Complete Mess

So....without further ado, I'm going to be completely naughty and sneak this post in without Chee Chee's consent or notice, about something I did with someone else, at a place that may or may not be in the CEG at all. I'm breaking all sorts of rules here...but I just can't hold this post in any longer!! (Sorry Cheese!)

It was a dreary Melbourne winter Monday. One of those chillingly spectacular days....concrete coloured skies, part time showers, and a wind that could make your ears drop off. Ahhh....but here's the thing; this is the heart of Melbourne. A bitter sweet coffee wedged between frozen fingers. Coat lapel and collar flipped. And a Marlboro stuck to your bottom lip. Frosty wind glazing your eyeballs. It is an indescribable feeling and atmosphere to anyone who is not from/living in/lived in/visited Melbourne.

What does all this have to do with this blog? Well...I'm just getting warmed up [pun intended]. The point is that my Monday started just exactly as it should in Melbourne. 30 years and still in love with this city. This is how I spend every morning...and this particular morning prefaced a progressively awesome day [despite having to work the 9 point 5 hours].

Come 6pm sharp I was standing on the corner outside the building....finished work....having a replenishing cigarette. It was dark and I was waiting for Jeremy to come so we could go for a bite. Before Jeremy arrives, an embarrassing and food-irrelevant situation occurs....blah blah blah....those who want to know shall have to ask me directly.

We walk up towards a place on Bourke Street that I had heard of, told Jeremy about, pretended to know about it, and later admitted that I had never actually been before. We arrive almost at Spring Street and there's a bunch of empty chairs and miniature tables, and a couple of towering mushroom heaters. Ah, yes....we're in Melbourne (as if I'd forgotten). Do a 180 and it's an old, crummy little townhousey thing with cracked white paint flaking off the cement walls. A tiny little sign says, "The Mess Hall". We walk in to a tiny little room where half the space was taken by the counter and coffee machine. There were a handful of miniature "two-seater" tables, and a giant table (reminiscent of a giant wooden chopping block). Sat down and ordered from the mini-menu. Yes, everything seems small...but that's ok...I'm small.

Fresh beetroot discs, stacked in a mini-mess, with crumbled goats cheese and sauteed wild mushrooms. BAM! Spinach gnocchi mud-wrestled in a bed of sweet, laurel scented, pork ragu. BAM! This was thoroughly the best $30 (per head) I'd spent. Wow...I can't even write about it....it's a happy little moment dancing in my head now.

In short....this was an amazing place. Even if it's just for a coffee and a stare at the mesmerising, pixie-like, waitress in army fatigues. There will surely be repeat visits.

Btw, don't get the wrong impression...it's called "Mess Hall" and the pixie-chic wears fatigues...but the atmosphere is far from "army" and "mess halls". It's cozy and delicious.

I had better close this post and hope it's not too out of line. Thanks Jeremy for a good night, and sorry Chee Chee for breaking the rules of this blog. (We both know that I'm the more likely one to break rules...so...here it is)

Huge.