Cortille

When walking through this crazy cool café’s entrance, I couldn’t help feel like I was back in Melbourne.

A massive old school trailer is parked in the hallway, where they serve take away coffee and cake to eager beavers throughout the week.

A bit further in, there is a beautiful display cabinet of cakes and tasty morsels you can grab to go, or sit down and enjoy.

Then there’s this contraption. I assume it has something to do with coffee, perhaps a cold drip – comment below if you know what it does!

The Callebaut hot chocolate ($4.5) was quite good, not as chocolatey as I’ve had in some other places, but satisfying on a Sunday morning nonetheless.

I ordered the beef burger, Tabasco chipotle, mayonnaise, American mustard, iceberg, thick shortcut bacon, pickled red onion, Edam cheese on The Good Loaf Bakery brioche ($16.5), despite being completely stuffed from the sheer amount of food we had to sample the day before. To this day, I’m still not sure why I did that (it was probably the brioche), when there were so many other tempting items on the menu, but there you go. It was pretty good. I really enjoyed the strangely fried cheese biscuit type thing, and while the burger wasn’t that sloppy, the flavours came together quite well.

A friend opted for the beautiful house made granola muesli, poached pear, granny’s apple, natural yoghurt, strawberry compote ($12.5), which could vie with some of Melbourne’s best presented breakfast birchers. She assured me it was pretty darn great.

Another friend got the Soft shell prawn taco, red cabbage slaw, guacamole, bitternut prawn crackers ($17.5) which I eyed with much envy when it was placed on the table. The prawns looked plump and juicy and there was just enough sauce to cover the handfuls of red cabbage.

The thing I would return for however, are those waffles. They dared us and we accepted the Canadian maple, thick shortcut bacon, caramel ice cream, banana, caramel popcorn ($16.5). While I prefer my waffles a tad crispier, the sheer amount of goodies on the plate more than made up for this. The caramel ice-cream was a joy to eat with the bacon, and the maple and caramel popcorn was just divine. I’m drooling. BRB.

TL;DR A Melbourne standard brunch in beautiful Bendigo!

Adriano Zumbo Pâtissier

When I heard Zumbo was opening a store in Melbourne town I was a keen bean, I would buy all the macarons I thought, I would buy all their cakes, chocolate and ice-cream I thought. It hasn’t really been that way, but that isn’t a reflection on Zumbo – I’m still a fan. I go there when I want to be punched in the face by sweet, or try his crazy-cool macaron flavours like peking duck or the Pie + Sauce (beef pie flavoured filling and zesty tomato sauce gel inside a pastry-like macaron shell. Yeah, that tasted really weirdbad). No-one really does experimental left-of-centre flavours like Zumbo and he will always hold the title of boundary-pusher in my mind.

On this occasion I picked up two cakes:

Pars the Strawberry Gran - Strawberry & white chocolate mousse, frangipane, parsley jelly and granola.

The Par's ($9.0) beautiful light cake base was great accompanied with the strawberry mousse. The parsley gel was definitely made of parsley and had a distinct ‘green’ flavour but together the combination worked. The granola was added for crunch but seemed to have absorbed some of the cake’s moisture and thus was a little chewy.

Aussie Kids - White chocolate cremeaux, flourless chocolate sponge, banana jelly, blackberry marshmallow, brownie, weet-bix crunch & a blackberry sphere.

I didn’t enjoy Aussie Kids ($9.0) as much as the Pars. The flourless chocolate base was quite bitter and not sweet enough, whilst the blackcurrent mousse didn’t lift the cake up as much as I hoped. There was a crunchy weet-bix chocolate texture which worked well, but on the other hand the banana jelly didn’t come through enough. This cake felt like a shambles, but the one redeeming factor was the Blackberry Sphere; IT POPPED JUICE AND THE JELLY SHELL WAS SO NICE. Amazing. See, it’s the little things.

TL;DR Check out Zumbo for the novelty.

