottish highlands once rang out:

“Wu Tang clan ain’t nuthin to fuck with”.

Unfortunately, their decidedly non-kilted attire and fondness for big booty hoes were but 2 examples of the cultural differences that ultimately led to them being run out of Scotland by the kilted majority.

 

Ol Dirty Bastard felt kilts hid his figure

 

Their legacy lives on, however, in the many local variants of this war-cry that have surfaced throughout the highlands in recent years. One such variant favoured by the well-educated but vicious Kilmarnock clan is:

“Morning routines aren’t something with which one should tamper”.

This fear-inducing battle cry has become somewhat of a mantra for me of late, as I am a strong advocate of a regular morning routine. The first thing I usually do upon waking is crawl over Norah Jones without waking her and open up my laptop to see what is happening in the world. Like most of you, the first place I check is The Australasian Sandwich Association’s website (sandwich.org.au/au). So here I was, just trawling through the site and catching up on the latest sandwich-related news when I see this incredibly lame headline:

“Hardly a Vegemite sandwich in sight as foodies toast Australia’s tastiest morsels”

Now I don’t need to tell you that the headline of course refers to the 2011 Australasian Sandwich Association’s World Sandwichship. In the sandwich world it just doesn’t get any bigger or better.

To save you the torment of having to read this pun-filled article, the basic gist was that the guy who won the Australasian Sandwich Association’s World Sandwichship is the same guy who started Pope Joan in East Brunswick, a young man by the name of Matt ‘Matty’ Wilkinson. Funny story about that nickname actually. When introducing himself to competitors he said “Hi, I’m Matt but you can call me Matty if you like”. And so they did.

Obviously, if the world’s best sandwich man is showcasing his wares in a trendy inner-northern cafe not far from my house, you can bet your wrinkly old grandma* that the Cafe Jerk will be there.

*NB: Don’t bet your grandma. At best her value is sentimental (to you) and like all old people there is very little need for them except for providing us with a good laugh when they stumble on the tram.

 

 

Pope Joan’s location is what us with Marketing degrees like to call ‘destinational’. In other words there ain’t nay motherfucker within 2 kilometres. It sits among semi-industrial buildings and houses on Nicholson street inhabited by old Italian widows who would sooner spit in the Pope’s face than eat anywhere with a ‘philosophy’.

There’s not a huge range of options on the menu, which is good. The menu can be found here http://popejoan.com.au/menu

The guy is the sandwich king of the world, so you would have to be some kind of moran to come here and not order a sandwich.

 

 

The first one I ordered was the Cuban sandwich, which contains pulled pork, pickles and cheese. If there was one sandwich I would want to play me in a movie about my life as a sandwich, it would be this one. It’s just all thrown in there together and tastes amazing. And the bread is really good. Sorry I can’t think of anything better to say about it. Just picture me as a sandwich if you weren’t already.

The awesome thing about the sandwiches here (they are actually more like rolls but who the fuck cares right) is that there is no bullshit about them. It would be so easy for a world sandwich champion to try to be all fancy and treat every sandwich as a personal vanity project. You know, sitting on a bed of this, served with a side of that. But they are just really good quality rolls with about 3 ingredients that all go together.

 

 

My dining partner Eric the Discerning Llama with 90′s Hair, ordered The Cornish Sandwich, which comprises a soft roll, Milawa roast chicken, stuffing and jalapenos. Eric never had much money growing up. He used to dream of the day when he would have enough money to go to the fancy restaurants down the street that the rich people went to. His parents used to take tourists on llama rides for 360 days a year just to scrounge up enough to send Eric off to private school.

Then he invented the Merry-Go-Round and his life changed forever. Suddenly he was flying private jets to the French Riviera and sleeping with those llamas from the society pages. Now that he is loaded, he feels he shouldn’t be eating something as simple as a roast chicken roll, let alone one not sitting on a bed of anything. It didn’t help that the roll arrived looking like this:

 

photo provided by http://www.mailintalks.com

 

Here we go, I thought.

 

"Oh look, they served me a baked potato. I'm a regular at Vue De Monde for Pete's sake"

 

This is what it looked like when it was opened up.

 

photo provided by http://www.mailintalks.com

 

photo provided by http://www.mailintalks.com

 

Eric was shocked that something so simple could taste so good. Despite his big-noting with regards to how unspicy these jalapenos are compared with the habaneros he is used to, he still thought they were a better choice than habaneros and that they really brought something to the party. And not in a lame way either.

 

Seriously, who brings a guitar to a party

 

I also tried the Rueben sandwich, which won’t surprise my loyal reader. Quick recap: beef, cheese, pickles. Anyway, it was a while ago and I am pretty sure it used some sort of non-rye bread. Which is a bit of a turn-off for me. I had eaten QUITE a lot of food just prior to it but I think I prefer the Rueben at Dexter. As Google Images is being a real bitch and won’t let me find any pictures of it, here is a picture of Rubens Barrichello holding a Rueben on a stick.

 

 

With my sandwich needs fully sated I decided to be a bit of a fancy boy and order the Spanner Crab Omelette with coriander and chili salt. If my old football mates knew that I ate things like Spanner Crab Omelettes that would probably delve deep into their underdeveloped wit and call me a ‘spanner crab eating fuckwit’, which wouldn’t be entirely untrue. Once again, when it came out it didn’t look that great. But then I was all like, “remember you spanner crab eating fuckwit, the rolls didn’t look that great but they tasted sweeet playyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”. So I reserved my judgement until I tasted it.

