Healesville Hotel

Oh Autumnul breeze, how delicious it smells. The heat of summer begins to dull and suddenly things apart from ice cream seem to be edible. To celebrate my extended palate I decided to take advantage of the Coldstream Hills Restaurant Express which is part of the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival. This mumbo jumbo of marketing names will allow you to get 2 courses, a glass of wine and tea or coffee at 70 top notch restaurants in Victoria. So today I took mummy along to the Healesville Hotel for a well deserved break from the toasted sandwich machine at home and the chance to get a bit tipsy before 1 o’clock.


If you have no idea where Healesville is, I will give you a quick idea. It’s in the Yarra Valley (where lots of grapes are grown and trampled on) and is about 20 minutes on from Lilydale Station (the end, yes the very end, of that train line). It’s a nice drive and the valley is at it’s best at the moment; green rolling hills, blue skies and crisp leaves. The scenery of the hotel is also quite nice: friendly green walls, pressed tin ceiling and an airy relaxed feeling. We were seated at a window where the sun shone in gently and complemented our glass of White Harvest wine, the hotel’s own label.

The normal menu of the Healesville Hotel changes seasonally but due to the Express deal we were offered a menu of two options per course. I am genetically predisposed to dessert, as is my mother, therefore the two courses became main and dessert. I did glance at the starters, I’m sure there was something that contained smoked salmon and a pea soup.
For main I picked the vegetarian option of Zucchini and Spinach Lasagna and mother chose the carnivorous option of Duck with Roasted Figs. While waiting for our course to come out we were offered fresh bread twice and we accepted once. The double offer of bread and the ample supply of butter on the table made me a very happy lady; for I lament the lack of bread in any place but the RSL these days. I mean low-carb was so last decade, it’s time to bring back bread, pretty please! Sorry about that little rant, back on track.

Mains were presented to us by a charming man who informed me that the rainbow of petite tomatoes scattered around the lasagna came from his garden. He also informed mummy that the figs her duck rested on came from a tree in the waitresses’ garden. As you can tell the service was friendly and relaxed. In fact the waitress gained my utter admiration when she managed to get rid of a wasp in our window by accurately swatting it with a table fork, now that’s service. Once nature was taken care of I could tuck into my meal. The lasagna was superb; forkfuls of soft cheese, fresh pasta and spinach layered in-between and the little tomatoes all went down a treat. Mother adored the salt rubbed duck and thought it was cooked “just right”. She also mentioned that the portions were “ladylike” and I do agree with her. I was thrilled to have something that was ‘just right’ but those with Bearish appetites would not be satisfied with the Goldilocks serving size. In which case they should probably not refuse the second offering of bread.

Ah dessert, two options again. Strawberry and Rasberry Tart or a Trio of Ices. Mother commented that the Ices sounded like something from an Enid Blyton book, but the literary connection was not enough to tempt us from the berry tart. We both devoured it from the crisp outer shell all the way to the last scrape of gooey vanilla custard. Some plump red berries were pierced onto the fork in the middle of this sugar deconstruction.


Perfectly full mother and I walked out of the Healesville Hotel and had only gone three shops when we discovered the perfect ending to our outing, shoes! There in the window of the Black Cat Boutique was a pair of shiny plum brogues that looked good enough to eat, let alone wear. So we hurried inside...and now my dears I sit typing away in my stockings and bra for I refuse to take off the plum shoes tied to my feet.

Smith Street

I have lived just off Smith Street for over a year now and in that time I have observed the rate of shop changes, which rivals the housing repossession rate in America. The shop owners seem to delight in packing up all their goods and moving them to the next block for a change of scenery. Luckily for the overworked Smith Street sign writers there are two shops that will probably still be in the same place tomorrow - Smith St McDonald's and Melissa's Cake Shop. I have too many stories about Smith St McDonald's, all tinted with an alcoholic haze, so I will write about Melissa.

Melissa's Cake Shop is a relic from the bustling Smith St of the 1960s; back when housewives kitten heeled across the pavements, nothing except Church was open on Sunday and linoleum was groovy. From a time when Greek's and Italian's were new immigrants to the 'lucky country' and brought with them delicious recipes with long names that are still being mispronounced.