The Pour Kids

Saturdays are fantastic days to make plans for and have them all fall through on account of once again not realising how inherently lazy you are and how thoroughly you will sleep in. Yes, once again, I find myself having brunch after midday one rainy weekend morning. Saying brunch when really, I mean breakfast, makes it slightly less embarrassing.

Walking to the cafe, we pass a tall, svelte woman who is proudly wearing a badge that proclaims she has lost 26kgs so far and further implores us to ask her how she did it. I really, really, really want to stop and ask her how she did it, but that would be playing into The Man's game, and furthermore, I am getting dizzy with hunger, so we let her swan by.

The Pour Kids is tucked just off Glenferrie Road, opposite the Coles supermarket parking lot in Malvern. It's a cosy joint with brightly coloured walls, decorated with pictures of impoverished children, or something. Either way, it's nice. 

I 'start my day' with some freshly-squeezed orange juice, that is delightfully rind-y and frothy. I think of Nutribullet infomercials. I think of my favourite infomercial of the moment, the Hot Shapers. I think of how I was supposed to wake up and gym this morning. A lot of thinking is going on.

Not made from a Superfood Nutrition Extractor, but just as good I would guess.

Being that we haven't gymmed yet today, I am of course inappropriately hungry, so we do that thing we always do and order three dishes for two people. When all three meals arrive, I try to snarf down the one that is most easily disposed, so that people won't stare at the greedy diners trying to hide their array of food. My continual shoving of sandwich into mouth is doing much to dissuade the starers, because I am a very discreet food-shover. Very.

The knuckle sandwich, which is a lot better in your mouth than on your mouth - $11

'The knuckle sandwich' is this thing of slow-cooked beef knuckle, which I had to firstly confirm with my dining partner wasn't going to be bone-filled and gristly because I am literal like that, with cornichons, mustard cress and butter on a ciabatta roll. It is tangy and beef-melty and crunchy and lipsmackingly delicious - except I don't smack my lips, because no. Last time, I had the 'This little piggy' sandwich and it's safe to say, these kids know how to make a sanger.

A toasty with the most-y - $14.50

This is just sexy and makes me feel immediately inadequate and undeserving, except that's a lie, because I know I deserve food, just like those poor children. Described as French-toasted brioche, with berry compote and vanilla cream, it somehow looks like an even larger serve than the last time I had it, and just like the last time, it also remains unfinished. It is drowned in berry juices and syrup and is therefore quite soggy, but there are sugar crystals atop the glorious blob of vanilla bean cream, and two thick slices of brioche, and it's filling and generous and not unlike the best kind of worst love. Every good girl needs this just once in her lifetime.

Duck for cover - $16.50

And now, for the main event, the pièce de résistance, the gnocchi. The gnocchi. The GNOCCHI, for BREAKFAST. (Because there's no point pretending anymore, it's 12.45pm, and I am eating breakfast.) Any place willing to serve me gnocchi for breakfast will serve me for life. Congratulations, impoverished little folks - you are no longer impoverished. There is so much beauty on this plate, what with the Swiss chard, the Italian-style pork sausage, the fried egg, and the most gorgeous thing of all, the burnt butter gnocchi. I take a moment to have a moment.

...

If things were to go to plan, I would probably eat this for breakfast every day. The gnocchi is exceptionally soft and fluffy and potato-y, with a scattering of salt that sings in my mouth. It's what I imagine eating potato cloud pillows would be like. They are much too good to share and I rue my decision to be a decent dining partner each time someone steals one of these nuggets from my plate. The Swiss chard is drizzled with oil but I'm still satisfied that it fulfils my greens requirement; the egg oozes runny yolk and that's all we really want our eggs to do in the end; the pork sausage is inherently meaty and savoury and fatty in a way that most certainly won't help me in the long-run, but seeing as I'm way past caring, I happily continue on my merry way.

Eventually, it seems, I'm going to be the one not wearing a badge, but people will be able to tell I've gained 26kgs so far, and I will not be imploring people to ask me how I did it, because the answer will be the gnocchi. The afterlife will be paved with this gold, I'm sure of it.


TL;DR - Get the gnocchi. If you, for some weird reason, don't like taking the best free advice of ever, get a sandwich.

