A night out at "Dodgy Dumplings" and Koyaanisqatsi

"Mum, I know you're stressing, but it'll be ok, I promise, I know this place."

We've only got an hour to have dinner before we walk back to the theatre, and I don't like rushing. However my son was insistent and persuasive "They're fast AND cheap", so we began striding through the crowded city streets. Well, the blokes strode, I  scampered.

Where are all these people going? It's Tuesday night for goodness sake. What are they doing? My little feet and short legs ache to keep up with the long gait of the blokes. I've put on thick woolly socks to keep my feet warm, but as a result, my "going out boots" are a bit tight on this chilly winters evening. My toes hurt and I'm feeling a tad grumpy. I'm cold, hungry and rushed.

Eyes avert as we dodge religious spruikers, but glance with curiosity at someone dressed in a minotaur mask flanked by two women and being trailed by a young man with a video camera. A student film group perhaps. No time to ponder. Rush past the ever present sellers of The Big Issue and assorted people rattling tins hoping for a donation. (Are they genuine? It could be anyone who has stuck a "Help the Homeless" sticker on a tin.)

North along a major street, right up a lane then north again up a darkening alley. Beyond graffiti!

Does this place even have a name?  Arrive breathless to find a welcome lack of queue which is good, but ... there's a certain aroma that's not so good, possibly old food and lacklustre drains and infrequent garbage disposal. Thankfully my nostrils adjust quickly.

We're directed to a table in the corner. Other diners pull their seats in for us to squeeze snugly past with the sort of familiarly I usually reserve for treasured friends.

Tattered menus are presented without fanfare, no specials board, a faded A4 sheet stickey taped to the chipped yellowing wall advertising a meagre selection of drinks. "Don't bother", says my son, "they never have any. Well just have water." Not concentrating I promptly ask for a bottle of ice-tea. "No have" oh, ok it's not just that they don't have beer or soft drinks, they only have water!

Before I've even opened the sticky, torn and dogeared menu, my son has ordered. "If you don't get in quick you might have to wait" My goodness this is fast - he really does know this place!

While I'm exploring the strategically placed condiments, cheap and cheerful plastic picnic cups, looking for all the world like what we had when we were young, are plonked damply on the recently cleared table. They're followed by a Decor container of water which sloshes gaily across the table adding to the general wetness. Definitely not fine dining!

We begin to exchange pleasantries and barely start to catch up on the week's events when an unflustered, efficient young man unloads plastic plates of slippery dumplings unceremoniously on the table. Did we go into some sort of timewarp? We've only just ordered. They must have had them waiting!

I suspect these young waiters know their physics. They have an unerring ability to slide laden plates of dumplings, known for being a skiddy kind of food, onto the tables without mishap. They know exactly how much thrust is possible to save the diner a lapful of steaming hot, oyster sized, dumpling.

If this place had a motto it'd be
Get em in
Feed em
Get em out
Repeat.

Like a conjurer, our gently smiling waiter delivers assorted plastic plates of dumplings, from between, behind and over the heads of other diners. They neither notice, nor care, heads bowed over their own plates of squelchy morsels. No words exchanged till the end: "You enjoy?" he asks with concern. He beams when we answer with honest, enthusiastic yesses.

And with time to spare, we make it to the theatre, tummy's full, chatter shared. As for "Dodgy Dumpings", what should to all intents and purposes be a stagnant backwater of Melbournes dining scene, it's a fast food experience that fitted our requirements perfectly.

On a scale of 1 - 10, with with 1 low, and 10 high.
1 - Decor
1 - Presentation
1 - Mindful eating
1 - Tantalising menu
1 - Ambience
10 - Value for money (under $30 for three hungry adults)
10 - Taste
10 - Efficient service
9 - Entertainment value

Next stop, the New Hamer Hall at the Arts Centre to experience the first of the Qatsi Trilogy, Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance with Philip Glass and The Philip Glass Ensemble.
My review of Koyaanisqatsi is over at traverselife.

Giant vase of gladioli from Dame Edna Everage
to celebrate the opening of the New Hamer Hall.

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Gingerbread Melbourne

Knowing how hard it is (for me at least) to create reasonably flat, well proportioned gingerbread shapes and stick them together so they don't slither and slide creating something more like a disaster zone than a stable building, I'm super impressed by this creative Gingerbread Village by Epicure in Melbourne this month.

Here's the real Melbourne Town Hall

and the gingerbread facsimile, complete with wreaths and snow. 

It'd be a bit of a shock to wake up and find snow in Melbourne, but you can always dream!

The Arts Centre from the back of Fed Square (Federation Square) looking across the Yarra River.

The gingerbread Arts Centre complete with spire - no seagulls wheeling above it thankfully! The MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground) is in the background. The Christmas tree with star that you see at the bottom of the photo is in the next shot. 

without snow, thankfully!

and a close up of the MCG complete with the towering lights, spectators and players. 

A structural masterpiece!

I suspect this is Flinders Street Station, normally seen without the reindeer and Santa!

 Santa and an elf have come to life!  Taking a break to sample some gingerbread.

Playing hide and seek amongst the forest of plastic trees at Fed Square. It would have been a real challenge in gingerbread as it has fantastic angles. Flinders Street Station is the sandy coloured building with the dome in the background.

And for those dreaming of jingling bells, there's always the possibility of enjoying a horse and carriage ride. Just beware of the rhinoceros on a skateboard! (A clever advertising strategy reminding people that trams don't stop quickly or easily.)

Now, back to trying to make something presentable out of my own gingerbread disaster. The roof insists on slithering off...sigh.

I cheated this year, and bought a kit from the supermarket - Never again! Whilst the shapes are neat, it smells all wrong, it's sickly sweet and I suspect the flour is coloured rather than oozing ginger and cinnamon; it doesn't smell like Christmas. Smell is such an important sense, it seems a pity to shortchange it, don't you think? It's a bit like the plastic tree we resorted to a couple of years ago during the drought - ok, but not quite right.

Celebrations and smells. What does Christmas smell like to you?
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