Restaurants

Where the beer flows like wine: Margaret River


Take a big whiff. Stick your nose in the glass, hold it by your fingertips and inhale slowly. Using your wrist, twirl the glass around in circles. Take another whiff. Smell different?

Ah, the art of wine tasting. Yes, the likes of France, Italy, California, and Chile all have their appeal but to Australians why would they bother trying such foreign wines when some of the best of the best is in their very own backyard.

I’m lucky that in my short time here (a year and a half already, sheesh) I’ve sampled some fine Shiraz in the Barossa Valley, Semillon in the Hunter Valley, Chardonnays and Pinot Noirs in the Yarra Valley and finally, the Cabernet’s and Sauvignon Blanc’s of Margaret River – with a few others in between of course. It almost seems like no matter where you are in Australia, you’re bound to stumble upon some damn fine wine.

Lucky for me just 3.5 hours drive south of Perth, Western Australia resides the small wine region of Margaret River. A friend from Brisbane was also in Perth the same weekend so it was a no brainer to rent a car for a full fledge road trip to indulge in another yet to be undertaken wine region.

As with everything I’d experienced outside of the city of Perth in WA, the landscape traveling south was barren. Flat farmland stretched for miles with mom and pop service stations scant. Running out of petrol (aka gas) was not an option. Music pumped, windows down with the sun setting over striking vineyards we approached the endearing town of Margaret River.

Interestingly enough, Margaret River is the name of the region, river, and town. And a beautiful region that is, with hiking trails, beautiful beaches and world renowned surf breaks, endless vineyards and more or less one main drag in the center of it all, Bussell Highway. This small and quiet town is consistently invaded by pinky finger sipping tourists and grape picking backpackers. And at the heart of it after a full day of exploring is the main pub in town, Settlers Tavern, as they quote “the kind of pub every wine region should have”.

Lucky for us arriving at about 7:30 pm on a Saturday, coinciding with the AFL (Australia Football League) Grand Final with the Sydney Swans taking the reins, it was off to the Settlers Tavern for some good old fashion pub grub and a taste of some local beer, specifically the quite mild yet delicious Margaret River Pale Ale on tap. The townies were a bit too celebratory so it was back to the hostel where I befriended Hazel from Wales, the boys from northern England who coined me “Alabama” because they couldn’t remember where in America I was from (a first) and a few other locals before eventually making my way back to where all things end, the Settlers Tavern again just a few hours later to rock out to Zarm, a fantastic live Rastafarian band who were as good as Bob Marley himself.

After a very late night it was an early rise to meet Bushtucker Wine Tours to indulge in what we came here for, to taste the fabulous wines of Margaret River. A small group of about 15, it was nice to actually join a tour that was in the vicinity to where we were staying, as opposed to on my excursions having to travel outside of a city, into the country etc. Getting back without having to pee is always a struggle, but thank goodness for Margaret River’s locality, wooh.

Stop 1: Adifern Winery

We approached our first vineyard at about 11 am. I found the tasting very rushed and detached. Being that it was a holiday weekend (strangely it was the Queen’s birthday but not really they just moved it to this Monday randomly) it was quite busy in the area and I felt we were hurried in and out. With that, none of the wines particularly stood out for me, although others on the tour disagreed, so I had my samples and moved on. The property however was beautiful, with bright flowers, endless fields of vines and farm animals roaming.

Before traveling on our guide did something that made me very unhappy at the time. She asked everyone to get on the bus and to sit next to someone they don’t know, introduce yourself, and have a chat until we got to the next place. I was not interested in playing this game one bit, so I sat in the row with the single seat hoping it would save me while I heard my friend Louise chiming away a few rows behind me. In the end I spoke to my neighbor Caitlin, who coincidentally is also from Brisbane and was traveling by herself. Darnist thing, now she’s our friend and we’re organizing dinner parties and making introductions to our groups of friends back in town.

Stop 2: Brookwood Estate

We started the tasting with a sweet yet soft sip of the bubbles. Hmmm, yes I can dig this. Normally I don’t purchase the bubbles but with summer nearly here I envisioned myself sitting in the local park with a glass of these bubbles soaking up the rays with some friends and so I forked over the $30 for a bottle to live out my new fantasy. I was also a strong fan of the Shiraz Cabernet 2010 but at the time only wanted to commit to one, so the bubbles it was.

Unfortunately however I found the staff very rude. While trying to decide, Shiraz/Cab verses bubbles, shiraz/cab verses bubbles, shiraz/cab verses bubbles I was hoping to gain a bit more information about the wines, as I also was purchasing a SSB (Semillon Sauvignon Blanc) for the colleague who’s house I stayed at the week prior, and just found this one staff member’s demeanor downright snooty and unappreciative of my business. In the end I still bought the wines, because they were mighty tasty, however I strongly feel it can’t go unsaid.

But then it was lunch time, wahoo! Sitting out on the veranda looking out over the vineyard I sipped the purchased glass of the aforementioned Shiraz/Cabernet Sauvignon 2010 since it wasn’t coming home with me and indulged in delights such as smoked crocodile, fresh pumpkin bread, and locally crafted chutneys and spreads. It was a bit unique offering of cold tapas but in the end was very satisfying and a great intense mixture of flavors.

