Best Breakfasts of Melbourne (Part 3)

So finally got to Cafe Sweethearts on Sunday - they sensibly close only at 3pm so breakfast lasts until then. :) Just down the road from the South Melbourne Market they get very busy at peak times, but at 2pm I had the pick of the tables, and settled down outside in the shade of a convenient tree (no more sunburn for me, please).

Eggs Forestiere - 2 poached eggs, bacon, mushrooms, hollandaise, toasted muffin - has been my choice since first coming here. The eggs were nicely cooked, the mushrooms delicious, the hollandaise very good indeed, the serving size very good... Only the bacon let the side down a bit - perhaps I've been spoilt by the upper echelons of superbness but this bacon lacked much character. So not THE BEST but certainly very, very good indeed!

Oh, but if you like pancakes (who doesn't like pancakes?????) then this IS the place for you...

http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2005/02/cafe-sweethearts-south-melbourne.html

Lobster parade

After gymming and steaming on Saturday morning, I met a friend for a swim, part of my ongoing process: "lets learn how to breath out underwater and so overcome my fear of drowning long enough to get from one end of the pool to the other." The weather forecast wasn't fantastic so we were going to go to an indoor pool (laconically named in memory of the only Australian prime minister to drown, such is life) but changed our minds at the last minute and ended up at the Prahran Pool. It's an outdoor 50m pool - very lovely setting for somewhere so close to the hustle and bustle. Actually part of the attraction had been my friend's assertion that there'd be a bit of hustle and bustle at the pool - apparently two sides fill up with families and the other two sides with gay boys (someone else called it the Pansy Patch!). But there was practically no-one there! Not too much of a worry - I'm still a bit embarrassed by my lack of swimming ability and was able to struggle up and down several times only slightly self-consciously.

We sat on the grass for a little while before my last quick swim before showering and dressing. The pale sunlight was gently warming despite the slight cool breeze. The lapping sound of water and the swirling blue of the pool were mesmerising and time seemed to stand still. "We'd better be careful," I said to my friend, "this is probably misleading - the UV's probably high and if we stay too long we could get sunburnt." We didn't stay too long.

I woke up on Sunday morning with brilliant red shoulders, shining like an electric lobster. Ouch.

Exhibition: Living Proof - Gillian Wearing

Walking into ACCA (The Australian Centre for Contemporary Art, South Melbourne) is like venturing into a hall of mirrors, once you've got past the rusty hulk of the building itself. Definitely an otherworld, set aside from the 'normal' world outside. Is this what is quite intended? - never mind, it's exciting architecture that compliments Juliana Engberg's exciting programme of exhibitions. There's usually something of extreme interest on show.

So with Gillian Wearing's retrospective, Living Proof. One of the so-called YBAs ("Young British Artists" - Charles Saatchi's marketing phrase) she shows here that her work has real depth and feeling, simultaneously appealing and appalling us. As Ms Engberg said on Sunday, her work is more like photographic and video records of performances, rather than photography or video as art medium itself. And her performers are real people, interacting with her and with us, confessing and revealing too much of themselves and thus revealing our own lives to ourselves too.

Of her clever, technically precise and yet deeply felt work, I particularly liked 'Snapshots', a remarkably convincing "living photograph album" that gently but persistently questions personal and social histories and viewpoints. A revelatory exhibition.

Film: Hard-Boiled

Fast-punch-action-thriller-pow! segueing into slow-motion contemplative sections (cue mournful jazz) then tense-set-up-erupting-in-epic-shoot-outs with slow-motion contemplative details... and so on. Fun and with captivating central performances and full of interesting little details (some reminiscent of Blade Runner? - origami, smoky jazz, identity abiguity), the general silliness is held at bay by our eager collusion in a big suspension of disbelief.