 

 

On its own the omelette was tasty, sure, but this spanner crab eating fuckwit was expecting a bit more. So I decided to get busy with the coriander and chili salt and BAM! this dish just did a U-turn and started heading up the offramp at the turnoff to Incrediblesville, USA. Something about that chili salt that just took it to a new level.

Just a quick note about the staff here. They have real moxy, spunk, dash. Whatever you choose to call it, the staff here has it (unless you choose to call it something which is the opposite of those 3 words I mentioned). It seems like they are encouraged to have a personality and actually have a bit of fun, which although it may have rankled Eric’s proper sensibilities, everyone appreciates.

Pope Joan has taught us what Craig David has been trying to teach us for the past 15 years, that it’s all about the flayva. And that’s coming from the playa who met this girl on Monday, took her for a drink on Tuesday, they were making love by Wednesday, and on Thursday and Friday and Saturday, and then they chilled on Sunday. So ignore him at your own peril.

Pope Joan on Urbanspoon

 

Storm in a Teacup, Collingwood

 

Tea and coffee have been fighting a bloody war ever since coffee was invented by Jesus Christ in order to upstage his nemesis Christian Slater, who in 1996 – a mere 8 years beforehand – had invented tea in order to calm his nerves before starring in the poorly-received film Broken Arrow.

 

 

Even though tea is the world’s second most popular drink after water, one can’t help but feel that tea has been fighting a losing battle in recent years in Melbourne cafes. All this new-found passion for soy lattes, frappucinos, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kopi_Luwak, coffee artists and babycinos (which are invariably ordered by sunhatted loser parents for their sunhatted loner kids) has only served to widen the chasm between the two heavyweights of the heated water beverage industry. Tea drinkers are forced to sit through the waiter’s explanation of the pet hates and the family tree of each particular coffee bean, and then when it comes to tea we are usually directed to a penciled scribble on the back of the menu saying something like “Earl Grey, English Breakfast, or Green Tea” usually from those clowns at Teadrop. And then when you somehow manage to get your head around the dizzying array of teas and pick something, you are treated to a leaky tin pot with a Twinings tea bad hanging out of it. And by the way, putting ‘Green Tea’ as an option is like putting ‘Coffee’ as the only coffee option on the menu.

If it wasn’t for that recent Kony 2012 campaign I would definitely say FML.

All I can say is, thank Christian Slater for Storm in a Teacup.

Storm in a Teacup is a cafe run by tea people for tea people.

 

 

What follows is me getting a bit mathematical on yo ass (according to The Wire, that means ‘your bottom’).

Coffee wankers + Masterchef-watching baby boomers in fluoro glasses who like reading Epicure magazine = Tea squared.

Let me explain that to those of you unable to follow this NASA-esque equation in your head. Basically, it means:

Coffee wankers + Masterchef-watching baby boomers in fluoro glasses who like reading Epicure magazine = Tea squared.

For those slow-witted readers still shouting “But Cafe Jerk, that complicated addition bullshit still looks like an equation that Rainman and that little punk from Mercury Rising couldn’t solve!”, let me elaborate.

Basically, these groups have turned everyone into foodies (and no, the drink equivalent of foodies is not ‘drinkies’. ‘Drinkies’ are what 18 year old girls have on Friday night while trying on similar outfits and shouting ‘woooo’ ad nauseum). People don’t feel guilty anymore about ordering fancy stuff now, ie. fancy tea. Oh and the Tea Squared bit, I just like the name Tea Squared. It sounded like an rebellious character’s name on an early 2000′s TV show written by, and for, white people.

 

Tea Squared causing trouble

 

You get a different feeling when you walk into Storm in a Teacup, and I think most of it comes from knowing you are among your own kind. Kind of like when white people go to Bridge Road. It is a similar feeling to that I described in my post on Cibi, actually. You automatically feel relaxed and at ease, which probably also has something to do with the lack of ridiculous banging and smashing that is apparently the by-product of a standard cup of coffee. And even though the place is small and new you don’t feel like the owner is watching your face for the slightest hint of enjoyment every time you take a bite of your food. Man is it awkward when that happens.

To highlight the difference between coffee drinkers and tea drinkers, here is what a cafe looks like when filled with coffee people.

 

"I said a touch of soy, you jerk!"

 

Here is what a cafe looks like when filled with tea people.

 

 

The food is actually pretty good here. My favourite is the rare roasted beef on light rye with Persian fetta, rocket and pickles. It was really, really…good. It was definitely one of the more gooder things on the menu. My dining partner, Eric the Discerning Llama with 90′s Hair, used the occasion to showcase his Frasier-esque sense of humour for the benefit of the waitress

 

"Rare roasted roast beef? For a minute I thought you were going to bring out some grain fed dry-aged 300 day rib eye LOL!"

 

 

Next up was the Tea eggs on toast with some sort of cranberry sauce / chilli jam. From what I can gather, tea eggs are pretty much eggs hard-boiled in tea, and they are pretty good. Tea, eggs and reading are 3 of my favourite things in the world, so I was pretty close to perfect happiness. All you need to do is throw in Norah Jones and an enjoyable half-day at Wet ‘n Wild and I would be in heaven.

 

 

I did take a photo of the menu but my damn photo app makes that photo sound every time I take a photo and so I am usually more focused on taking the photo at the exact time the music steps up in volume than I am on taking a good quality photo. So I can’t actually read the desciption of the dish too well. That sentence I wrote just before that last one actually contained 6 instances of the word ‘photo’. I have to admit it did feel a bit strange writing it, actually. Anyway, here are a couple of photos. This one is my impression of how Michael J Fox would take a photo of the dish, which also happens to coincide with a waitress walking past me.