Then the fun really began. Our guide offered up the witchetty grub to the group. Say what? Yes, it’s a bug or technically moth larvae and is a traditional provision for Aboriginals. The first person who raised their hand got to choose the head or the tail since it was going to be consumed after being cut in half. Immediately Louise’s hand jumped up, and we looked around the table and realized she was the only one who volunteered to eat the thing. The seconds ticked by as I contemplated if I should take one for the team with my friend, but then just before I braved it another girl in the group jumped in and ate the bit with the head. When asked what it tasted like Louise told us “it’s crunchy but soft inside, tastes like a macadamia nut.” I guess I’ll never know.

Stop 3: Tassell Park

In terms of atmosphere and fun this winery took the cake. It might have been because we’ve already sampled two other wineries, had lunch and therefore I’ve shaken my hangover and sour mood but the overall reason was the hostess. She was fun, educational and gave everyone a laugh and a smile. We tried everything from the lower range all the way to the private bin labels. And although in the balmy weather we ended the tasting with a zesty sampling of mulled wine, I walked out of there with a packet so get ready for a Christmas special recipe!

Stop 4: Cowaramup Brewing Company

Yay, beer break. Cowaramup is another town just a few kilometers outside of Margaret River off of Bussell Highway. If you can’t remember the name, just call it cowabunga like I did. For $14.50 you can get a taster of all the beers on tap, which of course is what we did, and then enjoyed the sun in the green pasture out back where we chatted to some other people on the tour who live in a remote area of Western Australia up near Broome. Nowhere zone.  I could have sat there for hours, taking in the rays, sipping deliciousness from light to dark, enjoying life. But then we had to move on.

Stop 5: Margaret River Dairy Company

I LOVE cheese! Cheese, cheese, cheese. This cute little dairy complex had a just enough room to squeeze us in, sample a few, and my golly the feta and brie were fabulous, make a purchase and head out the door. While Louise scored us some deliciousness to divulge later, I wandered around the property snapping photos. It was a quick stop off, and then we were on our way.

Stop 6: Margaret River Chocolate Factory

Whew, this is a lot of stuff isn’t it? I wasn’t event tempted by the chocolate at this stage. Well, that’s not true, this was probably the busiest place we ventured to all day, as all tours stop here. The chocolate warehouse was huge and had chocolates in all shapes, sizes, flavors etc. There was popcorn and ice-cream and it was a bit like heaven I would imagine. I just found my way to the free samples, which is very generous because you can scoop out the serves yourself, and then was ready to move on to the final stop off.

Stop 7: Thompson Estate

The owner of this last winery, a cardiologist, spoke to us all about the family business. I sipped, and swirled and chatted away as I realized this was my last chance to make a purchase. Their wines consisted of the Thompson Estate Range and the Locum Range, which is the cheaper of two. Interestingly enough, at times I enjoyed the Locum Range better than the more expensive so I walked out of there with a crisp bottle of 2011 Chardonnay, a new variety favorite of mine, to compliment the cheeses we just purchased for an afternoon snack.

We returned to Margaret River Backpackers around 5 and as the weather was fantastic that day we found all of our new friends from the previous evening hanging out back on the porch. Louise and I glowing from our wine tasting saddled up to the table to savor the cheese and wine and tell stories from the day. We found our way back to Settler’s Tavern that evening for dinner and then mingled the night away.

On the drive back to Perth the next morning we took our time on Bussell Highway, having breakfast in “cowabunga” where cow statues line the road before stopping off in Busselton to walk the longest jetty in the southern hemisphere. Families were fishing off the jetty enjoying the Monday holiday in the sun. As we casually made our way closer to the city we realized we made the unforgiving mistake when the gas light ticked on and we needed to find a servo (gas station) fast. Luckily we did, but the stress got tenser as the clocked ticked on, the traffic backed up, and my flight back to Brisbane inched closer and closer. Luckily for me, Louise’s skilled driving dropped me at the Perth Airport a mere 10 minutes before the flight departed, some charming skills convinced the ticket agents to print a boarding pass even though the flight was closed and I rushed through the gates after getting picked on for the bomb swat test, every time! And only to find the flight delayed an hour. Whew. I swear though, walking the longest jetty in the southern hemisphere, 1.8 kilometers across Geographe Bay, sure was worth it.

Hoi An, Vietnam


I like to say that Hoi An, a city on the south central coast of Vietnam, is a place where all things are made. Ceramics, robes of fine silk, and tailor shops up to whazoo that custom make suits, dresses and shoes to fit any shape and size.

Outside of this picturesque city is the major port of Da Nang, home of Da Nang International Airport, as well as the endless white sand and tropical waters of China Beach and the cluster of Marble Mountains; each their own worth a visit. However, cutesy Hoi An is a destination to seek out.