In a rare Cinemateque error, what appeared to be a startlingly radical flashback structure turned out to be an interchange of a couple of reels of film! I'd guess the cans were mislabelled :)

Play: Babes in the Wood

Another Malthouse production directed by Michael Kantor. Another interesting theatrical experience, with a wonderful Anna Tregloan set and exciting cast, and a literate script by Tom Wright set both in a mythical Federation outback and in inner city now. And yet, and yet...

Did you notice the word "interesting" there? Definitely not emotionally engaging. And the cast, despite some attempts at breaking out, didn't have the impact that could reasonably be expected, either individually or as an ensemble. Rather, the production plays like an elaborately realised marionette theatre: wonderfully stylised, full of auteur-ial detail and consideration, but also somehow flat. Not even the "Look behind you"s, boos and hisses could connect across the divide between stage and audience.

X didn't like it, of course. He left at interval, which was commented on in surprise by the gentleman next to me and the couple on his side (we're a friendly bunch, us Malthouse subscribers!). So he missed the second half where the excuse for a plot was largely dropped, leaving us a phantasmagoria of atmospheric and amusing scenes, greatest of which was Eddie Perfect's song 'tribute' to Steve Irwin: "die doing what you love, love the things that will kill you" - "let the stingray of love into your heart", accompanied, of course, by a ballet of dancing stingrays...

[X's 'intolerance' of things that he's not enjoying is actually rather sensible and good: why waste your life on things that aren't giving you what you need or expect? Would that he had the same attitude during our relationship; it would have saved the last year from becoming so destructive and unpleasant and given us both an extra year of our lives!]

Tupperwear(TM) Party

I went to my first-ever Tupperwear party last night. Admittedly it was cancelled not long beforehand, but a couple of us turned up for a cup of tea nevertheless and turned it into a party anyway! Alongside lots of chat, we demoed/tested various models from the catalogue and I ended up buying some fridge containers that prolong the life of your veges...

My reasons were twofold: with my ever-so-busy social life in the evenings I sometimes am a little tardy in leaving vegetables in the fridge, only to be disappointed when I go to stir-fry or microwave them a couple of weeks later; plus all the useful plastic containers I'm currently using are actually not mine, and presumably will be taken away by X when he finds a permanent place to live :(

The night was spiced up a bit too by the eventual appearance of the Tupperwear lady himself - a nice guy from Perth who's been doing this part-time for over five years and seems to thoroughly enjoy himself, as well as being very popular with the ladies. He's keen on being popular with the guys himself, so it was nice meeting him. :)

Despite the expense: Long Live Tupperwear! Well, it will anyway - my Mum's wedding presents (1964) are still going strong!!

Best Breakfasts of Melbourne (Part 2)

On Saturday, after a long gym/swim/sauna session in St Kilda, I was hungrily wanting some brunch and wondering where to bestow my presence (and money). So cycled down to Il Fornaio (Acland St, off Fitzroy St), scene of good breakfasts of yesteryear. But, unfortunately, the time nazis had struck: 2:02pm is past the 2pm cut-off time for eggs, and any flexibility would be compromising their Very High Standards I guess. So, round the corner to Pelican (Fitzroy St) but, alas, they also finish at 2pm (and, considering that it was five past two by now, I can forgive their, ahem, inflexibility).

My plan was then to cycle up to South Melbourne to Cafe Sweethearts and hope for the best, but by the time I got to Middle Park it was starting to rain lightly. Thinking that a poached egg in the mouth is worth two on the plate (? - anyway, not in the hand as it gets messy when your hands are firmly on the handlebars) I turned off and returned to Mart 130.

Straight to a table, quick ordering (poached eggs no. 2 with avocado, mushrooms, bacon & hollandaise, and a mango lassi) and reasonably fast service. The brekky was lovely - BUT - one of my eggs was snotty/watery. Undercooked. And this isn't the first time here, either. Now, I'm very ready to acknowledge the difficulty of cooking two perfect poached eggs, but isn't that one of the main reasons for going to a professional to do it?? I hope the standards aren't slipping here, as Mart130 is still a great place to spend some time (and not too much of your hard-earned cash).