 

 

This one is what a normal photo of the dish looks like

 

 

This one is what it looks like when Eric the Discerning Llama with 90′s Hair decided to survey his eggs from a different angle. One could argue that an egg looks much the same from every angle, and they would be right.

 

 

This is what it looked like when Eric cut into his eggs and arranged them on his toast so that he could control the flavours of each of his bites. I couldn’t help but laugh when the eggs fell off the bread after every bite.

 

 

The last dish we ate was the free range chicken terrine with an orange and beetroot something (shit menu photo again, I truly apologise) & rocket on organic sourdough. It was wrapped in vine leaves and dwarfed by the mountain of bread accompanying it. I gotta say, this wasn’t my favourite but it was still pretty tasty. I have never been to a place where I am given too much bread, if anything I try to fashion a bread-like substitute from whatever is left from my plate, but I think I probably was given too much bread this time. It’s like when you have 2 dates on the same night, it’s a good problem to have.

 

"The main difference, I find, between this dish and a dolmade is that inside the vine leaves is a chicken terrine, and not rice"

 

This is a tea palace and therefore I should make a quick note on the tea. They do have some delicious – and rare – teas here and they are too numerous to mention. Their iced genmai cha is one of the better things in this world to drink on a hot day. I would say though that if you order green tea from cafes then you will have your world rocked by ordering some here. Firstly, the quality of tea here is on a different plane. Mainly, though, is the fact that they actually brew their tea at the right temperature. At pretty much every cafe you go to they put the green tea in boiling water as if it were black tea, and it results in some bitter garbage. It should be steeped in slightly less than boiling water. I still can’t believe that no cafes get that right. You pretty much burn all the subtleties out of the tea and quite frankly, it angers me slightly more than it should.

I only have one small issue with Storm in a Teacup with regards to their tea, which will probably put me in hot water with the tea community (just a little LOL for you). I am not a huge fan of tea cups that are too dark inside to see the colour and/or strength of the tea it holds. Especially if it is a black tea and you need to know how much milk to add to it. That is my only qualm. I love that word. It is my go-to scrabble word when I am stuck with a Q.

I suggest you throw your piping hot espresso in your local barista’s face and walk into Storm in a Teacup and embrace the tea drinker way of life, and if you don’t like it then you can always throw your green tea at the people who work here. But the joke will be on you fools, because its slightly-less-than-boiling water will give them second degree burns at worst.

 

Storm in a Teacup  on Urbanspoon

Cibi, Collingwood

I love Japan. Everything about the place just makes me feel good. It has a well-earned global reputation for design, attention to detail, food, ceremony, friendliness and hard work. Basically, the anti-me. And seeing as they are basically the only country never to be occupied by Imperial forces, they have held onto their traditions as tightly as a Vengaboys band member holds onto his authentic outback cowboy hat.

vengaboys

The sellout crowd at the Oodnadatta Pub particularly appreciated the man the blue-collar act

 

Speaking of authentic outback cowboy hats, Cibi has very little to do with authentic outback cowboy hats.

Cibi is a Japanese cafe in the backstreets of Collingwood and is actually run by Japanese people. And I love it. It just exudes an effortless charm and is the kind of place that would appeal to Japanophile, designophile and paedophile alike. Maybe not paedophiles, who knows what kind of cafe those sick freaks are into. Actually, I rarely see kids in Cibi. And you know the old saying “If there aint no kids the pedo’s lose their lids!”, I think it was Wordsworth. What I am trying to say is that Cibi is really a charming and very adult cafe, and probably one of the least likely cafes to play host to paedophiles.

I don’t know about you guys, but when I am surrounded by Japanese things and Japanese people I tend to subconsciously adjust my personality accordingly. I feel I enter an almost-hippy state, whereby I become infinitely more polite and tend to appreciate the smaller things in life. I also think I do these little quarter bows of the head as I say thanks because I feel the Japanese appreciate a really genuine thank you more than anyone. It happens to me in Japan and it happens here – simply on a smaller scale. I think this is one of the truly great things about the Japanese culture, it’s like a refresher course on how the West has got things wrong in many ways. But I’m not at Cibi as I type this, so I will cease this hippy bullshit and go back to being a boorish suit who orders the secretary to do my bidding like the corporate big dog that I am.

cibi cafe

Just a couple of fellow dreamers. "Is there anything softer than a cloud?". from http://www.6lumens.com

 

You should come to Cibi on both the weekend and weekday to get the most out of the place. On the one hand, weekdays are quieter and just an awesome place to wind down before you go back to barking at your secretary. And when there aren’t many people there you can just spread out at a table and read their copies of Monocle magazine while you watch the staff just be pleasant. Really pleasant. So pleasant that if the staff were the weather then you would walk out your front door and say “Gee this weather is really quite pleasant”, before picking up the paper and walking back inside and sleeping all day.

cibi cafe

Did I mention it was pleasant? taken from http://www.broadsheet.com.au

 

On the other hand, weekends are when you get to enjoy the entire menu – including some of their more Japanese breakfast plates. These are about as authentic as it gets. Typical Japanese breakfast is basically rice with an assortment of side dishes, usually – but not limited to – fish, rolled omelette, pickles, nori, fermented soy beans and in Cibi’s case, a pickled plum. Now tell me that isn’t the healthiest breakfast you have ever seen. No wonder Japanese people aren’t fat and old and white.

breakfast cibi cafe

I didn't know where to start so I hit the plum around with my spoon for a while

 

Whilst I really do enjoy this kind of breakfast and can appreciate the beauty in it, sometimes I just want something really heavy and unhealthily egg-reliant for breakfast. Nonetheless, it is one of the coolest breakfasts around. My dining partner, Eric the Discerning Llama with 90′s Hair, also thought the dish was particularly well-constructed.

