The Wizza of Saint Kizza My Nizza..!!

O.K. I'm from New Zealand and so don't have a deep seeded bias when it comes to the Kilda but the place conjures images of certain destinations back in the home land. At first glance it's the Mission Bay of Melbourne or the Ashley Olson to St. Kildas Mary-Kate. I think beach front towns where the sun slithers slowly into the sea are quite the opposite of towns on the east coast where the sun sinks like a dropped pie into the dreary haze of the city scape. Sorry about the little bitch session but somethings just need removal from my chest. So, .. I ventured into St. Kilda on Sunday with all the anticipation of a 1940 hitler youth choir in modern day Elsternwick . Being that as it may on this trip i'm the donkey and the proverbial carrot is a free ticket to see 'Nouvelle Vogue' at the Prince of Wales so i think i can make a B-Line for the venue, Hmm.. maybe not because whats that familiar voice , not my conscious but that little guy down below (No up about 10 inches) someones hungry and that someones me.!!



Stuck in enemy territory with my girl, a wallet full of money i can't afford to spend and what looks like a yellow brick road of opportunity. But this city of Oz has a few friends for me to meet.
1. Courage; 'the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty'. First stop a place called, and with lots of it 'Elbow Room' a 20 minute wait later "CHECK PLEASE" wait we haven't even ordered yet and there's more staff then customers, OK time to make like the cowardly lion and leg it SEE YA..!! one tick for no courage..!!).
Heart; 'a muscular organ responsible for pumping blood through the blood vessels by repeated, rhythmic contractions' O.K. so pizza seems like a quick and painless route to a full stomach. Painless, this hardly describes 'The new York Pizza Shop' all those movies of sex in the city sophisticates and dirty sexy money debutantes makes me think they never tried a true new yorker like i just did. After dabbing at the carcass of my slaughtered pizza slice then squeezing out it's life blood of hydrogenated trans fat i swallowed, and chewed and chewed and swallowed and then my heart started going some what askew something like a fitzroy hippie on ice with one to many jimbay's and no rhythm hmmm.., maybe a few weeks of work off for a quadruple bi-pass was just what i needed.
Brain; center of thought, understanding, etc.; mind; intellect. Finally arriving at the venue, grins and smiles a plenty the great doors of the Prince of Wales swing open 'ENTER' Booms the voice of the great and powerful door bitch..! O.K. now the magic word 'Nina' which was the supposed name on the door list, yes definitely supposed cause the 'door bitch' is a 6 foot 4 reject from gladiators jamaica auditions 'No man no list for U' If only my cons were red and dimonte studded i'd be three clicks from my palace, oh well the 112 will have to be my hurricane ride home!

Tardis, DeLorians, and The Monta'Goo' Hotel

Travelling back in time is normally a pretty tough gig with out a DeLorian or perhaps a 1950's english phone box(Tom Baker would blend in nicely here) but up until a year ago the Montague Hotel was managing the feat quite easily, stepping through the door and in the blink of an eye it appears a pack of Ava Gardners ex-husbands have banded together in the corner to re-form the brat-pack and my mother is behind the bar asking 'What'd ya 'ave son'..!

Ok as we speed forward in time (queue 'Tardis' music and speed up to 56 mph in our DeLorian) to the present day Montague Hotel known by those who work it affectionably as 'The Goo' outside tables are full, the cast of the OC lounging comfortably, we pass them and step into the bar nothing over the top has occured but with a few tweeks some coats of paint and the 50 year old cocktail waitress being cut in half leaving two blonde 25 year old bartenders i think we were on the right tramline (ie. this is definetly not the fufty-seven or eighty-sux..!!!) so after a couple of drinks at the bar we move through to the dinning room it's full and still a little old school 70's style sitting down the service is relaxed the music low key and the crowd a cross between the little river band and the golden girls.

But getting down to business the food side of things is were the Goo shines from Pasta to charcuterie all is made on the premises. The chef Julian Mann who has been the sidekick of chefs such as Michael Lambie, Ian Curley and Martin Webb and has come out with all guns blazing on this one.

To start a charcuterie plate of duck liver parfait, bresola, chicken and pancetta terrine, rabbit rillette, and a selection of cold cuts all served with several chutneys and char-grilled bread. For entree's we had the beef carpaccio, thin slices of tender pink black angus beef with shaved parmesan, rocket and truffle oil a classic that never gets old. My partner in all things protein/carb went for the goats cheese salad a maybe to generous portion of the chevre but thats why i'm there to help. Third course was 2 scallop and prawn tortellini served with bugs, scallop, light frisse and fennel salad in a pool of amazing nantua sauce.

TO BE CONTINUED IM HUNGRY NEED SUSTANENCE...

Gas

Communal table anyone? Or should I say tables. This spacious eatery is embracing the new wave cafe culture or should I say guiding it (Gas has been round for 5 years).

Looking like a copacetic update of a Spanish tapas house gives such a wide display of dishes that you could laze the day away surrounded by the who's who of the Melbourne scene or international set (how about Jessica Biel at your table..!!).

Gas also does a breakfast with a North African/Moroccan slant with an ever changing array of specials during the weekend ranging from Parisian scrambled eggs with hazelnut pistou and baby spinach or maybe French toast made from Italian panetone with a berry compote and espresso ripple semi-fredo. Just make sure you arrive early on weekends as masses converge like a boxing day at Myer...!!!