Sunday came and the plan had been to go up to North Fitzroy to The Green Grocer before heading across to the Nova for a freebie screening of a new French film at 11am. Predictably I ditched that and opted for a take-away coffee from Tiamo's to take into the film... But the film was suddenly cancelled due to complete-Sunday-morning-itis confusion at the Nova, so I headed across to The Green Grocer anyway!

On an awkward corner on St Georges Road near Piedimontes, you pass the organic fruit & veges before getting to where the action is. I scored a table immediately (one of the benefits of being single, I'm discovering!) but the wait for the food was a bit too long - nearly 45 minutes (althought they did apologise to everyone, and I don't remember this being such a problem previously). The poached eggs/spinach/mushrooms/bacon looked rather small and unappealing when it did arrive - but tasted magnificent. It was quite an effort to eat it slowly enough to make it last. What looked dry and shrivelled turned out to be moist and full of flavour - perhaps one of the distinguishing hallmarks of organic produce? The toast was great too.

On checking-out at the front counter I studiously avoided eye-contact with the home made marshmallow squares: these delicious melt-in-the-mouthers have to be tasted to be believed. Not suitable for toasting in front of an open fire (too good) - leave that to the leathery commercial variety.

http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2005/02/green-grocer-north-fitzroy.html

Now, as a bonus, a third breakfast - this morning, a weekday. After bootcamp a few of us often have a coffee and sometimes something to eat round the corner from the torture ground at Degani@Botanica, Middle-Of-Nowhere, Swan St, Richmond. Although it's a bit of an atmosphere-challenged barn, it's very convenient and friendly. This morning I hesitantly tried the poached eggs on toast with avocado relish - wonderful! Properly cooked eggs (take note, Mart) with delicious avocado/tomato/fetta stuff on their excellent toast. Adding a latte, only $9! I'll be back, as they say.

DVD: Hellboy

What a silly film! Whilst quite impressive in many aspects of its production design, the plot, characterisations and situations were a combination of derivative, unbelievable (even with as much suspension of disbelief as possible) and stupid, or all three! But there's a certain amount of free-wheeling charm that made me watch it through to the end. But I can't say I wasn't disappointed, as I've been looking forward to getting to see Guillermo del Toro's films for ages (Chronos, The Devil's Backbone). Ron Perlman was kinda cute, though!

Film: A Canterbury Tale

I love the work of The Archers, the writing-directing team of Pressburger and Powell that worked as maverick outsiders within the British film system in the 1940s-50s. Their stylised films (emotionally as well as visually) bucked the mainstream (kitchen sinks, costume escapism, unthinking patriotism, etc) and produced a highly-charged mixture that approached a 'gesamtkunstwerk' ("total art work") seeing deeply into the British psyche whilst also creating something rich and strange.

But this is the second time that I've dozed off in A Canterbury Tale, towards the end, therefore not quite understanding how things got from 'there' to 'there'. But the journey that I've travelled on with these pilgrims has been highly enjoyable - plus there's a killer jump-cut at the beginning, representing temporal and psychological distance, rivalling (and inspiring?) Kubrick's famous bone/weapon-to-spaceship in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Film: Live Flesh

With its beautiful name, Carne Tremula, I was looking forward to seeing this film. I hadn't realised its position in the Almodovar canon, so was expecting a fun romp; I saw a magnificent human drama full of compassion, colour and life. It is perhaps the film that starts Almodovar's latest period of a fully realised vision of total cinema - full of the breath of life and the tragedies and beauties that go with it.

Film: High Heels

I had seen this when it first came out and was a little disappointed. Maybe I'm generally less critical or my standards have dropped, but I was pleasantly surprised seeing it again. A great 'middle period' Almodovar, it's silliness is very apparent but the deepening of warmth and affection to the actresses is very pleasurable to watch. The wonderful Marisa Paredes brings a dimension of believability to the film that the central conceit around 'Lethal' takes away! (you'll have to watch it yourself!)

