Melbourne is for vegans like Gold Coast is for people who’ve lost their shoes. No one asks questions. So what do you do when your shoe-wearing friends visit (aka non-vegans?) You take them out on the town, show them some of Melbourne’s best vegan food and convince them they don’t need meat to live a fulfilled life – which is easy in Melbourne: the vegan capital.
I used to take a camera with me everywhere. I’d upload photos to Facebook like nobody’s business. I’ve moved to Instagram and instantly share moments with my iPhone, but I don’t always spare time for descriptions.
I had four years to write about my experience living in Vancouver and blew it. After a former colleague from Vancouver paid me a visit in Melbourne recently, I vowed to do a better job of it in Melbourne. Here’s a start.
Harry and Frankie have a special place in my and my husband’s heart. The staff are friendly and knowledgeable and chat with both regulars and noobs. The vibe is relaxed, even when busy. The interior is stunning. Wine bottles, stacked five shelves high, line one side of the venue and the the arched ceiling, covered in an intricate vine design, gives a warm glow to the place.
It was here we took home the 2013 Vasse Felix Heytesbury Chardonnay. A perfect balance between over-the-top oaky chardonnay (my taste) and a more fresh, citrusy flavour (my husbands preference). Six months passed before we reached an occasion special enough to crack the bottle. Worth it.
I’ll never forget our first visit–the night we were introduced to Harry and Frankie rockling tacos.
Hooked. Instantly. I would dream about those tacos and return every six weeks or so especially for them. Everything else was a bonus. A server once said I wasn’t alone. He’d heard it all before. People craved those damn fish tacos.
Our relationship grew. I introduced friends to those tacos. I sent people specifically for the tacos. I promised to take friends and family to “the place with the best fish tacos you’ve ever had” when they next visited. I was proud to give away my little secret.
Some authors take words and create sights, smells, sounds and shared experiences.
When Jenny Sinclair uses her words, I’m inside her head. It feels natural. It’s like I’m reading my own thoughts. She pays attention to her world and narrates rich stories.
“Here, an open door gives a glimpse of a bicycle prostrate in a darkened hallway; there, a wall is painted with a blue mural of fish in darker hues; the scent of frying onions drifts out of a half-open window; and somewhere down the street, a guitar is playing.” This is Jenny describing a walk through suburban Melbourne, only, you took it together.
Jenny’s words made me realise my eyes might be open, but I’m not truly looking at the world.