Speaking of well-constructed, the building that houses Cibi seems to be fairly sturdy and structurally quite sound. The builders should be particularly proud of their efforts.

If you want a more Western-style breakfast they do a simple but incredible avocado on toast, more specifically “Avocado with lemon and Lucilla biodynamic extra virgin olive oil”. I really wasn’t prepared for how good this was.

funny llama

"I mean, it's still just avocado on toast, right?"

 

WRONG, Eric. You dickhead.

avocado toast cibi cafe melbourne

I just realised affogato sounds like avocado, yet is not related to it in the slightest. Well, there you go.

 

Whenever I have heard people say what a difference ‘quality ingredients’ make to a dish, I usually dismiss them as food losers with too much money and I just throw an egg at them. But my god, for the first time in my life I could actually see what they were talking about. All the components of the meal were amazing but for some reason I think the best part was the olive oil and the seasoning. I don’t know what biodynamic means (despite our family history in the edible oils business) but I assume it involves farmers massaging the little olives and reading them stories. Probably some sort of Popeye spin-off starring Olive Oil as the main character. But I have to say that the good people at Lucilla Olive Products have really rocked my world and for that, I owe you my life.

Eric has tried – and enjoyed – the Soba Salad here before, but only because:

funny llama

"You really need to GET Soba salad to get the most out of it, and I do"

 

In the south-east corner of the cafe they also sell a number of Japanese-crafted kitchen items from well-known (apparently) artists. If you are the type of person that buys crafty sorts of things this place would be heaven for you, and while I can appreciate the beauty in these objects, I spend my money and on ringtones that I could probably download for free.

Cibi, you are wonderful.

cibi cafe
Sellin’ stuff like a boss. stolen from http://www.breakfastout.com.au

 

Cibi on Urbanspoon

Two Bob, Fitzroy North

There are a few golden rules that I believe any new cafe owner should follow when it comes to naming their cafe;

1) Never name your cafe after its street name and/or number (eg. Cafe on Lonsdale, Cafe 133, or 214 Glenferrie Road Hawthorn VIC 3122 Cafe),

2) If it is set in a historic building, never name it after its original function (eg. The Old Firestation Cafe, Stamps (if in an old post office)),

3) No zany spelling of words. This includes, but is not limited to, replacing ‘s’ with ‘z’. (eg. Puss in Bootz Cafe). Limit the zaniness to your spare time, which I imagine involves wearing a risque Mambo t-shirt with the dog farting a musical note,

4) If you wrote your business plan in Comic Sans MS and you acted upon the advice dispensed by that fucking paperclip, I highly doubt you have what it takes to name and run a successful cafe,

 

two bob cafe fitzroy north

 

5) Don’t EVER name it after the business owner/s or their family (eg. Carol’s Cafe, Two Fat Ladies, Peter and Michael Johnson’s Sensibly Priced and Neatly Presented Cafe).

So you can understand my trepidation when I heard this place was called Two Bob. I automatically thought, “Oh Jesus if this place is owned by two people called Bob then I’m going to boycott this place and slide an anonymous note made from newspaper clippings under the door like the stalker in The Bodyguard”. But it turns out it is just an old bank, hence the name. Even though it technically breaks rule number 2, I can dig it because it’s pretty subtle.

 

Two bob

Sorry Grandma, the State Bank of Victoria hasn't been here for 140 years

 

There is no doubt, this place is visually stunning. It has been tastefully designed with Scandinavian-inspired finishes (probably) and is really a pleasure to look at. But you try telling that to my sensitive sweat glands. I have never been so hot and sweaty in my entire life. Just to let you know, I ordered 3 apple juices during my meal.

 

two bob cafe fitzroy north

This is what a professional photo looks like. taken by broadsheet.com

 

two bob

And this is what my photos look like

 

Granted, the temperature was on its way to mid-30′s outside and it had been high-30′s the day before. But Jesus H Christ Jnr it was stuffy inside. They had 2 Aldi-esque air conditioners in the place and they both pointed directly down into the kitchen.

 

two bob cafe

Kitchen staff at Two Bob during the morning rush

 

Now I’m sorry but if you take a job in a kitchen then you pretty much know going in that it is one of the hottest professions around – along with any job you see on a VB ad. So you get no sympathy from me if it is hot in there.

And even if they were pointed to the main part of the cafe, what exactly do you think two little air conditioners are going to do to keep a cafe of this size cool? It would be cheaper and more effective to hire some small local children to stand next to your customers and blow on them.

To be fair though, we did go there on a really hot day and it is an old bank. Banks were designed to be hot and stuffy so that robbers in balaclavas would suffocate and die from heat exhaustion if they ever went in there. Look it up on Encarta 95 if you don’t believe me.

 

two bob cafe

balaclava-clad hooligans: NOT WELCOME

 

My dining partner Eric the Discerning Llama with 90′s Hair was in his element in this heat. He gave a little wry smile every time I wiped my forehead with every napkin I could get hold of and was just generally being a jerk. He even ordered a hot chocolate (despite hating them) and placed it slightly closer to me so that the steam would drift into my increasingly wet face. Then he came up with this pearler:

 

two bob cafe fitzroy north

"I haven't seen such a waste of paper since John Howard's autobiography, which I only read ironically".