My First Hangover (TM)

This charming introduction to the wonders of the adult world comes in powder pink or baby blue to match gender stereotypes, and it brought to you by:
- Wilkhahn Christmas drinks at Gingerboy (1 glass champagne, 1.5 white wine, 1 red wine)
- Xenodochium at The Order of Melbourne (1 gin and tonic)
- Melbourne Card Christmas drinks at Docklands (1 gin and tonic)
- Xenodochium again (another G&T? - I seem to lose track here, and at the time didn't realise that I hadn't had dinner either...)

Film: Pepi, Luci, Bom y otras chicas del monton

Hmmm. Pepi, Luci, Bom was Almovodar's first film, made 'guerrilla-style' on the streets of newly-democratic but conservative Madrid. Carmen Maura's teenage heiress (she was 35 at the time and almost looks it!) gets into all manner of scrapes, some of which are quite funny. But generally it's a curio, and mainly for Almodovar completists (which, um, includes me...)

Film: All About My Mother

This is one of my very favorite films. What more can I say?

The first 15min or so are the cinematic equivalent of a perfect short story: when has the special love between a mother and son been shown with such palpable force and gentleness? What follows is wonderful too. The loving depiction of the various types of 'woman' in the picture is one of the film's greatest treasures, reaching its height in the scene of the four central characters sitting talking on Manuela's sofa. My only problem is the depiction of Lola, which I find unconvincing, the only stain on a film that grows in my appreciation the more I see it.

Film: What Have I Done To Deserve This?

In a strange way this is possibly Almodovar's most 'realistic' film. Although the plot and characters appear extraordinarily outlandish, the film's style, reflecting the tenement surroundings, is lacking the outrageous colourations and stylisations of his later films. However, Carmen Maura is wonderful as the put-upon wife and mother, who sells one of her sons to a paedophile dentist and eventually uses a joint of meat to... Well, that would be giving the plot away!

Film: Kika

This bright, colourful, highly formalised film (even to the final shoot-out) is great fun, though not peak Almodovar. Recommended to those with an adventurous taste or to anyone who's enjoyed one of his films in the past. Ever-optimistic Kika weathers various storms, some created by her own irresponsible behaviour, some created by forces beyond her control (including her joyously sadistic director!). Sex and death have rarely been so upbeat.

Film: Women of the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

I saw this in 1988 when it was first released. It was my first exposure to Pedro Almodovar's films. I loved it. I saw most (if not all) of his earlier films in the next year or so...

Watching it nearly 20 years later, I could enjoy it all over again almost as if fresh. And the pleasure was augmented by the sheer joy of the audience around me, a communal experience - this was similar in all the Amodovar screenings at ACMI this weekend: a quality crowd pleaser.

Carmen Maura, in her last performance for Almodovar until this year (what happened there?) is the centre of this whirling, exhilerating film. A boyish, and very 80s, Antonio Banderas is geeky (and not gay, unlike his earlier Almodovar roles). The wonderfully fish-faced Rossy de Palma and the cheeky grandmother Chus Lamprieve (both regulars with the director) help move things along.

Can you have too much of a Good Thing?...

*** ! VIVO ALMODOVAR ! ***

Phew! I knew that I was going to shout that from the rooftops at some point. I've just come out of seven Spanish films in four days at ACMI, directed by the master of outrageous soap opera with depth, Pedro Almodovar. It sampled all stages of his career:
- his early punk period, clumsy plot-less shockfests of sex, drugs and anti-establishment mannerisms (police, judges, the Church);
- his middle period of whacky, stylised, sexy and implausable but fun farces;
- his 'mature' style of beautifully realised characters circling around each other in improbable but delicious plots, with seamless integration of music, sets, clothes and photography.

Can you tell I'm a fan?

I'll post individual comments on the films...

Moderate Impact

[I'm going to tread cautiously here, as I don't know what our new masters, the Googlesphere, will allow...]

