Baristalker - Oscar Cooper
by stalker zine
Back again. Miss me? Thought not. Who the fuck even is this chick (?) who wrote 102 (lol jks 103) posts about absolutely nothing and thought that her opinion was going to be taken with any kind of salt - Himalayan rock salt, fleur de sel or maybe even some Celtic sea salt - who knows.
Regardless of your opinions of this blog, I am back and dandy. Completely and utterly sated as well, having returned from an extended brunch with a great friend of mine. We dined, we talked, we laughed about capybaras and strange women stroking glass windows, and once again, as it comes around every couple of months or so, I feel compelled to attempt this blog again. I don't know if it was the sunshine, the company, or the absolute moments of rapture caused by the palatability of our nosh, but here's to a fresh new start on this stale, crusty, grandma of a review blog of mine.
Enough introduction, you're waiting for the good part. Today I went to Oscar Cooper, a new dining establishment hanging out in the cool cat alley of Greville Street (no one goes here enough anymore I swear). With all the bistro charm of a hangout in Gay Paris, you feel like you're chilling in Southern France when you're hanging out on the outside tables, soaking those dappled rays of Vitamin D us Melburnians have been deprived of so long. Inside it's cool calm and collected, pretty standard cafe deco - bench seat at the window for people watching, plants in hangars, exposed brick, and a shiny ferrari of a coffee machine - it's simple, unassuming aesthetic that makes you feel like you could get your coffee here every day. There's also a fireplace. Win.
Because it was literally the first sign of sun I'd seen in Melbourne, I decided to place all Queensland cynicism of this climate aside (stepping out in a ski jacket when it says it's 30 degrees today has often proved to my advantage) and sit in the sun - best decision ever.
I ordered a coffee and was frothing at the gash when I noticed it was Proud Mary's (shits delish, line up on Oxford street just to get a sniff of ristretto - gagging for it) and wasn't disappointed. The chai is top notch too - they just offer the latte and it's quite weak, so if you like a spicy chai, steer clear. But really how can you go wrong with a milky honey cinnamon drink?
After scoping the menu for a good fifteen, and resisting the urge to order the special (a bacon and egg pide dripping hollandaise) I decided on the scrambled eggs with goats cheese on ciabatta, with a side of smashed avo. My mate got some poached eggs, bacon, smashed avocado and goats cheese on sourdough.
This is where it gets good.
Now normally I'm slightly autistic with my meals, and like to eat all of the items individually. I think this stems from my childhood where Mum would literally make dinners where one item was intensely favourable, one was average and the other absolutely positively retch-worthy. It was always a battle of wills to decided which to eat first, but you'd never cross contaminate and risk ending up with a shit taste in your mouth for the end of the meal. But this, this meal, my fucking god. With the egg that when pricked with the edge of your fork, bursts forth with all the orange of Valencia, dribbles and soaks onto your cushion of perfectly warm, crunchy toast, seeping into the nooks and crannies of that pile of smashed av and rippled, juicy, meaty curves of bacon have had the drippings of yolk stained on themselves as well. You've just got to put all that shit on your fork and get it down the hatch ASAP.
My meal was just as sublime - waves of scramblies, sensual and creamy, with the hodge podge of soft goats cheese peaking out of the folds. The perfect amount too, normally you get scrambled eggs and sign your will, the food coma is pending and the stomach sends out the cavalry to guard the pipe so you don't overdo it. But the avo added the perfect counter to the meal, refreshing me after mouthful. I felt as though I would weep when I swallowed the last bite. Too delicious for words.
(flirted with this, goats cheese, thyme buttered mushrooms, smashed av on sourdough)
Because the meal was so good, I did something I normally don't, and that's getting conned into having a post meal drink. Normally this tips me over the edge and I want to go tactical vom in the bathrooms so I can eat lunch at a reasonable hour, but the idea of a frothy, freshly squeezed something sounded too good to be true. I bargained on an apple, celery and mint juice, while my partner in crime organised an array of apple, pineapple, mint and beetroot. They were foamy, organic and absolutely quenching to the point of Nirvana. I was half tempted to go to Target and buy a juicer afterwards for recreational purposes.
Not only was it ten types of yum, the bill was surprisingly cheap, for two coffees, a chai, too big ol fresh juices, and our meals, it came to the grand total of $55.00. I'd do that again in a heart-beat. The best part was walking out in the sunshine, with no lug of a food baby, and a relatively untainted wallet. The service too was really great, enough to know you're being looked after, but not in your face. They also had the smiles of a thousand cherubs - must have been the skys Summer undertones this morning.
Next time I go I think I'm going to hit up their lunch menu. They serve gourmet jaffles and delicious sandwiches, as well as serving up an enticing array of cocktails - including my absolute god damn favourite - Pimm's. Fucking yum.
10/10 Oscar Cooper - keep it up.
160 Greville Street
All photos from Oscar Cooper (Facebook)