As a major trading port for Southeast Asia in the 18th century, Hoi An’s beautiful architecture reflects a strong Chinese influence in its historic homes and temples. The unique “Japanese Bridge” is apparently the only known covered bridge with a Buddhist pagoda attached to one side. In 1999 Hoi An was designated a World Heritage Site and its old world charm makes it a “must see” place on the Vietnam tourist track.

For me it was simple. Weather and fool proof Northface Jacket, $28; Silk robe hemmed on the spot, $15; 3 handmade dresses custom fit in less than 24 hours, $15 each; one pair of handmade shoes, $12. Enough said.

The heat though, a bit unbearable. The small city, snuggled against the murky Thu Bon River is generally pedestrian friendly aside from the motorbikes. If there was one place in Vietnam to take a motorbike taxi, this would be your “safest” bet in comparison to the big cities, but I still chickened out. The absence of cars however makes it accessible to roam the small streets and cafes throughout on foot.

Renee got the flu at this point and we were all hoping it wasn’t anything more. Heat exhaustion fell upon each of us, as we scoured the streets in search of a strong ceiling fan and ten cent beers. The days were spent in simplicity. Shower, walk, beer/fan, shop, beer/fan, lunch, beer/fan, nap, shower, shop, beer/fan,  dinner, beer/fan, sleep.

I had two of my best meals in all of Vietnam in this city. At Hai Café, in ‘Old Hoi An’, sitting outside on the veranda overlooking the various tailor stores, I had curried shrimp wrapped in banana leaf and a large cold Saigon. It was amazing and the atmosphere was cute and elegant; the perfect lunch stop off. Mermaid Restaurant on the other hand, recommended both by the guide book and by a friend, was the first restaurant in Hoi An established in 1992. The pork stuffed squid was impeccable and I’m well glad to have taken the friend’s recommendation. That is, until I saw horror on Renee’s face just as we had our plates cleared. She screamed then stood up. There was a foot long rat rustling through the ivy in the doorway above my head. Oh – my – gosh. Naturally we were all disgusted and it was right back to the hotel, into the AC and to bed.

In our time spent in Vietnam up until this point we had rarely encountered many Westerners. Escaping the heat in a small café we engaged in conversation with two US veterans fulfilling their bucket list of returning for the first time since the Vietnam War. Their stories were interesting, and it was nice to engage in some casual conversations as we hadn’t met many other travelers. When they began disrespecting the staff however, demanding air conditioning because “that’s what you do for American visitors” and speaking in broken English, it was unfortunate but we had enough and preferred the company of local food and culture.

The street food stalls, the cafes, the rows upon rows of tailor shops, motorbikes whizzing by your ear and colorful lanterns lighting the streets at night. Definitely worth a visit.

Say It Ain’t So


The existence of tomato sauce flavored chips is about as foreign to me as tomato sauce flavored chips. Gross! Apparently lots of things come in tomato sauce, aka ketchup, flavor.

I just found this new delicious restaurant slash craft beer bar not too far from my apartment called Bitter Suite. Beers are awesome, and expensive, and awesome. Yum Sunshine Coast Brewery Porter! Also, the food ain’t too shabby. Pork belly with succulent crackle, mmm whah (like a smack on the tip of your fingers). I just returned from there. Love that the owner recognized me and my love for Porter’s from a few weeks back. Yeah girlfriend.

I fly to New York in less than one week from today. I was hoping my killer tan would impress everyone, I’m not sure if it’s so killer anymore. I was told to not forget my roots when inquiring about how freezing the temperature actually is. Damn’it, its freezing! Back to the beach. Not sure if I can squeeze a last minute sesh in, however would like to point out that the last two occasions I was at the beach, my bathing suit bottoms, known in Aussie slang as togs, were on inside out. Twice! Yes, twice I’ve been lazily tanning and minding my tanning business to have someone point out, “Oh hey dude, you know your bottoms are on inside out!” Uh…twice, really?!?!

There is a rule many folk may be familiar with which states “no shirt, no shoes, no service”. I would like to tell you that that rule does not apparently apply in Australia. No shirt, no problem. Boys don’t wear shirts, a lot. Actually, if they do, it’s probably a singlet, which is what they call a tank top. Which I hear only Californian surfer boys wear, and FYI no one on the US East coast would ever be caught dead in. There is also a tendency to not wear shoes. Like a lot, again. Most often I see this in grocery stores. Service is all of a different standard, so no problem.

I’m back in time a bit, but as the much anticipated Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part I was released, I was pleasantly entertained at the Blue Room Cinebar in Rosalie, a cute suburb crawling with eateries of all cuisine and alfresco seating, displaying much cuteness in every direction (apparently I’m not one with words this evening). Anyways, Blue Room, tickets cost an appreciated $11 in advance, they have a swinging bar to socialize in before the show, and you order bevies and food prior to taking your assigned seat in the small 50 person theatre and they feed you as you watch the movie. Another wine? Press the button and it magically appears while I stare into Edward Cullen’s dreamy eyes and imagine running my hands through his bouffant.

