Brunch

Sometimes a restaurant opens and you can almost hear the sighs of relief around the neighbourhood followed by a hundred plans clicking into place. “Let’s go to that new joint for coffee and eggs.” “Why don’t we meet at that place on the beach road for a cheeky spritz?” “I can’t be bothered cooking – let’s just go to Beau for some steak and fish.” “We should have dinner with them: what if we head to Beau for a slap-up dinner and an easy roll home?”

Some people know exactly what they want the new year to bring. If you’re Hana Assafiri, owner of Moroccan Deli-cacy, you might sum it up as peace, falafel, understanding, haloumi and empowerment, hopefully all at the same time. Assafiri is an activist, chef and businesswoman. She’s been cooking, cultivating friendships and being fabulously fierce and feminist for two decades at the Moroccan Soup Bar in Fitzroy North.

We were sitting by the kitchen hatch where I could see the action. I loved watching the chefs folding omelettes, piling burgers and scattering chia seeds with that careful orders-are-rolling-in combination of speed and delicacy. But it was a bit noisy for mum and dad so I thought I’d check upstairs. And that’s where I found one of the best outdoor rooms in Melbourne, a rooftop deck with cushioned benches and high walls, a sun trap with umbrellas, a space that’s crying out for sunset drinks and cheese platters (stand by for the liquor license – exactly such plans are afoot).

How does brunch sound? No, literally. What noise does it make? If it’s the spectacular Dessert Burger at Long Story Short, it sounds like snap-crackle-pop as tiny nuggets of popping candy celebrate sweet living. The dainty cacophony doesn’t start straight away: what you see at first is a swirled mound of pink fairy floss, decorated with flowers and freeze-dried berry sprinkles. There’s a jug of coconut milk alongside: when you pour it over the spun sugar, it dissolves to reveal a brioche ice cream burger. The popping candy is activated by the liquid and the breakfast music begins.

Melbourne diners, there’s a new skill you need in your repertoire. It’s injecting your breakfast with condiments from a syringe. You’ll get plenty of practice at Dosage, a hip and friendly new chemistry-themed cafe hidden in a Burwood medical centre.

Who am I today? Am I the person who eats a breakfast bowl with quinoa and kale then spends the rest of the day beaming shining energy rays, boosted periodically by sips on a beetroot smoothie? Or am I that reckless creature who hunkers down over eggs benedict and braised beef cheek piled on crunchy sweet potato waffles, then spends hours galumphing around with jalapeno hollandaise on my chin?

Local chef Raman Vohra noticed there was no actual force field around Moorabbin which made it impossible to have a hip cafe in the area. So, seven months ago, he opened The Tradesman to service the area’s many young families, tradies, dog owners and lovers of good coffee.

If the point of eating out is to luxuriate in stuff you wouldn’t make at home (plus no dishes!) then Glass Den is nailing it. That was my conclusion as I ploughed through their signature Bluestone Benedict, a magnificent brunch creation that makes dinner seem the very definition of unnecessary. Housemade roti is piled with melty braised beef cheek, torn kale, poached eggs and a sucker-punching hollandaise laced with chilli. It’s elaborate but hearty and comforting.

“Are you ready?” asks the waiter. “Yes, ready,” says the eater. Not to eat, you understand, but to point a phone at a brunch dish that’s a social media sensation. A glass dome, filled with swirling smoke, is upturned on a plate. The waiter lifts the cloche and flicks it back and forth to ensure artful wafting, slowly revealing a pretty dish in whites, pink and black.