129a Beaconsfield Parade. Albert Park 3206. Opposite Kerferd Road
My sister told me to write about cafes again. So here I am.
I've gotta say, these days everybody has a food blog - fuck me it's trending more than Katy Perry's divorce. I stopped caring writing a while ago... I'm not really sure why.
I guess I got sick of writing about eggs and ham, everyone else was doing it, and like an indie devout giving up on their favourite band once it reaches pop culture, I decided there were bigger and better things to think about.
I also didn't think it was my place to rate a cafe. After all, I'm a nobody and I certainly can't make up a person's mind for them. However one thing I do know is this, every cafe has a bad day, just like you and I have a bad day occasionally. Perhaps we get out bed looking like shit, feeling like shit, or maybe even a bit of both. So cafes have bad days too.
Sometimes your eggs may be slightly undercooked, or you may have to wait an extra ten minutes for your coffee. Sure it's not ideal, but if you wanted your food instantly straight away, your coffee burnt extra hot, or your meal adapted in so many ways that it no longer resembled what was written on the menu, then you should stay at home, and cook your own fucking breakfast, or better yet, start your own cafe.
This is what most blogs are centred around - complaints from people who really have no right to complain at all. I was one of them, so that's kinda why I gave up. Anyway, I ended up writing about the people behind cafes, behind brands and sometimes behind nothing at all. You can read all about them at willowandblake.com
However, for old times sake, this morning I went out for breakfast and I felt compelled to write.
It's 2012, Happy Fucking New Year. I've just dove head first into the world of freelance writing, meaning I have all the time in the world to go out for breakfast, but no funds to finance these meetings of 'nom' - what a predicament I'm in. My friend asked me if I'd join her in one last hoorah, before I have to lock myself at home and eat oats and water for the next year of my life.*
To be honest, I've eaten out so much lately that I feel as though my taste buds are constantly unimpressed or perhaps desensitised to amazing food. Melbourne is so saturated by the cafe society that awesome food has simply become the norm. So for me to go somewhere and think, "yes yes yes", well, I feel like you all have to know about it.
Albert Park, you don't have much to offer; at least I didn't think so, until today. Nshry is situated right on the beach of Beaconsfield Parade. You've probably walked past it a few times already.
It has a wicked set up, like an ultra slick beach shack, I would live there. The staff were super chilled and the service was sweet. We weren't surrounded by your typical cafe society patrons; but rather an eclectic bunch of everyday Joes', mums, dads, babies, a date here and there, a tourist who clearly didn't know what they'd stumbled upon, and one young kid sucking down on a Corona.
I didn't have to look at the menu for long. Panko crumbed corn and zucchini fritters topped with smoked salmon, avocado, a poached egg and wasabi kewpi. Do it Do it Do it.
Corn Fritters, crunchy goodness; avocado, awesome; salmon; well, good salmon is hard to come by and I could have eaten this shit forever.
When I think about the time spent building said tower of fritters; the avocado a.k.a concrete holding the structure together and the few sprouts delicately placed on top of the little tears of wasabi mayonnaise, I wonder about the love that went down in that kitchen. Then there was my friend and I; a month's worth of Christmas and New Year hangover-ness and sunburnt-ness; and within two seconds, like angry seagulls swooping in, our forks had crashed through the food, destroying the tower quicker than 9/11... hmm, too far?
Anyway, coffee was ace of spades. Maybe because I'm trialling a life of no sugar my taste buds are more sensitive, but my long black reached new lengths as for the first time in a while I actually tasted some sweet chocolatey & acidic notes of goodness.
We sat, we ate, we chatted, we soaked up the sun. It was generally, just a rad day. As I looked at the rest of the menu and watched as other people's breakfasts were brought out, I thought of all my friends who would love the shit out of this place, and the hours we would waste savour at this new hidden gem. Get on it.
Date rate: They are starting dinners January 5th. Check check.
Coffee Cure: I would say this is the best drop in Albert Park by far. They've got all the fancy stuff too, Syneso machine, pour overs, cold drips, blah blah.
Hangover Happy: There were definitely some numbers on the menu that would have satisfied my drunken sister after New Years, and they have a liquor licence, so what's better than the hair of the dog?
Price: I paid like $25 for my breaki. It's up there, but well worth it.
Till we meet again, peace.
*Admittedly, I fucking love oats and water.