Oscar Cooper

I'm calling it, jaffles are the new burger. 

...

No? No one else? Okay, haha jokes! Jaffles are probably going to come and go and we'll all realise we used to own a jaffle-maker and have the ability to make these toasted sandwiches at home. 

I might need to go buy a jaffle-maker.

So, one Saturday, we're making our way to breakfast, at 12.10pm no less, because who said breakfast has to be enjoyed in the AM? Tucked behind Chapel St lies Oscar Cooper, a busy little cafe that boasts all-day jaffles - "Damn Fine" ones at that. 

Despite being jam-packed, we were seated after waiting only five minutes, so that's one point for you, Oscar. The day's jaffles, the flavours of which are listed on a wall, looked enticing and we had our heart set on one featuring pulled pork and jalapenos, but alas, 'NA' was listed next to it. Nothing makes one's stomach sadder than the letters N and A next to a menu item. Not 'Appy (Jan).

I started with a Golden Pash juice, which contained pineapple, apple, orange and passionfruit. The passionfruit seeds lodged themselves in the straw upon first sip and proceeded to make the juice unnecessarily harder to consume. Oscar, you might want to look into investing in some wider straws. The juice itself, when it made its way into my mouth, tasted overwhelmingly of pineapple, with a hint of passionfruit. 

Golden Pash juice - $5

Of the five or six jaffles on offer, two were listed as NA, so we settled for the chicken, chives and gruyere cheese. There were a bunch of other very appetising-sounding items on the menu that were on the short list, but we didn't want to overdo it for breakfast, so we only also ordered the Oscar's Benedict. Oh, and the wagyu burger. Because when my preferred item is Not 'Appening, I bloody well get a burger for breakfast to make up for it.

Chicken, chives and gruyere cheese jaffle - $8.50

The jaffle was nicely toasted, although compared to other ones we've sampled recently, the outside did not appear to have been slathered in butter and crisped to lovely perfection. I prefer the artery-clogging version.

The filling was piping hot and contained a moderate amount of cheese and chives, but could have done with a smidge more chicken. While pleasant enough to eat, it reminded me how easily this could be replicated at home. Mental note to stop at K-Mart on the way home. Nostalgic Afternoon!

The Oscar's Benedict came as two poached eggs on a potato roesti, with smashed avo and tangy hollandaise sauce, to which we also added berkshire bacon. Because why not?

Oscar's Benedict, with berkshire bacon - $18

Strangely enough, I have steered clear of hollandaise sauce most of my life because of fear of the unknown. It somehow never occurred to me to try some and so, with slight trepidation, I had my first hollandaise sauce.

It was not to my liking. I won't be repeating that experience.

The potato roesti was also not to my liking, being not of the crisp version, but of the soggy, lukewarm and limp. Disappointing. This item sounded a lot better on paper than in execution. Not Again. (Ever.) [It should be noted, my breakfast partner enjoyed this very much.]

American style wagyu burger - $18.50

And then, the final breakfast item arrived and I was so pleased to see fries that I started devouring them like they were crack. You would think I hadn't yet eaten that morning. The burger came with bacon, Californian cheddar, pickles, tomato, lettuce and a smear of some sauce, which might have been mayonnaise or some variant thereof.

The iceberg lettuce slice was a sad, limp little thing and seemed out of place, like it had been added as an afterthought. The bun was almost toasted too well and there was not enough of the sauce (or spread?), which would've added some needed moisture to each bite. However, the wagyu patty itself was very good, seasoned well in itself, with visible chopped onions and herbs scattered throughout, and was a lovely pink on the inside. Paired with the melted cheddar, bacon and pickle, it was almost enough. Perhaps, Oscar, you might want to re-think the lettuce and sauce. Non, Ami?

Overall, a decent outing with a few little hiccups, but I'd be willing to return and try some of the other menu items. And some more jaffles seeing as I never went out to get that jaffle-maker, because, well. Never Acquired.

And seriously, if jaffles do become the next burger, I called it first.


TL;DR - Try a jaffle, provided it's available, and take a gander through the menu.