Dropping into my local music Megastore the other day, I stood at a listening post and listened to some of the new CDs on offer. Recently in the UK I'd been exposed to the latest singles by Robbie Williams and Justin Timberlake, and to Lily Allen's two singles, so I explored their albums a bit.

I usually like Robbie's music - it's fun, and given an edge because I have a bit of a revolted fascination in him: his self-destructive talent, alternately posturing show-off and gooey-eyed-cutie. I don't 'get' his new single, really, though it's OK - very 'Madonna-in-her-least-likeable-electronica-mode' perhaps...

I'm a bit of a closet fan of Justin. He's the bad-boy-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks that's kissing your sister on the couch but still making eyes at you. Even when he's silly (boom box attempt at the end of Rock Your Body) he's somehow endearing. And he's done some very decent videos - Cry Me A River being a favourite (very architectural). And his latest single is catchy, interesting and with a Gattaca*-inspired video that's great in a sub-James Bond way!

But the revelation is Lily. Her fun, infectious, feel-good songs are actually dark and grim underneath their upbeat surfaces. Nice contrast, nice videos too. Hmm, shall I buy it - or maybe I can convince X** to buy it and then iPod it from his computer...?

But what surprised me was the 'Moderate Impact' label on the CDs. Justin sings about "motherf-ckers" and Lily complains in the first line about her ex "f-cking that girl next door". Perhaps the only remaining option to boost your label into High Impact is to use "c-nt"?? (now the most taboo word in English, apart from the phrase "yes, I do have a gun in my bag" at the airport which gives you a visa-free trip to Guantanamo...)

* I've always had a thing about Jude Law...
** The Ex, of course

Best Breakfasts of Melbourne (Part 1)

The weekend before last I had the best poached eggs in the universe, I think, at Bistrot d'Orsay in the city (at the Athenaeum in Collins St). Opposite the Regent, it's a popular place for pre-show meals & drinks, however at midday on a Saturday I was the only person there for a late breakfast. But the eggs!... Florentine (with spinach & hollandaise on toasted muffin) with an extra of bacon - everything was perfect, with the hollandaise particularly lovely, not overpowering in taste or richness and with a subtle lemony zing. The spinach wasn't too salty either, a common problem. And the eggs were neither solid nor snotty!

See the Breakfast Blog for another opinion:
http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2005/12/bistrot-dorsay-melbourne.html


Last Saturday I treated myself to the famous coddled egg toasty at Pearl, in the bar/cafe part of the posh restaurant at the bottom end of Church St, Richmond. In a little box of fried bread, bits of egg are nestled under a cap of a poached (I guess) egg, itself topped with a mustardy sauce and roe - fish eggs that pop in the mouth when eaten. While really wonderful, it's a bit precious and the sauce isn't as heavenly as a well-made hollandaise - I guess I'm just a traditional guy. But I did finish off with one of their muffins - spectacular melt-in-the-mouthy items, different flavours each time. If you're going to be evil food-wise, do it in style!

http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2005/07/pearl-richmond.html


And then on Sunday a friend and I went to the place-of-the-moment, Mart130. Mart is, of course, 'tram' backwards and this is a conversion of the old Middle Park railway station building, now light rail stop. In fact, trams have never stopped here... but I digress. It's deservedly popular, with dog-friendly tables on the platform, a 'cosy' dining hall (in the old waiting room?) and a generous back terrace overlooking tennis courts in Albert Park with the city skyline in the distance. With friendly staff, seriously good food and a charmingly haphazard payment system at the end, the emphasis is on 'casual good time'. But be prepared: with waiting times for a seat between 0 and 40 minutes, and looong waits for the food to come out of the miniscule kitchen, there's plenty of time to chatter with friends!

http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2006/02/mart-130-middle-park.html


More breakfast reports later, I'm sure (it's probably my favourite meal of the day, at least on weekends) - so I'll have to revisit some other favourites soon...*

* such as the Green Grocer, North Fitzroy, and Cafe Sweethearts in South Melbourne. Yum :)