In the US there is this fabulous reality TV show called Beauty and the Geek where they pair “beauties” of super hot chicks who aren’t meant to be fairly intellectually challenged with even the basics of life, with a “geek” who has most likely never a kissed a girl and is unaware of pop culture phenomenon’s. Heaven must love TV series creators! They were smart enough to run Season 2 of Beauty and the Geek Australia, thank G, and although it has expired I had intentions of blogging about its addictive nature months ago, as the Geeks got sweet makeovers and all the sudden turned hot. Just saying, download that for some amusing entertainment, hello Gilly!

Spike, the damn lizard who has lots of relatives that sprawl all over Brisbane, is technically a Goanna. Just thought everyone should know.

While working in Hoboken, New Jersey from 2007 to 2011 my local bar was called The Dubliner. It was an Irish pub that served awesome cole slaw till the management changed and annoyingly took the cole slaw off the menu. I would just say to Ben, the bartender, side of slaw and Yeungling please! And could sit there for hours. Things changed over the years, but that was the gist of it.

The “pub” next to my work now is called The Coro. There is no weekly Thursday HH (happy hour) like there was in Hoboken, but on the occasion that we do go there all bottled beers are only $5, even deliciousness like Leffe. The toilets are see-through until you press the lock, then it goes cloudy so people can’t see you doing your business. These are the vast differences of the Dubliner verses the Coro. I still secretly favor the Dubliner in the old days, where you could sit there with a pint of Guinness by yourself and listen to the Fratellis. Luckily a new boutique beer bar called Scratch just opened in the Milton neighborhood that may soon to be the Coro replacement.

I’m going to quote my friend Anthony who said at the Coro “I’m pretty sure Australia created the plastic currency that’s now used around the world, except in America because your money is made from paper.” Have a think about that.

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man


Apparently snakes don’t give warning before they attack! I know, weird right? I’ll make it clear up front that I have not been bitten by a snake however, I have been intrigued after having a discussion on the top of Mount Tamborine, whilst  overlooking the valley, of people who have been bitten on the ankle by a snake, and only realize such after returning home from their walk. I would assume there would have been some fair warning. Apparently because of all the flooding last year the snakes are coming out to play!

Cheers! We're on our way

Mt. Tamborine is a boutique wine region on an eight kilometer ridge of a mountain chain along the Gold Coast. Since my friend Nidya was celebrating a birthday we rented a limo and headed to the southern hinterlands – up the mountain for some schnapps, wine, beer and cheese tasting to celebrate! I relived what felt like prom, posing for photos out front of the limo before our friendly driver Brian ushered us on our way.

Mt. Tamborine Distillery, so cute!

First stop was Mt. Tamborine Distillery. A cute little property tucked back behind black iron gates, the distillery sits amongst gingerbread house style buildings with large black and white spades plastered over the exterior. Vintage gardening tools rest against oak barrels as the fountain trickles calmly in the background. We were greeted instantaneously by the colorful owner Michael and his wife with a rendition of happy birthday played on accordion.

Michael from Mt. Tamborine Distillery wrapping some lemoncello

Michael looks a bit like Father Christmas only in his Hawaiian style shirt it all seemed out of place. The eclectic charm of the distillery was a good choice for this first stop as the variety of schnapps in hand painted colorful glass, from wattle toffee to Turkish delight to musk and lemocello (a favorite amongst the group), had given everyone a head start with their buzz so early in the morning. I’m thinking that the champagne we had up the mountain didn’t help either.

I’d recommend a stop here for anyone traveling in the region – polite, unconventional, and fun. The handmade eastern European knickknacks around the shop were enjoyable to browse through and we all left with a little something – whether it is a bottle of schnapps or hand-woven wool hats. But before we got too comfortable it was time to move on.

The vineyard at Witches Falls

Witches Falls Winery is one of the most favored in the region. In addition to light and fruity syrahs and sauvignon blancs with hints of capsicum (pepper) and oak they also specialize in batches of wild fermented yeast varieties. A big risk for wine makers because the outcome is so unpredictable however the viognier was one that I couldn’t refuse to take back with me.

Gallery Walk

Back in town is what is known as Gallery Walk. It’s the closest thing to “downtown” as it gets up in this mountain community, with a strip of art galleries, fudge shops, local craft merchants and handmade goodies all around. Tucked at the top of the street sits Mount Tamborine Brewery. With the small craft brewery on site, this cute stop off is a great place to get lunch, use the toilet (as many of the wineries don’t allow customers to use the restrooms unless there is a restaurant on site – weird!), and sample some of their delicious brews. $10 gets a sampler of 4 beers that the knowledgeable staff helps mix and match based on your preferences for taste. I chose the darker variety which had an awesome Belgian dubbel, black forest German dark beer, a mild lager and strong wheat. Also here is the cheese factory where they make delicious cheese on the premises and may have judged us a little bit for wanting a taste of nearly everything! I have a garlic goat cheese waiting for me to dip into that I’m having hard time not gobbling down instantaneously.

