‘What’s all this about calling yourself a foodie?’ says my down-to-earth brother, ‘I mean, it’s not like eating is hard.’
Eating used to be so easy during family holidays when we were kids. After a day on the beach we’d drop into Somers General Store for an icy pole. We’d collect a pack of white sliced bread and a bottle of Rosella tomato sauce to splash on our BBQ chops and sausages.
Now the Mornington Peninsula has gone foodie. The paddocks have been replaced by boutique wineries with trendy tasting rooms. Local shops have become epicurean delis stocking ‘gourmet’ everything. The bakeries sell olive/mustard seed/wholegrain/honey/ciabatta/sourdough at yeast-inflated prices.
The Peninsula, an hour or so outside Melbourne, is now liberally sprinkled with some of Australia’s best restaurants. And younger, more knowledgeable members of our family drag their oldies to a fine dining experience.
It’s pointless to mutter that we could enjoy a week of decent meals for the kind of money they’ll be charging. We’re going to eat at Ten Minutes by Tractor and that’s that. Continue reading