 

Yeah nice one you pompous dickhead. I honestly don’t know why I eat with him sometimes.

Now to the food. I have only eaten one thing here, namely the Spanish-style Omelette with chorizo, truss tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella. This was really, really delicious and even filled me up. And my sweat provided just the right amount of salt to bring the dish to another level.

 

spanish omelette two bob

Spanish omelette

 

If I hadn’t already been eating like shit that weekend I DEFINITELY would’ve ordered the following menu item: Brioche French Toast with grilled banana, honeycomb, salted caramel and marscapone. If I were to marry a breakfast item (and I pray to god the legislation will be passed someday) it would probably be the scrambled eggs I make myself every morning: uninspiring but dependable. But if I were to take a breakfast item on a dirty weekend away down the coast, it would definitely be this little french toast number. We would stay in bed all weekend, only surfacing to fetch ice buckets and check our twitter feeds.

Eric had a particularly voracious appetite on this hot February morning, and so he ordered quite a few dishes. Unfortunately, even though Eric enjoys all the meats of our cultural stew and likes to think of himself as quite the refined gent, he is still a llama and therefore still eats like an animal. So I didn’t have time to take photos of the meals. But I can tell you that he did order the “Crumbed poached eggs with grilled asparagus, smoked salmon, toasted pinenuts and toasted sourdough” and was suitably impressed.

 

two bob cafe fitzroy north

The fried ice cream of the cafe world. photo from brunchalot.com

 

two bob cafe fitzroy north

"When I make this dish at home I like to use artisanal French sourdough from a little bakery in Southern Marseilles, but this is still very impressive for a cafe"

 

He also ordered the “muesli with raspberry yoghurt, fresh fruit, multigrain toast, and avocado and feta”. He also posited that people only order muesli because they think it’s healthy, like eating at Subway. But it’s actually not. I don’t know how a creature that grew up on grass and tree shoots thinks he is any authority on diets but I was too hot to argue and he was in one of those moods.

 

two bob cafe fitzroy north

"Even though I ordered it ironically, I thought the addition of avocado and feta brought an otherwise pedestrian dish into the realm of the acceptable".

 

Overall, the food and the aesthetics of Two Bob is great. Can’t fault them. But my god man, THE HEAT. I remember eating at this place on a mild day last year just after it opened and it was still stuffy then. So I would definitely go back there if they did 2 things: 1) they bought 10 more air conditioners and 2) they hang a light-hearted poster on the wall from the 80′s of a penguin wearing sunglasses and saying “Keep your cool, dudes”. I think these additions could transform the place.

 

Two Bob on Urbanspoon

Fenix, Richmond

Despite the name of this “blog”, I don’t wish to be a jerk about cafes.

It takes guts to start a cafe and I have nothing but respect for those that do. People borrow from friends and sink their life savings into them only to see potential customers walk past time after time, picking apart the menu as if it were a foster parent application. And then you get internet heroes like me that have never had the guts to start a business just go to town on places. So I really don’t want to be a jerk about this place, but I will.

 

fenix melbourne

 

Let me just start by saying that Fenix got on my bad side about 6 weeks ago. And if you will indulge me, I intend to take you back to that fateful day in early January when the birds were chirping, the sun was shining and an apple-cheeked young man by the name of The Cafe Jerk was walking down Victoria Street looking for somewhere to pretend to read Dostoyevsky.

As the 2nd child of Mr and Mrs Cafe Jerk, little The was always picked on at school for his name – usually something along the lines of

“Hey The, at least my name isn’t an adverb, you dickhead!”

“The is actually called a ‘distinguishing adjective’, or ‘definite article’  in the northern hemisphere, you dickhead!” would be his usual comeback as he looked around his classmates for high-fives.

Whenever The rehearsed this grammatical pwning in his head he always pictured being chaired off by the class to the cheers of “THE! THE! THE!”, instead of what usually happened – ie. Stinky Taylor caving his face in with his little fist.

Annnnnyway, enough of my painful childhood. Back to that day in early January 2012. It was such a beautiful day that I thought it would be a great idea to sit by the river and read my book. And then an even better idea hit my dome, why not sit at a cafe by the river, where they can serve me both spirituous and non-spirituous beverages and perhaps some food.

It was closed. On a sunny Saturday in the middle of Summer. And did I mention it overlooks the mighty Yarra River. Excuse my French, but why the fuck would you close a riverside cafe in summer? Close it all winter as far as I care, I don’t even want to look at a body of water when it’s pouring rain. But Summer? Come on.

 

fenix cafe richmond

Sky must've been photoshopped in as Fenix doesn't open when the weather is too nice

 

Eric the Discerning Llama with 90s Hair was invited to join the family at my parents’ birthday brunch at Fenix recently. I had mentioned the ‘Summer Closing’ story to him and he wanted to come down and show his support for me by making a snide and possibly snooty comment under his breath to a Fenix waiter. I knew he wouldn’t go through with it though. Llamas are non-confrontational by nature and so he just ordered the Chinese Wok Omelette with char siu pork, sweet pickles & ginger and decided to let it go. Eric being Eric, I knew he couldn’t let a meal go by without some unnecessarily snooty comment.

 

eric discerning llama 90s hair

"China is far from homogenous. I would like to know in which particular Chinese province this is considered breakfast"

 

I tasted some but unlike Eric, I could get past the name and found it quite tasty.

Then something awkward happened. Eric’s ex-girlfriend arrived and sat literally 2 metres from our table. He was visibly shaken as I remember him saying she had a bit of a nasty streak to her. Turns out he broke up with her because he was sick of dating llamas and she was less than impressed. Apparently called him a human-fucker at least twice. We largely ignored her, but you could see it was kind of getting to him.