Flight of beers at Mt. Tamborine Brewery

Cheeeeeese Factory

All the champagne, schnapps, wine and beer started getting to our heads so we traveled farther down Gallery Walk to the Mt. Tamborine Winery to
have lunch on large picnic tables outside. The food was a bit disappointing as was the fact there was no actual vineyard. We nibbled on small baguettes, salads and lamb shanks. I find it interesting that lamb shanks in N. America can be quite expensive and only served at certain restaurants where it is a dish that I’m told many Australians have grown up with and I’ve spotted it on menus quite frequently. So, because we were running a bit tight on time we opted to skip the tasting and find a view so we could enjoy the scrumptious looking rocky road cupcakes made by Sharni.

The top of the world at Mt. Tamborine

Brian drove us to a lookout point on the side of the mountain where hang gliders often leap from. As the wind blew my hat off of my head and we watched it tumble down the mountain Jacqui caught it in time just before it leaped over the same edge the hang gliders often do. I asked her not to risk if for a $9.99 hat but luckily she was fast! So there we sat, quietly and calmly eating our cupcakes while taking in the breathtaking view and winding down from a very long day which unpredictably was going to be a lot longer. This is where we talked about the damn snakes that don’t give warning.  I also asked Brian if this was a popular make out point however I don’t think he heard me because I never got a response.

We turned into the side streets of Paddington, back in Brisbane, bladders nearly busting and contemplated where to take the night. Naps before dinner or shine right through. I think the answer is obvious.

Vietamese at Kim Lan post winery tour

Those with other evening obligations traded spots with some of the guys since they didn’t join on the wine tour and there was no better spot to dine then KimLan in Chinatown. I watched Nidya eat a fried Quail whole – literally, whiling singing the tune “bones bones bones bones bones” as I couldn’t believe it is okay to eat friend bird bones, spine and all. But, I’ll let you judge her for that.  Happy Birthday Nidya!

Happy Birthday Nidya!

Brisness to Melbourne


Some graffiti off of Flinders

Stop being so secretive Melbourne! With your graffiti-laden laneways that just scream “I’m soooo cool!” Well, damnit Melbourne you are! Now stop showing off your multi-culturism, excellent public transportation, and ethnic pots melting. I get it already! I get that there are people having fun down some secret ally that I  have no idea exists, at a bar behind a turn next to a statue above a lamppost. The problem is, I want to be in the know so so bad and you’re rubbing in the fact that I’m just a clueless tourist!

Flinders Station & passing tram

For years Melbourne has been on the list of must visit cities, however, I’ve always been a bit nervous that I’d fall in love with it and never want to return to where I came from. A bit of  a habit of mine. So off I went, a little bit of business, and little bit of pleasure. Am I rushing to move? Not quite yet, but give me a couple more goes with some people who are actually in the know and you may be hearing more from me about the 2nd biggest city in Australia.

So obviously on the quick two-hour jaunt down south I wrote down a few things I wanted to accomplish while in Melbourne:

  • Manicure
  • Laneways (Alleyways)
  • Penguin Island (Prince Phillip Island)
  • Wineries (Yarra Valley)
  • Wes (Friend from Splendour)
  • Street art!

I did you a favor and decoded some for you. Now, I guess the only things on that list I did not accomplish were seeing the penguins (awww, I know!) and going to Yarra Valley. Don’t worry; I made up for it partying with Wes till the wee hours the night before. Figured, hang out with someone “in the know” and save the penguins for later. I’m sure they’ve been there for hundreds of years.

I also wrote down a couple of general Australian observations that have nothing whatsoever to do with Melbourne. Firstly, snakes! Yea snakes! They’re gummy candy (or what they like to call lollies here, whatever). And they’re just like everywhere. All the time people are like oh hey, do you want a snake? And I just laugh and go heck yea, throw me a snake!

Also, when was the last time you remember getting served a full course meal, with booze, on an economy domestic flight? I mean, I’m pretty sure Continental even got rid of those cute little turkey sandwiches that gave them such a competitive advantage. Gave me a reason to rack up the frequent flyer points at least. But in all seriousness, it’s been ages. But Quantas however, the official Australian airline, bangs out meals like nobody’s business. Full dinner, beer and wine, and a Cadbury thank you very much. Just saying.

And I’ll leave you with one more before heading back to Melbourne. Taxis. You sit in the front. Yea, weird right? Like, they get mad if you don’t. But what’s also really neat, is they have a system called Cab Charges. So for work, if I need to take a cab anywhere in Australia they give me these tickets that act like credit cards and it automatically bills the company. Sweet.

So I spent my first free night in Melbourne after a long day of giving presentations roaming around Degraves Street. It’s a cute laneway lined with tons of cafes, outdoor seating, and just had a vibe about it. So…everyone gets it, right, that the farther south you go the colder it is, farther north hotter etc. I live in the north, Melbourne is very far south. But! Nobody in Melb seems to care and they all just chill outside in a very European way and smoke their faces off. So, I found myself a spot in the corner of Degraves Espresso Bar, had myself a glass of Sauv Blanc from Yarra Valley and ordered the stuffed octopus. Think I surprised the cute red-haired waiter with my accent. Oops, happens sometimes.

Cafes and such

I then wrote down another list of things to do, most likely forgetting that I had already done that the day before.

  • Take pics of sweet street art
  • Make local friends and learn the laneways
  • Love this city!

