Thirty Three
On Friday evening I had dinner with friends at Woodstock Cafe on Nicholson Street. The word is spreading that this place is overtaking I Carusi as home of Melbourne's best pizza. I'm not much of a pizza connoisseur, but my gorgonzola and double-smoked prosciutto pizza was certainly delicious. Unfortunately, we only managed to coax one friend out of the 11 in attendance to come back to ours for a wine.
Last night I had dinner at Mecca with my family. I went to Mecca last year for my birthday, with just the missus. The menu was totally different this time; gone was the za'atar encrusted lamb, African olives, and Turkish delight. I had spatchcock with bulgar and pistachio - very nice, and a Dalwhinnie for dessert, because I ain't really got a sweet-tooth.
Oh, and presents; from the missus I got a Japanese teacup which is intended as a pen-holder (to replace the jam-jar I've been using for years), a summer dressing-gown, and Peter Watson's From Fire To Freud: A History of Ideas. From friends; wine, records, and an issue of the New York Review of Books. From my parents; a new desk, which I must write about soon, and from my brother; a bottle of Chivas Regal. All up, a nice way to turn 33.
1 Comments:
I went to Madame Brussels last week for the first time, I loved the setting but the after-work crowds and the tiny tiny $3 beers or giant $10 beers put me off.
I know they're aiming for a certain type of punter but they could still find a happy medium for the Beez Neez drinkers out there!
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