That Jess Ho

Well, Min Lokal, rather.  Swedish.

Really.

It is.

I studied it for well…a semester, and even without it I could say it is Swedish.

You see, I have recently moved back to Fitzroy and have been hunting a nice place for brunch.  I walk up and down Smith St, Brunswick St, Johnston St, Gertrude St…and you know what I forgot…back streets.  You know, the places which asshole magazines and newspapers will describe to you as, ” quintessentially Melbourne,” or some wank-ass shit like that.

I had a little bit of a “quintessentially Melbourne,” morning yesterday.  I woke to the offensive coo-ing of pigeons outside of my window, exercised for a bit, spoke to my housemate and went for a stroll after I found that I was having a devastatingly-girlie-bad-hair day and I was uncharacteristically hungry.  I followed my instincts and landed outside of the CCP and stared at photographs for a while, before I was reminded of Min Lokal being on the other side of the street (another reminder being the first bike ride that I have had in over three years, with the aforementioned housemate, seeing me swear incessantly at traffic and whimper at the same time).

If you haven’t been to Min Lokal, you may be a little confused.  Yes, it is a Swedish name (for reasons I am unaware of), they serve brunch foods like pancakes, baked eggs and toasted breads, and then toasties and salads.  None of their food is Swedish, in fact, they’re very much Melbourne brunch items, whatever the hell that means.  They’ve also got a few box-crate seats outside and two communal dining tables inside.  So freakin’ Melbourne right now, I am cringing as I type this.  Oh, and they have more vegetarian options than those of flesh.

Their food is good, their coffee is good, their service is (you guessed it) good.  That, my friends, is something that is not so Melbourne.  To have the trifecta of good in a side-street cafe of incongruity is rare.

You hear me, Melbourne, RARE!

I will, for once, be polite and not name names.

So, with two double espressos (or espressi) down my gullet, I go for the Adafina, $14, which was served to me by a Japanese woman who often orders chips and gravy and dahl at the Lincoln.

Baked eggs with pumpkin in a tomato base with green beans, green olives and sumac.  I complain a lot about having mushy baked eggs with no texture and rubbery yolks.  This was not the case.  You still have bite in the pumpkin and hell, I will pay for your brunch if you can resist stabbing the yolk and watching it run throughout the dish with your butter-lathered toast.

Hmm, is it wrong of me to eat those green olives and think to myself, hmmm, dirty Martinis.

Oh, and then the air became thin and it started to rain.

So

Melbourne

It

Hurts.

Min Lokal

422 George Street,
Fitzroy, 3065.