Center Place

Crossing Flinder’s Lane, Degraves turns into Centre Place and it’s even cuter! Tons of boutiques resting next to cafes. A wrong turn, some graffiti, another laneway. The following evening I tried a different route after scouting around all day, and ended up at the Crown Casino. Gorgeous interior with high-end fashion and dining. I ended up in the food court eating Mousahka (huge Greek influence in this city – second largest Greek population in the world next to real Greece) before heading off to a backpackers bar where I befriended Gabe and Sara and ended up at a bar called Trash Bar in the middle of the city with their dreadlocked friend named Rabbit. Nice to meet you, time for me to head out.

A view of Melbourne from St. Kilda

Thankfully Saturday arrived, I had a lovely sleep in, and then Wes, one of our besties from Splendour in the Grass whisked me off to St. Kilda. Now that’s where I want to live! Along the coast, streets lined with palm trees and high-rises overlooking the ocean I just thought, so California. Although it was a bit chilly out, we walked along the water, and I got so excited at the thought of spring approaching, and it has. Goodbye longest winter of my life!

Wes walking the beach

We dined at the Beachcomber and again I was caught off guard with the odd coupling of seafood and Greek dishes that seem to be so apparent in this city. We munched over tapas and wine catching up about the cities of Melbourne, Brisbane and traveling. Wes and his flat mates later had me over dinner for lamb lollipops and kangaroo skewers. I didn’t even know it was kangaroo until after. And I didn’t mind. It was good! Wes then showed me his local scene out in Collingwood where we danced and laughed and mingled and danced until my cabby dropped me off in the city as the sun was rising. Needless to say, I didn’t go see the penguins on Sunday. This was also the day I found out that Beyonce was pregnant. Global news here people!

Wes, a drag queen, and me out in Collingwood

Monday through Wed back to the grind at work. After dining at the work event Tuesday a friend took me to the scariest bar in the world! For realz. So there it is, another laneway floor to ceiling in graffiti. Another turn, and then another. At this point I’m saying, “This is EXACTLY what I’m talking about! No idea, I would have had no freaking idea!”

Yea, well so Croft Bar has this whole mad-scientist/institute theme. There are test tubes and odd décor all over. No biggie. We’re pretty much the only people in the bar, and Ryan the young bartender is chatting to us about crazy cocktail mixology stuff and local beers. But then, I have to pee. HOLY SHNIKES! So, you go up these stairs and it looks like an insane asylum. In the ladies room, there is even like a hospital bed and stuff. I’m getting the heck out of here! Like seriously, I need to be accompanied to the bathroom the next time around. And even better, apparently there are multiple floors in this place with different themes. Not super cheesy like Jekyll and Hyde in NYC, but just super scary.

The ladies bathroom

So I guess the best part was, aside from me being totally freaked out, was when we asked Ryan if we could take a pic of him he posed with his to wrists out in front of him, facing down and said “I pose like this because I have a baby roo at home.” I gave a Whhhhattttt! And he responded, “yea, I’m way Aussie mate!” and I think that is the best quote I’ve ever heard.

So I just flipped my head over, took a pair of scissors, and straight up just cut my hair. Just like that. Pause. It sounds way more dramatic than it actually was. It was like an inch. Not Brittany style or anything. I could feel myself starting to get scissor happy so I scooped the contents up from my bathroom sink, and moved on to dinner. I don’t think anyone will even notice. But that’s okay, they aren’t supposed to. Shhh.

Note to self: don’t eat fish curry while sipping pink grapefruit juice.

Sushi Steal of Tribeca


Sake Bomb

When friends of mine proposed all you can eat & drink Sushi in Tribeca for a mere $30 I was skeptical, this has to be the california roll only kind of deal. So as a group of us hauled into a few cabs and made the short trek from the West Village over to Greenwich Street my mind was racing of the thought of spending my hard-earned pennies potentially planting me in bed all weekend from consuming defective raw fish.

If you’re attempting to visit Ashiya III (also has sister locations in the East Village and Jersey City) on a weekend make reservations. Simple enough – this place gets packed! Walking in we were quickly ushered to a group of small wooden tables pushed together making one long sake-bomb shelf. Listening to the amusing and rambunctious tables around us it was evident that we could wait no longer. At precise timing the waitress delivered to each table setting a clear glass cup, and inside, a ceramic sake cup.

Bang, drop, drink. With careful expertise the gentlemen of the table poured their glass cups halfway with Asahi Beer. Next the sake cups were filled from the small white sake pitchers. Chop sticks were placed side by side and layed on top of the beer cups. Then the sake cup was placed on top of the chop sticks. All are ready and marching orders are in place. At the count of three…bang, drop, drink! Fists pound on the table; sake quickly drops in the beer cup; and the men rush to drink the contents as fast as possible. I see a long night ahead of us.

What’s most impressive about this place is the two-sided menu. At first glance, the one side has your traditional sashimi and basic sushi roll offerings – spicy crunchy tuna, california roll, philadelphia roll. This met my expectations and therefore I was ready to order my usual “I’m on a budget” fare but before I could complete my order the waitress quickly pointed out that there’s more. There’s more? (subtle eye brow lift).

