The Age
Cheap Streets
March 1, 2005
Cheap Eats editor Patrick Witton takes readers on an exotic, gastronomic
city tour – the travel costs are minimal and no passport is required.
You know what it’s like: a pal has just returned from a Christmas break (in
February) and he’s regaling you with tales of leaky boats on the River Phrik
and sunsets over the Cote d’Anchovy. He’s reliving gibbous moon parties and
seven-day bus trips, and he’s gone for the sari-over-ugh-boots look. And
you’re happy for him. Really you are.
“And the food!” he says. “Stalls selling satay and red-bean treats … chic
cafes and tofu temples … banana pancakes by the buggy load.”
But did he have to travel so far for new gastronomic experiences? In
Melbourne’s CBD, beneath the bristling cranes and within new consumer
complexes, is an ever-changing array of splendid cheap eateries.
While researching the 2005 edition of The Age Cheap Eats we found that on a
walk from one corner of the city to the other, with perhaps a little
zig-zagging, you could discover a just-opened tapas bar, noodle house,
crafty cantina and much more. So as a taster to the latest edition, we’ve
plotted a trail to 10 of our new Cheap Eats favourites within the CBD. Some
are just-born enterprises, while others are someone’s secret-no-more. You
won’t need a passport, a fistful of travellers’ cheques, or a course of
anti-malarials, but you will need a stout appetite to complete this
gastrotour.
And what better place to start a Cheap Eats jaunt than at Spencer Street,
where so many backpackers or briefcasers begin their city expeditions. With
your back to the exoskeleton of what will soon be known as Southern Cross
Station, start walking up Collins Street, then vanish from the throng into
the city’s narrowest laneway. Here the tram ding fades, replaced by the hiss
of a hardworking coffee machine. This is first stop: Choix Creperie Cafe, a
little piece of Paris without the raucous American college students, where
you can watch as lime is drizzled on to avocado toasties, lamb and yoghurt
is origamied into crepes, and lattes are balanced on homely porcelain china
saucers.
Backtrack to Collins, cross King, then take the hidden escalator at the back
of the Rialto to Flinders Lane. Just beyond the corrugated back wall of Le
Meridien Hotel is Sataybar, a nifty little lunch spot where skewered beef,
chicken or tofu are set on the grill until smoky, doused in peanut sauce and
racked up with vegie crackers and achar salad – just like your west Javanese
grandma used to make. Lunch plates are top value, but pace yourself if you
intend to complete the tour, and dine by the skewer.
Maybe it’s time for a moment’s repose, a cleansing cuppa and a meditative
moment. So shuffle up to Queen Street and into Fo Guang Yuan Buddhist tea
house, a serene spot where ersatz pork dishes and tofu stews are served,
along with osmanthus tea “to refresh the mind”. There’s also an art gallery
that may feature incense burners, tea culture and other soothing subjects,
and a meditation room if the spirit takes you.
Once refreshed, float up Elizabeth Street (via car-free Hardware Lane) to
Chillipadi, a fresh-faced Malaysian place bedecked with cutie girl motifs.
As well as trad faves such as laksa (spritzed with mint), Chillipadi’s
kitchen folds up artful packages of sticky rice wrapped in banana leaf, and
turns out Malaysian street fare such as roti sandwiches with spicy mince.
North Asian flavours feature at the next destination. Head through Melbourne
Central’s subterranean passageways, sneak over Bourke Street, then descend
into QVB’s basement food court. The pick of the bunch here is E C Pot Cafe
Bar, decorated with wood panelling and tiny terracotta tomb soldiers.
There’ll be a small wait before a lidded claypot arrives, plump with rice
(correctly cooked until just-crunchy on the bottom) and topped with spicy
pork and eggplant.
Your appetite might be flagging at this point, so just a sweet snack next.
Cross Lonsdale Street and slip down Heffernan Lane, with its perplexing
council-issue street art: parking signs stating “bigotry is the sacred
disease” and other traffic advice.
Stroll along Little Bourke, buying Hello Kitty trinkets while you’re there.
Then enter Mid-City Arcade, home to Dessert House, where homesick overseas
students find sweet relief in red-bean pancakes, black sesame ice-cream, and
pawpaw with snow fungus.
Waddle down Bourke, onto Swanston and back into Flinders Lane. It’s time for
coffee and a chance to fall asleep with your head on a textbook. Journal
shares a scholarly vibe with the CAE library next door. But here you can
dribble hot coffee (or soup, or antipasto) on your copy of Soviet Crockery
101 without fear of retribution.
Those with a strong constitution can stroll past the art galleries of
Flinders Lane for the final assault of the gastrotour. But there’s always
the beckoning clunk ‘n’ grind of the City Circle tram: bench yourself next
to a map-toting tourist as the W-class rattles its way up to Bourke Street.
Here, at the fur-hemmed, cigar-smoking end of the city are three fine cheap
eateries in which to chew. The Mess Hall attracts pollies and plebs with
Thai fishcakes, Armenian soups, and salads of beetroot, basil, goat’s cheese
and pomegranate. Around the corner on Spring Street, the marble-wood
surrounds of the City Wine Shop lures them with offerings such as duck
rillettes, crackingly good pork belly, and a hard-to-resist wall of vino.
But maybe you want to end at the top: while Parliament isn’t sitting, we the
people can perch on velvet chairs and enjoy scones, smoked salmon and other
spoils of government-issue high tea. You have to book, but there’s no better
end to a tour than with treats plucked straight from Bracksy’s pantry.
The Age Cheap Eats 2005 is available from newsagents and bookshops for
$19.95, or from The Age shop for $17.95 (subscribers $15.95).