 

fenix cafe richmond

You can really see what Eric saw in her. Just a classical beauty.

 

I made a classic error of going for the most exotic sounding thing on the menu, the Homemade Spiced Bread I think it was called. It came with some almond crumble, marscarpone and apple fucking compote. Sorry, but seasoned readers of this week-old blog know that saying compote makes me feel like John Q Foodiefuck Jnr. It was actually tea cake. Why didn’t they just say tea cake on the menu? It’s like when people call it banana bread. It is cake. Maybe they just call it bread so you don’t feel like you are eating cake for breakfast. I was picturing some sort of a damper or something. Instead it was more like a damperer! Am I right? Am I right? Wooh just the ladies this time. Yeah the ladies know it.

At the end of the day it was ok but just a bit small and not very filling. Like cake. Not like bread. And it came on a chopping board! How amazingly rustic. I felt like I had been transported to an old English kitchen in the 19th century where widowed old lady Worthington decided not to waste the crockery on me considering we both knew sooner or later it would just end up on the floor in a fit of unbridled passion.

 

housemade spiced bread fenix

Rustic is the culinary word for lazy

 

I took shocking, rushed photos of the other meals without my family noticing because even though they know I occasionally write a ‘food blog’ it still doesn’t register with them that I need to take photos of the food. Whenever the phone comes out and the click of the camera sounds they are likely to let off a little giggle, almost as if they know a way to transport an image of the food onto a computer screen without taking a photo of it. I didn’t try these dishes so you decide for yourself if you like them.

 

fenix baked eggs

Moroccan baked eggs. From Morocca

 

poached eggs fenix

Poached eggs on gluten free bread and the thickest hash browns this side of the Mississip

 

fenix melbourne

Incredible photo of eggs benedict (feat. manly blood orange smoothie)

 

Fenix on Urbanspoon

Fenix Cafe

680 Victoria Street, Richmond, VIC, 3121

Dexter Bar/Cafe, Clifton Hill

“What did Dexter Bar/Cafe say to the priest?

Nothing. Bar/Cafes are generally physical structures and hence cannot speak.”

My dining partner Eric the Discerning Llama with 90′s Hair tells me that joke every time we go to Dexter and quite frankly, I am sick of it. The only reason I put up with it is because I really love this place. In fact, I would regularly come here without him if it wasn’t for Clifton Hill being the home of Melbourne’s tight-knit llama community so he would find out sooner or later.

 

dexter cafe

Dexter's non-descript entrance makes non-descript things look descript

 

But just on this whole ‘Bar/Cafe’ thing. These two words should never appear in the same sentence, let alone sharing a slash. They are two very different beings and fusing them together is kind of like a guy having sex with a prostitute – it’s not how either of them wanted their lives turning out but it’s the way things are so it will have to do. This rule of avoiding Bar/Cafes, Bakery/Cafes, Restaurant/Bars has served me well in the past and was the reason I steered clear of Dexter for so long.

Does this mean you should drop your prejudices towards places with a slash in their name and give them a chance? Hell no. Have you ever eaten at a bakery/cafe? I have and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. And my worst enemy is a kiddie-fiddling neo-Nazi who eats puppies and steals his neighbours’ newspapers. I can’t remember where we met but I think it was some sort of a corporate team-building weekend. He has a lovely family.

If you can get a seat out the front of Dexter on a sunny day you feel like you’re transported into the middle of the owner’s friendship group. There’s always a fairly big group out the front and everyone knows each other and are having a really good time. So when Eric and I slid into the last couple of seats at the end of the table we did what all groups of 2 do when dominated by boisterous larger groups – we don’t say anything and occasionally stare at each other and make funny faces when someone in the big group loudly says something a bit risque. So between risque comments I found the time to order the Rueben sandwich.

I love the Ruebens here. I couldn’t be bothered Googling it but I am pretty sure the Rueben sandwich dates back to the Jewish delis in New York at some particular period in history. Probably post-war. Who knows. Probably no one. They typically consist of pastrami or corned beef, sauerkraut and pickles in some bread. At Dexter they have corned beef, sauerkraut, swiss cheese, and marie-rose (mixture of tomato sauce and mayonnaise) on rye. And they are simply the best goddamn sandwiches in the world. The rye bread is amazing and the corned beef tastes like love. It is all the more incredible as they cook everything at the bar in about 2 square metres of space. One word of warning though, if you order a whole heap of Ruebens at the same time like I did with some friends on separate occasion, there is a slight chance they might not be as good due to the kitchen space requirements. When I eat this sandwich in the sunshine with some good tea while trying to impress the ladies by pretending to read Dostoyevsky, I feel immeasurably happy.

 

rueben sandwich dexter

Rueben sandwich and Dostoyevsky

 

If you want a bit of time to yourself there is actually one better spot to sit than out the front and that is the window seat in the big back room. There is a semi-circular table there which is only attached to the wall and therefore you have to be extra vigilant to make sure your food doesn’t slide off it and onto the floor. People have to walk past this table to get to and from the toilets so you get to see people at their most vulnerable and hence you automatically become the coolest person in the room. I often also pretend to chew some gum just to tip the scales even more in my favour and it usually works. But that’s my thing. Sometimes you get a really cool person walk past and then I find loudly stretching seems to do the trick.

