A Taste

 Coming into the city, wandering through Flinders Street station on the way to the office, the eye wanders to the concession stands, which like all food shops around Flinders Street Station, have the faint air of rancid grease, salt and misery attached to it. There's the churro shop, where you wonder whether the churros are fresh (probably not). There's a sandwich shop with a lot of carbohydrates and not much else. There's a lolly shop which seems like a sad place. There's no excitement to it, not like the one in the Dandenongs where the most stoic of adults will get all teary about seeing a favourite sweet from their childhood (Red frogs and spearmint leaves are my favourites - and licorice allsorts... the list goes on). This is a generic lolly shop. I bought a bottle of water in there a week ago and felt sad in doing this. 

Currently the buzz of the city is subdued. It's a bit better than it was before. Okay, the food court at the bottom of our building, which I've named Salmonella Central is only half open. There's a branded burger bar, a Vietnamese place which is nowhere near as generous as the one near home of the same name. There's an Italian, a Chinese and an Indian from which I'd never get anything from the bain marie, as I avoid the sushi shop as it's just not a place I want to eat at. It's a bit nasty. The ice cream place is also sad, but any port in a storm. 

Food culture really makes a place. It was lovely going back to our Book Group haunt for lunch before the little lockdown, just having a Gustosa pizza, washed down with a blood orange soda. 

There are the little treats you go out of your way to find. Some of the favourites include a rose and lychee soda with lychee jelly from a little bubble tea place at QV - I wonder if that is still there.

 Or there's the favourite bahn mi place down Victoria Street - there is a couple of them down the way, but there is only place place I go regularly. I don't really eat pork, but the chicken ones are great. It has to have all the bits. The butter, the pate, the fresh roasted chicken, the pickled veggies, the hoi sin sauce, and the roll must be crispy on the outside and just out of the oven fresh on the inside. Oh, and just a little bit of chilli. There is nothing like dusting yourself off of the crumbs after eating a good bahn mi. 

I hate to say it, but nothing beats a fresh - and it has to be fresh - banana custard donut from the servo. 

Or there is the Dry Chilli Beef in Spicy sauce at the Vinh Ky down Victoria Street, which I introduce everybody to, because it is that good. 

After my Thursday night appointment I've been popping in for a bubble tea at The Alley Lu Jiao Xiang for a lychee slushie. And yes, I have a thing for bubble tea and lychees. 

Oh, and we can't forget the experience of eating fresh mangoes in the shower, naked, because eating mangoes should be done naked, in the shower, to get the best experience of them. Any other way is boring....

Or taking in a sneaky chilli hot chocolate at Chokolait down the Royal Arcade...

I am a woman of very diverse tastes. I like to think I know where to go. 

Food gives us memories. Chilli wontons from the Hu Tong Dumpling Bar, sitting eating while you watch the kitchen staff makes them, like you do at Hong Kong restaurants. Braised pork belly from found at Red Spice Road (Now boycotted after they did a dodgy on their staff). The Mexican food at Touche Hombre washed down with a Margarita. Putting the world to rights over a beer on Ponyfish Island with a beer... the list is huge. I'm just happy eating Nandos with friends, because Nandos is the bomb. 

Today, I had a hankering for noodles. I made my way up Degraves Street, hoping, in vain, to see my favourite Nepalese gay waiter. I wonder what became of him. There was talk his father wanted him to return to Kathmandu and marry. The fact that he's as camp as a row of tents appears to have bypassed his Dad. 

But I really had a hankering for noodles - and my noodles, from the Zen Noodle Bar down Centre Lane. I wanted to walk in and ask for my standard order - flat rice noodles with chicken and hot chilli. They're excellent. They've been excellent for nearly 20 years. They've flash cooked on the premises. I'd walked down Centre Lane the other day, just to check they were still there. Unfortunately, so many favourite places have closed down over the last year. Some are starting up again.

I got to the end of Centre Lane. It was busy, but there was room to move, unlike pre-COVID days where you were elbow to elbow with every sort of Melbourne trash you could find. Students pressed in with suit wearing twinks. The Kinki Gerlinki crowd are set amongst the tourists looking at the street art. 

And when I got to the Zen Noodle Bar. it was fucking closed. It was subject to capital works, a big container was set around it with workman darting about the place. 

I was gutted. 

So my search for a substitute lunch went on. I didn't want bread. There were people wandering around with decent looking poke bowls, but when I found the place on Flinders Lane it was crowded. Besides, it would never live up to the poke bowl I had on retreat on the weekend.  Brunettis, now located on Flinders Lane, was not an  option, though the thought of one of their fancies did tick a box. But no. 

Working from the office two days a week, I've decided to buy my lunch to put a bit of money back into the economy. 

But for today, with my desire for noodles, I made my way back across the bridge, went to Salmonella Central and bought some sub-standard Char Kuey Teow. Drowning the noodles in sriracha sauce made them palatable, but they were not what I really wanted. They were a poor substitute. 

I want the memory. I want the intake of breath as you place that first morsel in your mouth. I wanted my eyes to roll, savouring the texture and flavours. 

I want to be delighted by taste once again. 

Maybe another day.

Today's Song: