Co Do - Melbourne

Finding Vietnamese Goodness on Foot
Sometimes we just luck out.  We trammed our way over to Richmond, a suburb NE of Melbourne a few clicks, known for being the cross hairs of the Viet community.  We employed an old-fashioned analog technique called "footing it" which is simple and effective - walk down the main drag and peek in restaurant windows until you find a full one (in this case, full of Vietnamese.)  This is how we found ourselves in Co Do and Dodo in front of a plate of Cơm tấm, otherwise known as "broken rice."

Fish and Chippers - Melbourne

Wasn't in the Cards
We set off from our hotel to Fish and Chippers expecting a short tram ride to a tasty fish and chips.  We should've known better.  We got on the wrong tram, then switched to a wronger one.  One of those typical couple arguments broke out where I, the man, was determined to go my way and Dodo, the woman, wanted to interrogate my thinking. When we got off the second tram we were standing next to a rental bike stand and decided to ride there.  A friendly Melbournian helped us figure out the system and we ignored the large signs warning that it was against the law to ride bikes without a helmet.  Dodo pedaled like a turtle, doubtful of the route or in protest, perhaps.  When we dead-ended at a busy street and had to push our bikes across, I thought she was going to kill me.  Save me, Fish and Chippers, save me!

Queen Victoria Market - Melbourne

Breakfast of Champions
Queen Victoria Market is "the" market in Melbourne.  It's a combination flea market, butchers, bakers and food court that you're as likely to find boomerangs for sale as you are "Moreton Bay Bugs."  Those are the fellows in the middle to the right of the tiger prawns.  I don't think anyone consulted a reputable PR firm when they came up with the moniker "bay bug."  Not exactly appetizing.  Besides, we were there for something much more mainstream, though perhaps not "breakkie" mainstream.

The Outpost - Melbourne

Hit and Miss
At a small cafe named The Outpost in the South Yarra suburb of Melbourne, Australia, I kicked off two weeks of anti-work, otherwise known as vacation.  This is the kind of place I wanted to love but couldn't completely - it is a mix of good and not-so-good.  My scrambled with black truffles should've been a deal-maker but they were suprisingly bland.  They looked so beautiful that I chewed and chewed, patiently waiting for something to happen.  Nothing did.  Dash of salt, bit of pepper, still nothing.

Bill's - Sydney

Bad, Badder, Baddest?
Perhaps a blind man whose sense of smell and taste has sharpened? Or a man born with five tongues? Surely no ordinary person could coax any taste from this monotonously bland fare. I looked around, confused, at the elbow-to-elbow crowd within Bill's but never arrived at an explanation. This was the worst meal I've had in a very long time. When I bit into the flatbread it wouldn't comply, I had to twist it between my teeth until a piece eventually tore off. It was stale and lifeless - probably bland when it was fresh a few days earlier but now it had mutated into cardboard.

Janet's Pies - Sydney

Had to Do It
Akin to getting a bagel in NY or a croissant in Paris you have to get a meat pie in Australia, right? I didn't seek out the best one or get any advice, I stumbled into Janet's Pies while exploring King St in Newtown. It certainly looked the part - the chicken-mushroom combo sat majestically on the plate next to a tower of mash and a spill of peas.

Hungry Jack's - Sydney

The King is Dead, Long Live the King
When Burger King tried to expand into Australia they found that the name had already been trademarked in by another restaurant. They offered their franchisee his pick of some of their other trademarked names and he chose Hungry Jack's. Rest assured, tastewise, if not namewise, this is a delicious Whopper Jr.

Bambini Trust Cafe - Sydney

Hit by a Truck
Changing time zones is hard enough but going from summer to winter adds insult to injury. I hadn't anticipated this on the 7 hr flight from Singapore to Sydney, I was busy with thoughts of murder. A few rows back, a two year-old Chinese boy screeched and tugged wildly at grandma's hair without reproach - the one child policy gone awry. By the time I cleared customs and wandered into the 40 degree chill, I felt like I'd been in a car accident. Perfect time for what they in Oz call "brekkie."