there’s nothing in mascot, at least nothing that has nothing to do with planes and airports and travel. at least that’s what we thought. but on one of our sunny lunchtime walks we stumbled across tartine. i think the thing that caught our eye first was the tricycle, the wheel chair and the chaise longue (or however you spell it) arrayed around a coffee table with building blocks to keep me amused for hours. weird furniture – better take a look.
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you know when you find a new cafe and it looks so great and you want it to be so great. but often it’s all smoke and mirrors. picknick is so great. so great. pickinick is david’s (second name not yet known) new place, only open for about three weeks. it’s funky and delicious. and that’s just the furniture – apparently all made especially for picknick. nicey nice.
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ham or bacon? bacon or ham? hmmmm, i just don’t know which to choose!! turns out either one is delicious. shaved ham cooked like bacon, shaved bacon cooked like, well, bacon. yum. just, yum. i had the eggs benny with ham (there was an option to have trout but i just couldn’t get my head around that) and my cohort had scrambled eggs with bacon. words fail me… i don’t remember chewing. i think it’s breakfast all day, too, so another feather in their cap for that one.
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i can’t believe i haven’t written about porgies before. a curious cafe name, admittedly, but a breakfast that’s second to very few and near the top of my list when a friend says “where shall we meet for breakkie?” (yes, i know it’s brekkie). it’s not all lollipops and gumdrops but the downsides must be insignificant because i keep going back.
first, the good shit. whenever we get a great brekkie there’s always a question that springs to mind. this is so good, how is it that so many paces can screw up eggs on toast?!! it’s not rocket surgery so why why why are there so many mediocre breakfasts on offer.
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i’m always very excited when a new cafe opens within walking distance. there’s a dearth of good breakfast cafes in this area (tip o’ my hat to porgy and mr jones) – hence the excitement. i’d describe the decor as rustic/industrial/funky – really well done. there’s a mural on the main wall that took 15 hours to paint – you can find it on youtube. go nuts.
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ever wanted to practice your high school french in the comfort of your own city? now you can – at creperie le triskel. in fact, it’s required. you have to order in french. with your best french accent. at least they give you a sign over the register so that if you’re really desperate, you can read it. jeh voodray oon crepe ow caramel ay un cafe, sil vus plays. pretty fucking slick, eh?
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if you close your eyes and think of a bar called velvet, you can probably see velour couches, darkened corners and cigars next to the fire. if, on the other hand, you actually go there you find your basic cafe with your basic tables, chairs and double decaf-mocha-frappa-ccinos. it is of course part of the new port melbourne with every try-hard double income, no kids couple running around having fun fun fun. Continue reading
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look, i’ve heard good things about this place, but when i went it was supremely crap. cold breakfast does nothing for me- especially when we’re the only people in the place. at least we got to hog the fire. the coffee might have been good, but only in comparison to the shitty breakfast. i guess they get a credit point for being open early when everything else was closed. decor’s nice and i like the wall of bottles. i just hope they’re all firmly secured, eh?
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it’s so good! it’s so bad! ok, what the fuck is going on at vanilla? if there was a prize for inconsistency vanilla would be accepting the same gold award every week. some days we go there for brekkie and it’s just perfect – good eggs, good service, nice people, good coffee. Continue reading
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as you probably know i am partial to the cafes, restaurants and other eateries that offer breakfast all day. my feelings are if i want to have poached eggs and toast at four in the afternoon, i damn well will. so my saturday afternoons are usually spent either bitching about some place that doesn’t serve breakfast whenever i want it, or heaping praise on a new cafe or restaurant that does. this is just so with the comfortable chair – yeah it sounds like a monty python sketch. grow up! Continue reading
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i have no idea why i keep going back. this is forehead-thumping stuff. why why why??! maybe it’s just because it’s too easy to deviate from the walking path around the lake and by all accounts it should be a great place for a super-muga-frappaccino-latte. or more likely, it’s because it’s too much fun to watch tourists waiting at the ‘wait to be seated’ sign. if you’ve ever been to the boardwalk you’ll know that that leads to many hours of amusement. Continue reading
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ahhh… strozzi. it’s been a good few years since i sat here every morning with my ciabatta toast and macchiato, but i remember the days fondly. now here’s a place that hasn’t really changed that much. they still do very good mood lighting and coffee. yes they do food and stuff, but i’ve never really gone past the coffee. strozzi is located at the bottom of that beautiful building in collins st – i worked there for all of three months and loved walking into work every day. Continue reading
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the business card is green – so it gets a tick of approval for that. (green being my favourite colour of course – tch, keep up!) of course. it’s been in my wallet for a week now and i keep getting it confused with my coffee stamp card (also green) so i’ll be glad to get rid of thing. Continue reading
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the wankers in the gfg love this place so i’ve been studiously avoiding it for months. actually i’ve been there a number of times recently and really liked the breakfast. they do the poached eggs very well and have award winning (eggs monthly?) pancakes and eggs. Continue reading
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nothing makes me happier than to rock up to a cafe at 3pm and be presented with the breakfast menu. well, i’m sure there are other things that make me happy too but late breakfast beats most of them. except os, yes, yes, except that. Continue reading
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the full menu is on, it’s tapas only, it’s on again, off again…will you make up your fucking mind. little blue (as i like to call it) is jammed in behind the rebuilt st kilda pier kiosk. now i’m not an architect (no really, and i wouldn’t tell you anyway in case you tried to track me down) but why in the hell would you spend a bunch of money rebuilding the weatherboard kiosk that burned down three years ago and then shove a steel and glass cafe right behind it? Continue reading
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there must be a rip in the space-time continuum somewhere behind the doors to the kitchen – it cannot take that long to make anything. and when the food does eventually emerge tortoise like from the kitchen there isn’t all that much of it anyway, unless you’re talking about the toast. you couldn’t call it a slice, it goes way beyond a single piece, even a slab is selling the size of this thing a bit short. landmass might come close… each one is about the size of tasmania, with a couple of tiny eggs perched on top and some green garnish, a sort of easter island homage at breakfast. and the coffee isn’t really flash. Continue reading
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i so wanted to like this fucking place. never a good sentence to start with. it just really got on my tits after a while. ok they have good, even great coffee. but a little thing called service wouldn’t go amiss. it’s always the same, though, isn’t it. have a great idea – pay crap wages. why do it? why not do it right? Continue reading
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so i’m on a quest for the holy grail a weekend breakfast in melbourne’s cbd, that is. after some dreadful suggestions from friends and fellow connoisseurs (block arcade? please! that place couldn’t serve breakfast if it was on a platter with a try-hard herb garnish) i was quite hopeful about hardware lane. so it was with a heart full of optimism that i approached jeremy’s hardware cafe. Continue reading
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i can’t believe i haven’t written about isa brown before now. i’ve had plenty of time and plenty of wine there. they have it all – open fire, yellow pvc sofa, good coffee. don’t be put off by the lego sign outside. it isn’t some crazy miniature lego world with lego freaks that i dreamed about when i was 12. what? oh, yeah, isa brown. Continue reading
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