Dumbo felt like it was in the ‘burbs – mostly because I pulled out the old Journey Planner and found it’d take a bit over an hour, and in some cases a combination of three modes of transport, to get there.
A friend incredulously messaged me last week saying she was in a café that was #peaksouthside, so much so it had a DJ spinning tunes at the obscenely early hour of 10am.
I had an immense hankering for a Melbourne brunch after spending the last two weeks of January in Kuala Lumpur and Bali breakfasting on roti canai, dim sum or dosa and avoiding coffee for fear of having to use a public drop toilet.
I visited Victoria Street once for a reason other than Vietnamese or Korean food and regretted it immensely. This isn’t that time.
Despite still being in what I would call an inner north suburb, Fifteen Pounds is a welcome reprieve from the waiting that you have to do in your hungover and food-deprived state at the average inner city café.
I gradually made the decision to stop ordering my much-loved brunch staples of corn fritters and baked eggs after I was diagnosed with my intolerances a few years ago.
Despite belonging to a cohort of money-wasting millennials who eat out, on average, nine times a week, there are embarrassing gaps in the places I’ve dined out at.