newmarket inkerman street st kilda

i will literally kill for their delicious pork ribs. yes, yes, i know we should all be vegetarian because meat wastes too many resources that we don’t have, future generations, think of the children… but. pork ribs. pork. ribs. well, that’s all i got, really. why am i banging on about pork ribs? newmarket has them. slow cooked, in spicy sauce. where’s my gun?

and if pork ribs (seeing pending killing spree note warning above) were not enough, how about a slow roasted leg of lamb? or some spicy sliced chorizo with peppers? or fresh quesadillas? how about them indeed?! took about 15 minutes flat to polish the lot off. curse their deliciousnessess!

i am very impressed with newmarket. it used to be a tired old hotel in the not-quite-so-salubrious part of st kilda. what looks to be about a million dollar refurb (possibly more) and you have a very well-heeled eating establishment.

it’s kinda the place you expect to see a bunch of fucking hipsters with faux-hawks drinking obscure craft beers made from rare flowers on the fucking blah blah. but far from it. normal people (our table was full of awesome people, of course) enjoying dinner with not a hipster-hawk in sight.

under newmarket is a bar and club for when dinner is over but you don’t want to walk too far (or can’t walk too far because i had too many beers and wine mixed together) for more drinks and moosik.

i have one complaint (don’t i always). wait staff approaching the table, already talking at me, talking across conversations, really give me the shits. interrupt me once, i’m annoyed. do it twice and i’ll blame the pork ribs for my actions. situational awareness. look it up.

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