Melbourne, you’re incredible. No truly you really are. Every nook and cranny has amazing food. But perhaps for a second, I had an epiphany that I really j-u-s-t d-o-n-‘-t c-a-r-e a-n-y-m-o-r-e. I’ve resolved myself to the fact that cute little Asian girls will be Instagramming deserts till I die. Somehow eating out inexplicably keeps getting better. But what really eats me up, no pun intended is, that there’s no classic restaurants in our generation.
Melbourne’s hyper hipster eateries work on the ‘go hard or go home’ philosophy. If it doesn’t work, it’s gone. Blink and you’ll miss it as the next super hip fusion of Kim Chi meets New Orleans Po-boy restaurant comes in. If it does work, it must be jam packed with a queue out the door from lunch time till midnight. Once they pay back the setup costs, they’re already onto the next location doing it all over again. As soon as the grouting as set on the hipster tiles it begins all over again. If you’re lucky, it will work in the north, so they cross the Yarra and do the same thing in the eastern suburbs.
The problem is that it’s so short term and unsustainable. This generation won’t produce a Pellegrinis, Waiters’ Club or Spaghetti Tree. Regardless of how good it is, it’s gone as soon as there’s a profit and something new is trending on Twitter. Perhaps when we’re all old we’ll sip our apple puree and talk about how we queued up for Mamasitas. But our bored grand kids will have to take our demented word for it, because it won’t be there to experience. While I hope it’s sustainable, I’m altogether sure it isn’t. I’m bored with constant change, and that’s a difficult thing to do.