Heck yes there’s more! There’s maki rolls made from real crab meat and speciality rolls – each unique enough to make you scratch your head and ask yourself, but which one do I choose? Choose all! It’s all you can eat, duh! A few table favorites included the Lover Roll (salmon, crab stick, and avocado with spicy crunchy tuna on top) or the Dinosaur Roll (cucumber, avocado, and tempura flake with broiled white tuna and masago on top).

When your 2 hours are up it’s time to get out and the staff aren’t afraid to say so. We started to notice before our next pitcher of beer was ordered and the few pieces of sushi were soon scarfed down a check magically appeared on our table. The extra $10 per person thrown on for tax and gratuity make the $30 all-inclusive more like a $40 all-inclusive but hey, it still ain’t a bad deal baby and the sushi was damn good.

Ashiya Sushi I
680 Rt 440
Jersey City, NJ 07304

Ashiya Sushi II
167 1st Ave
New York, New York 10003
212-505-3348

Ashiya Sushi III
374 Greenwich St
New York, New York 10013
212-962-8080

Could this be beer heaven?


4:20 at Pony Bar
The menu at Pony Bar – changes daily!
We crawl through Hells Kitchen and down restaurant row. Although its cold outside, it’s not cold enough for us to see our breath. The glow of Christmas lights outside the boutique restaurants gives a sense of comfort, despite the holiday having gone. Onward, march.

Approaching 10th avenue there isn’t too much around except a vast Hess Station on the corner of 45th street. Taking up nearly a whole block, this immeasurable vicinity sticks out as awkwardly as your grandmother at a gay cabaret. But there is another defining characteristic to this street corner, The Pony Bar.

Stouts, hefeweizen, IPA…hops upon hops upon hops! Glorious days, I think to myself, this has to be the best place on earth. What makes this place so unique is that it serves only craft brews from across the US. That means you may try a Belgian ale or a delicious German wheat but its going to be grown domestically.

I feel like I’m on Family Feud when I scan the large board taking up the back wall behind the bar. Each listing depicts the brewery, beer, and alcohol content (ABV). No need to mention price because they’re all only $5. Try and find another steel like that in Manhattan. I dare ya.

I’m intrigued by the breweries and curious to learn more. Where is Goose Island and what’s their speciality? How about Sly Fox? I’m seeing a theme here that many brewers choose names from animals, uhum, Dog Fish Head.

I take notice of the clock on the wall. It’s permanently stalled at 4:20. I find it no coincidence then that their happy hour which earns patrons $1 off all drafts runs from 4:20-5:20 daily. I approach the bartender and ask for one of their large score sheets. This allows me to keep track of each beer I drink and give it a rating. Once I hit 100 I get a free t-shirt. Clearly obtaining this goal is my latest priority.

I now spend my days daydreaming about the next time I will be able to stop in the Pony Bar, grab a seat at one of their large picnic tables, and dabble with the thought of which beer will catch my fancy. For starters, I cannot get that Cappuccino Stout out of my mind!

http://www.theponybar.com

When influenced by a review


A horn honks in front of Baltimore Penn Station. There are still piles of ice stuffed in corners and medians covered with snow scattered throughout the car port. I look up sharply, a bit annoyed that in a matter of 2 minutes I was asked to bum 3 cigarettes. My friends have arrived.

I’m amused by Baltimore. It’s a city I loved hating when I lived here and now every time I come back I’m hating that I hated it so much. It’s got a lot to offer, and I’m almost certain if I found myself living here again it would a whole new ball game. But regardless, I’m in the car listening to pop music with two girlfriends from college. Should she spend $1000 on a new rug for the dining room or use the money for a shelving unit? The other votes rug. Her Saturday is already spent, what a nightmare, having to get up at 8 am to pick up a new dinner table 30 minutes away! For some reason I’m having a hard time grasping this. This is stress of your daily life? You lose sleep over carpets and shelves? If I had a $1,000 well I’d, I’d…

The conversation quickly turns to dinner. At this point I doubt I’ll ever understand the necessity to spend vast amounts of money on home furnishing. Do we try something new? Go to the same old-same old’s in Canton Square? Sushi, again? I’m up for something new but would be perfectly content in a funky little bistro tucked away in a quiet ally. Votes in. New place it is. Funky bistro out.

We do a drive by. From the outside it looks no different then any other restaurant in a shopping center. Could almost pass as a chain, like a Fridays or Outback. The reviews from friends were minimal. Appetizers good. $3-10. Really? Who gives feedback solely on apps? I’m a bit more interested in the ambience and entrée selection. Any good beers on tap?

Lambermains. Longhorns. We’re back in the cute, polished row home in Canton Square and now for the life of us cannot remember the name of the new restaurant. Does this place even have a website? Not to our knowledge. After several minutes of scuffering around the internet (it really shouldn’t be THIS hard) we come across one review. Thank you! But it’s not sounding so hot. There are complaints that although this place (true identity Langermann’s) is Southern inspired, the menu selection in actuality is not. From overpriced burgers to wings doused in a sweet bbq sauce (apparently this reviewer was so disgusted she had to wipe of each wing on her napkin – no way).