The Tea Cosy - Sydney

Trips to Sydney in my adulthood have always meant only one thing: food. (It also goes without saying that trips to Sydney always mean something else: fat.) While Melbourne, no doubt, is an established foodie’s wet dream, going to Sydney solely to pig out on carefully selected and researched items, one right after the other, does tend to colour the latter city more flavoursome, more mouth-watering, and altogether more foodie-ful, particularly in hindsight. It’s as if Sydney is nothing but a giant, delicious smorgasbord. (For tourists and the like, Sydney is probably more than just food porn. Pity the fools.)

The most recent trip kicked off with a hike to The Rocks to score me some scones from a twee little house-shop, the Tea Cosy. These scones had been on a list leftover from my last visit and they were supposed to be pretty damn good bits of baked dough – like Nana used to make! Even though I never had a ‘Nana’! We showed up in the early afternoon on a surprisingly warm autumn day, and walked into a very dark, slightly stuffy townhouse, the front part of which appeared to be some sort of gift shop – I don’t know, I was there for scones. The back part housed the tea room: a kitchen, a dining room, and shelves of owl-shaped tea cosies. 

Squinting in the dark to read the menu, we decided to get Devonshire Tea ($12.50 per person) and opted to get one of each scone for our basket – plain, cherry and almond, currant, cheddar and thyme. Our jam selections were apricot (even though I urged The Om to pick fig and ginger) and paw paw, lime and passionfruit (which I had been eyeing on the menu for about six months, no lie). Being that the day was unseasonably warm, we bypassed the traditional hot tea and opted for the iced varieties: mixed berry, and the lemongrass and ginger with apple. It was then that we were notified the power had gone out, which at least means they don’t usually sit their customers in the dark and un-airconditioned. 

…

But you can still make me some scones, right?

We took a seat out back, where we could enjoy fresh air, natural sunlight and delightful Irish signage, which we proceeded to loudly mangle the pronunciation of, because we’re great fun for diners all around us. Here, one of the waitresses came to say that with no power, they could not produce the lemongrass and ginger with apple iced tea. Could we please pick another? We supplemented with the lemon lime chiller, which, like the mixed berry, has a lemon tea base, while the lemongrass has a herbal base. Perhaps the herbal base teas have to be electronically blitzed or something – I don’t know, bring on the scones, the ones like (my imaginary) Nana used to make!

The drinks were fine. Just fine. (In hindsight, it was a taste of things to come. Hardy-har-har, so punny.)

 Lemon lime chiller; mixed berry - $4

And then, the power outage took away our scones. It took. Away. THE SCONES.

Actually, it just took away our choice. We were informed they could only make plain ones now, so we’d get four plain. I was slightly disappointed in my imaginary Nana, so I garbled some more Irish sounds to make myself feel better. When our Devonshire Tea finally arrived, I was ready to nom them scones up, but being a ‘foodie’, I had to first take my requisite photos. (I’m also a ‘breathie’, in case you’re interested.)  

The scones were pleasantly crusty on the outside and decently fluffy on the inside, kind of like the opposite of me. I am, however, dusted with a fine coating of icing sugar just like these were. It just seeps from my pores, au naturale like that. 

Smeared with cream and jam, the much-waited for scones made for a perfectly fine snack. They were light and tasty and were a good vehicle for the accompaniments, which I suppose is quite important for a scone, in the grand scheme of Devonshire teas. Did they blow my mind? No. Have I had better? Yes. Were they like Nana used to make? I’ll never know. Would I return? Probably not. Might I find myself in the vicinity on a day when there are no power outages to interfere with their output? I'd put my money and my mouth elsewhere.

And while the paw paw, lime and passionfruit jam sounded awfully enticing in theory, it was rather subdued and one-noted (mild passionfruit) and altogether a disappointing choice. Apricot jam was simply apricot jam – no better, no worse. Fig and ginger, I regret not having you. 

TL; DR - It just goes to show, not even the most well-planned food adventure can be without their moments of just fine. The Tea Cosy, essentially, is just that: just fine.