“Which Melbourne restaurant would you go to if you were dying tomorrow?” Someone asked me a version of this at a supper club recently. It was far too dark for the boring accountant in me, so I protested, and the question was kindly changed to “What is the one Melbourne restaurant you would go to if you were leaving the city for good?” Much better.
You would think that after a decade of eating my way around this city, I would have the answer ready. I did not. I truly did not. And I have not stopped thinking about it since.
This is silly, because if the question were about Singapore, I could answer in a heartbeat. Hunan at Chilli Up, South Indian at Gandhi, Pakistani at Usman, Boon Tong Kee chicken rice, Punggol nasi lemak, and lastly the Katong nasi lemak opposite my old office, which single-handedly added 5 kg to my weight over the two years I worked across the road from it. That would be my farewell tour, no hesitation. If it had to be one proper restaurant, it would be the chilli crab at No Signboard Seafood, with every other stop on the tour as runners-up, because, well, it is Singapore.
The same logic works for Jakarta. If I were leaving Jakarta, it would be Sop Sani. It has since closed, so instead it would be Hoka Hoka Bento for rice, ebi furai and crab rolls, with lots of their chilli sauce on the side, plus the chocolate pudding and a Teh Botol. If it must be Indonesian, Nasi Uduk Tanah Abang would win, and the roadside bubur ayam near my parents’ house would come a close second. I would not choose nasi Padang, because I can easily get it in other cities. The same goes for martabak Pecenongan, which I can get right here in Melbourne.
One Last Meal in Melbourne Restaurant
Which brings me back to the real question. What is the Melbourne equivalent? Which Melbourne restaurant would get my last meal? I have narrowed it down to three contenders.
The first is Dainty, my most frequented spot. If loyalty counts for anything, Dainty has earned its place on this list many times over.
The second is my comfort restaurant. This one is always changing, and right now it is the chicken pieces pho at Pho Chu The. It is the bowl I crave through cold Melbourne winters, especially after long days at work.
The third, if it has to be something Australian-ish, is Vue de Monde, and it comes as a wejangan (advice from my elders) from the company CEO, who told me I must try it before he sent me to the Melbourne branch. It has always felt too expensive, so I haven’t pulled the trigger. Is it strange for a last meal to also be a first?
I don’t know. I need to think about this properly.
Meanwhile, I tried to guess what Fafa would choose. My bet is a toss-up between Pochana, Ima Asa Yuro and 279. Haidilao is out, because it is literally a chain and he could eat it anywhere, from Singapore to Jakarta to, best of all, China. But what do I know? I will let the man answer for himself in the comments.
Maybe the fact that I cannot answer is the answer. Singapore and Jakarta are chapters I can look back on, so the choices feel clear. Melbourne is still being written, one bowl of pho and one plate of Sichuan smoked ham at a time. When I finally know which Melbourne restaurant gets my last meal, I will update it here. Until then, I am happy to keep eating my way toward the answer.
Now over to you. Have you ever thought about it? If you were leaving your current city for good, never to return, which restaurant would get your very last meal? Consider it food for thought, literally.
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