"I'll have a Spanner...(long pause)...co-op-pita?" Says the still helmeted cyclist, who then hurries out sinking teeth into pastry and a little bit of serrated paper bag edge. I do believe the plastic curtain tendrils of the door that inflict annoying cheek slaps are payback from the Melissa staff for the amount of massacred Greek words they listen to each day. But trust me, it's worth it.

The pastry is flaky yet crisp, the spinach to cheese ratio is spot on and the size makes it a substantial lunch. My only dilemma is choosing whether to get Spanakopita or Tiropita. I usually do a quick calculation of my supposed iron levels. If I feel a little low and unhealthy I go with the spinach filled and therefore iron containing Spanikopita. If I feel well and defiant...I trust in my youthful health and demolish a very cheesy (no spinach) and therefore unbelievably delicious Tiropita.

The pastries are what people walk off the street for at Melissa's, but if you have time I insist you pay the extra 20cents and eat in. It's really special. The chairs are brown, the floors are brown and the table tops are beige faux-wood paneled linoleum (try saying that with a mouth full of Baklava). Each table has a little flower arrangement and paper serviettes. Nothing has been changed since the 70s, including the extensive drinks list which boasts milk shakes, spiders AND thick shakes. There is even a handwritten sign tacked onto the wall, 'Chai Latte Available', Melissa has moved with the times. Beware that if you plan on drinking in the presence of this lovely decor it will cost you 50cents more than take away.

Also it is a 'cake shop', so you can purchase sweet treats. I have only tasted the baklava, which was a excellent. But I urge you to be less health conscious and try them all. I have my eye on, but have managed to resist, the syrup drenched wedges of cake and the white powdered mound of Kourabiedes. My resistance is weakening though and you may have an add on to this review soon.

So do practice your Greek and order a Spanakopita or Tiropita from Melissa's Cake Shop, but do remember they're not open Sunday.

God Save Afternoon Tea

Busy, busy, busy! I adore being busy, there is nothing like having little calendar boxes to look forward to. Unfortunately busyness can get to the point of consumption; every event becomes another dreaded chore and you feel the calendar grazing your cheek as it flips through your life. At this point I like to organise every meal, because no matter how busy you are, food will need to be consumed for your important continuation in the great calendar of life.

May I suggest, afternoon tea?

May I also suggest that it be at the Hopetoun Tea Rooms in Melbourne's Block Arcade?

My first outing to the the Hopetoun was as an infant in the superior company of mother and grandmama. From then on days in town were always fueled by scones and sandwiches at the Hopetoun. Alas at this bratty age I did not share my mother's love for the place and would frequently whine abominable sentences such as "I want a Happy Meal, such and such plastic figurine is all I will ever want or need in life." Well, maybe I indulge myself and was not quite so polite or philosophical. It still doesn't change the fact that I would drag my patent leather shoes into shreds and sit glaring at the brocade walls as mother tried to force nourishment and refinement into my obstinate self.

Time continues and now I am a young lady who looks and acts a lot like my mother, and therefore delights in afternoon tea at the Hopetoun. Recently being a very busy lady I arranged to kill two birds with one scone (sorry I think puns are scrumptious) and combined mealtime with meeting mother, sadly grandmama passed away in the middle of infancy to now.
We shared a delightful meal of non-stop chatter and gossip, encouraged by the devilishly brocaded walls and unwitting persons who tread the Block Arcade tiles. To nourish I ate three asparagus rolls which were just a bit too heavy with mayonnaise and selected a dessert worth writing about. The Almond and Coconut Cake was heaven with a scoop of ice cream and a fresh strawberry. The texture was smooth and there was no hint of dryness or age. The flavor was not too sweet as is the case with many store dessert cakes, and the ice cream added a lovely base to the delicate coconut/almond combination. After dessert I regretted not getting the cucumber sandwiches which are perfect for summer and would have anticipated the delicateness of the dessert. Mother dearest went very traditional and digested pin wheel sandwiches and almost all of her plum pudding which was particularly fine and filling.

My only warning to other Hopetoun tea goers, is to ask for a jug of hot water with your pot of tea. That way you will get three cups each from the pot, instead of two. Also the service is more casual due to a change in ownership but one must move with the times and be a little more assertive for good service.

Happy Hopetouning!