Just the other day Eric and I both ordered pork dishes and we obviously felt like a couple of legends. I ordered the Pork Belly Roll and Eric ordered the Pulled Pork with succotash on toast. Eric had a thing for the waitress so he painstakingly planned how he would order his dish and he asked me to laugh at his joke when the time came. I said OK because I thought it might make him move on from his Bakery/Cafe abomination of a joke. So the waitress asked for our orders and he pretended to pick up the menu for the first time, scrolled down the page and said “Suffering Succotash that looks good!” – pointing at the page. Just brutal. He looked at me for support but I would not be part of this. He looked at her in the hope she had one of those silent laughs. She didn’t. This was going to be a long lunch.

 

llama funny

"Suffering Succotash this looks good!"

 

dexter cafe melbourne

Waitress expecting better from Eric and Eric expecting better from me

 

The pork belly was delicioso. It was packed with coriander and some sort of glazing and it was really a bit Vietnamese, except for the turkish bread it was on. I tried some of Eric’s pulled pork and despite looking like tuna on toast it was really nice. It turns out succotash is just a corn and beans and not much else, but I don’t really think he cared considering he just ordered it for the joke.

 

pork belly roll

Pork Belly Roll

 

pulled pork with succotash

Pulled pork with succotash

 

Just lastly, their tea is awesome. Try the Colonille tea (black tea with some vanilla).As a tea drinker you start to realise that nearly every tea company has the word ‘tea’ in their name as some sort of a horrible pun. AffiniTEA for example. This one is called SerendipiTEA. Get it, it’s a pun. I always picture some retired husband and wife who decided to start a lifestyle tea business and the husband reading the paper and going to the wife “Hey Bev, I’ve thought of the best name for our new business…SerendipiTEA! And we can spell it with TEA instead of TY!” And then they are so excited, but now a little upset because now the fun part is over and they have to go about filling out the paperwork and getting an ABN.

I love pretty much everything about Dexter so I give it 8.5 poorly-designed tables out of 10.

 

 

 

Dexter Bar/Cafe

123 Queens Parade, Clifton Hill.

Dexter Bar & Cafe on Urbanspoon

Tango Cafe, Toorak

Is it wrong to order baked eggs from the same cafe every workday?

Ahh the age-old question posed by Socrates on his deathbed all those years ago. Just as true today, my friend. Just as true today.

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socrates

Just a man who loved his baked eggs

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I go to Tango Cafe almost every weekday for my first lunch of the day, barring any unforeseen events such as having to do the job that I am paid to do. Mum tells me that I am too young and too handsome to have a routine but to be honest, in Toorak if you start being careless with your lunch venue choice you will end up sitting in the carpark with a $15 focaccia that you physically have to open to see if it contains any ingredients.

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Toorak focaccia

A Toorak focaccia

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If it was up to me, I wouldn’t ever eat in Toorak Village. I would catch a tram up to South Yarra and eat somewhere semi-decent, surrounded by young women talking about a Flo Rida’s new album and young men talking about who has the best barb-wire tattoo in the group. But my stomach is a harsh mistress, and it physically cannot wait for the 12 o’clock opening times of the places in South Yarra. So unfortunately I had to settle for the best cafe in Toorak Village, which is like choosing the best-looking girl at a book-signing.

When I first started working here I set out to give the people of Toorak a chance. I thought surely it can’t be as bad as people make it out, surely there’s more to this suburb than snooty old people shuffling around with jumpers tied around their neck. But with every fake tan, every stretched old face resembling Tom Cruise’s mask in Vanilla Sky, every mention of the word Portsea, every time I heard a lady sharing a name with that of a dog (Miff, Flick, Poppy, Muff, Floss, Bob Morrison), I came to believe that Toorak is the worst place in the world. It’s a beautiful suburb, but its residents exist in their own little botoxed cocoon, never leaving to interact with decent society (thank god).

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tango cafe

Muff waiting for Floss to arrive for breakfast

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Tango is the place where the who’s who of Toorak tend to gather and discuss the latest exploits of their respective domestic staff. And where the old ducks go to swan over the Argentinian co-owner, Diego. Despite the notable disadvantage of speaking with a foreign accent in Toorak, he seems to have struck a chord with the widowed female clientele.

After a few weeks of painfully awkward banter with the staff I finally got to the stage of ordering the “Usual”, comprising Tango Eggs and an Earl Grey tea. The Tango Eggs is a baked eggs dish containing a couple of eggs cooked in some sort of a tomatoey sauce with avocado, mint and a some balsamic vinegar if I’m not mistaken. It really is delicious. The eggs have once or twice been overcooked, which considering the number of times I have ordered them, really is pretty impressive.

tango eggs

Tango eggs. Accompanied by a Toorak focaccia

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My regular dining partner, Eric the Discerning Llama with 90′s Hair, ordered the Japanese Rolled Omelette. This is a new addition to the menu and when I saw it I was like “Oh no you didn’t. NO YOU DIDN’T.” I love japanese rolled omelette. But straying from the “Usual” means turning a knowing nod of the head into another painfully awkward conversation along the lines of “Oh no Tango Eggs today! The world must be ending LOL”, to which I would no doubt slam my fist on the table and storm out. So I got Eric to order it so I could try some.

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rolled omelette

"Japanese rolled omelette"

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omelette

Inside said omelette

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Ok, firstly it isn’t a Japanese rolled omelette. It is a regular, un-rolled omelette filled with spring onions, bean sprouts and chilli that is about as Japanese as the Japanese people in those 1950′s Elvis movies where he deals with those “mysterious men from the Orient”. It came with sweet chili sauce and was not too bad, but you definitely need to order some sides with it if you are to make it to second lunch. By the way, it’s about $15-16 not including extras. For those from Toorak, that’s about 1 hour’s butler pay.