We ignore the reviews and don’t tell the other girls. Let’s see if this place can prove their sole reviewer wrong! The dining room is big and open. The bar spacious to allow for large groups to have drinks while waiting for their tables. We were tucked away against the kitchen. Part freezing draft drifting our way from the cold outside, brushing past the hostess stand and directly into our laps. The other part wafting the smells of savory meals, southern spices, and the rickets of pots and pans.

For starters, our waitress was clueless with a capital C. The beer selection was varied but there were a few local or imported brews that I wasn’t familiar with. Either was she. A personal pet peeve, and one would understand, was that the drink list didn’t differentiate between bottle and draft, and neither did she. Entrée’s ran for around $20 and I had my eye on the seared tuna. Other’s included shrimp and grits, crab cakes (we are in Baltimore), and sea bass. Unfortunately, the girls went all “diet” on me and most of us ended up with entrée salads.

Was I full at the end of my Beef Tenderloin Salad (sub goat cheese!)? Yes. Was I completely satisfied? No. I had to send my meat back – something I rarely do. When I say “whatever the chef recommends”, I’m assuming that his dear heart truly does not recommend completely raw meat for an offering that’s typically medium, medium-rare.

Was I swayed by the poor reviews? Would I have been as judgmental about the poor (I would go as far as saying completely inexperienced) service, a bathroom so cold I should have just gone outside, a dining room too open for the vast space – if I had not read a bad review before coming? Probably my friend. Probably.

http://www.langermanns.com/

Frozen Monkey makes me feel alive


I initially started this post on a torn piece of paper from the back of the current book I’m reading, a collection of travel stories from the year 2002. My moto today is anything is possible if you make it happen.

I get great satisfaction eating at the Frozen Monkey cafe in Hoboken. The service is terrible, and no, that is not a typo above that I take great satisfaction in eating here. There tend to be long waits for simple a menu to be dropped on your table, your order of eggs takes as long as making mashed potatoes from scratch, yet lately it has been friendly and not as daunting as I recall from the past.

Maybe this is because I eat often by myself and don’t notice these subtle nuances anymore. I like it here because its one of the few places in Hoboken with character. That’s not to say the various bars and restaurants plastered all around this small city don’t  hold true to the northern New Jersey joints most would picture in their minds; they do exist. But this place represents the character that shouldn’t exist and isn’t expected to.

Local, contemporary art hangs on the walls – changed every few months to support the local artists. Bright, vibrant shadows drape the walls in lime green, blood-red orange tables and chairs fill the room, and a coffee counter sits in the corner as retro as a 70’s polyester suit. I come here, despite the service, because the food is flat-out good, healthy, and cheap.

I make eye contact with a cute boy with shaggy hair and blue eyes sipping coffee at the table across from mine. They play music that I would listen to in my own apartment or at least would be interested enough to want to. I ignore the screeching laughs of the university girls who come in to gossip and the nannies who wipe spit from the spoiled children’s mouths while their parents are off working at investment banks in Manhattan.

It’s Sunday and I’m bored. It’s sunny but cold. The snow is shoveled against the curbs, occasionally missing someones head as it falls from the apartment window sills above on Washington street. Today is my day in Hoboken and I feel alive.

Zack’s Oak Bar and Restaurant


Enter through plush, forest green curtains into this cozy eatery and there’s no doubt you’ll be greeted with warm smiles. Because of its size, Zack’s offers a feel of exclusivity without the pretentions. A honey-comb tiled floor, oak-panels, and long mirrors line the bar with pictures depicting Hoboken’s early days. Although located off the beaten path, Zack’s isn’t missed by the locals. Some even go as far as to call it Hoboken’s own version of “Cheers”.

With only ten small tables in the dining room there can be a wait on weekends but it sure is worth it. The intricate ceiling, painted blood-red, contrasts the warm walls and tea lit table-settings inviting couples to nestle against lush corner pillows and talk intimately over French wine.

Aside from the nonchalant ambience, the true reason to visit is the food. You could call it American with a twist of everything. Favorites include the Stuffed Chicken (stuffed with asparagus and a drizzled with a soy based 5-spices sauce), the Lentil Salad (with balsamic and topped with warm goat cheese), and the Turkey Burger (a local favorite). In addition to their standard menu, new specials are offered daily from hearty, healthy pastas to fresh fish and juicy steak. Choosing a special off of this menu never fails.

With funky, indie-rock music flowing softly from the speakers, Zack’s is divey enough to make you feel comfortable at the bar sipping a few pints (from light beer to imported Belgian drafts) or watching the game on one of their four TVs. Yet at the same time will make you feel elite snuggled in the tiny dining room amongst your closest friends – who most likely are soon to include the staff.

In the summer months al-fresco dining proposes a nice alternative for people watching and on the weekends brunch offers all the favorites. At Zack’s it’s a win-win. It won’t drain your wallet and will leave you feeling at home with a smile.

Zack's Bar on Urbanspoon