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"The sweet chilli sauce felt like a poor attempt at salvaging the dish"

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I don’t drink coffee so I can’t comment on how good it is here. There are quite a few people here getting takeaways so it might be good. I hope that helps. From my experience in Toorak though, it seems like the default milk is skim milk and you have to ask especially for normal milk. Their tea is that Tea Drop crap. Tea drinkers among us shudder when we see that little wooden tray. Just awful. But at Tango they give you a tiny teddy with your tea, which is a nice touch, even if it isn’t the choc chip one.

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tango

"Did you hear that Floss bought her fondue set from one of those second hand stores?" "What do you expect from a Malvern girl hahaha"

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tango

Taken while Antiques Roadshow was on

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Overall, I don’t think it’s Tango’s fault that their customers are vapid, soulless ghosts. It’s a product of their location. After all that, I shudder to think what Toorak Village was like prior to Tango’s arrival and for that, I thank them.

Tango Cafe

475C Toorak Road, Toorak

Backstreet Cafe, Fitzroy

Friends know I’m all about airflow.

If I’m not stressing about my napkin being blown from the table then I’m just not myself. It keeps me focused and burns all the excess energy I have left over from not having a girlfriend.

Backstreet Cafe has amazing airflow, and they can control the amount of air flow they get with some sweet little door-like contraptions, which quite frankly made my heart smile.

 

backstreet bistro

Not a still napkin in the place

 

And when the napkin does eventually blow off the table I harness this state of readiness and catch it before it hits the ground, usually endearing myself to nearby strangers. And so it was to the soundtrack of ridiculously out of date compliments like  ”look out Allan Border!” that I began my meal at Backstreet Cafe.

Firstly, let’s get the name out of the way now. Backstreet Cafe. It’s pretty shit. It sounds like the name of a fictional cafe you have to write a business plan for in a university business subject. Granted the name of a cafe is not that important, but just texting it to my friends makes me feel a bit dirty.

You can tell it’s by the Birdman Eating guys, right down to the menu font and its penchant for baked eggs. Not to mention various press mentioning it’s by the Birdman Eating guys. I have noticed a few more fancy dishes creep into the Birdman specials of late and I guess Backstreet must be the outlet for them to unleash their inner Fancy Boy.

 

backstreet bistro

Backstreet is the fancy boy Birdman

 

Their rolls are really pretty damn good, I have to say. I’ve had the Herring Roll twice now and I really like it. You can smell it coming from miles away, which is what you want from herring. It comes with red onion and pickled cucumber which my dining partner Eric The Discerning Llama with 90s Hair thought offset the herring delightfully.

 

backstreet bistro

"I find nothing offsets the saltiness of herring quite like pickled cucumber"

 

Then it was time for the Salty Pork Belly Roll with green olive tapenade, as they say in the classics. This roll was goddamn delicious. Pork belly is the perennial golden boy of the food world, and is invariably the most popular item on any menu. It was just a good roll. No fancy foodie bullshit, no offsetting of flavours, no food sitting on a bed of something. It was just a really good roll.
Backstreet Bistro

Half a pork belly roll on the right, half a herring roll on the left

 

Just saying the following to the waitress made me feel like one of those middle-aged foodie couples with ‘crazy’ fluoro specs: “I’ll have the Morcilla, potato and horseradish terrine with apple compote, fried egg and green leaves, thanks”. I think it was the word “compote”.

 

backstreet bistro

The sides stood united in the shadow of the benevolent horseradish

 

I’ve never been a huge fan of taking bits of every bit of food on the dish and putting them together in some sort of unholy beast of flavours. A food frankenstein, if you will. But you really have to do that to get the most out of this one. By themselves the components of the dish are ok, but when you throw some of that apple “compote” and those bitter leaves into the fray it really takes things to a higher level (according to Eric). The horseradish – as always – was trying to get its fat head into every bite but you can control him with the sides. It was pretty much like Occupy Wall Street, with the horseradish being the 1% and the other ingredients being the 99%.

And finally, I decided to laugh in the face of the Global Financial Crisis and order the Duck Livers with some sort of stewed plum arrangement. It was on special so I am just going from the photo I took. This dish was like something that Gordon Gecko would’ve ordered at a high-powered lunch on Wall street with other corporate fat cats during the heady days of the 80s. I say this because rich dummies always order the fanciest things even if they don’t think it’s going to be any good. I had my first – and only – foie gras in Osaka at a hotel and it was amazing. Just one of the best things ever created. And so it was with some (well-founded, as it turns out) trepidation that I ordered the duck livers here. Just have a look at this.

 

backstreet bistro

"Never order a dish containing more livers than players on a baseball team" - Ancient Chinese proverb

 

I shudder to think how much this dish would’ve cost to produce. There were literally about 7-10 livers in this bowl, and I couldn’t finish it. Even though I had already eaten a roll, this would probably be too rich to finish even if it was the only thing you ate. Dad once told me (with unusual passion) “Charles, never, EVER leave more than 3 duck livers on the plate at the end of a meal”, so I didn’t. He is a wise old man, but Jesus sometimes I fail to see the logic in the things he says.

Backstreet – as the kids like to call it – also has a pretty sweet food cave downstairs near the toilets. It was a nice little discovery as stumbled to the bathroom to dispose of the liver I had wrapped in my napkin. I should mention that I ate the above dishes on 2 different days.

Backstreet Cafe

152 Kerr Street, Fitzroy

Backstreet Cafe on Urbanspoon

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