Martin FrimetCourt in the Middle
April 4th 2008 00:27
I guess in reality it’s some kind of masochism, but I can’t seem to help it. I don’t know if it’s just me or if anyone else likes to do it also, but I can easily spend hours at a time browsing through fancy delis and high-class food stores, even when I have neither the right amount of time or money to act on my perversion and actually buy anything. To that end, one of my greatest pleasures comes walking through large markets or food courts, looking for something I might not have seen or heard of before, and hoping to find the one item for that day that looks just too different or too delicious or just too plain deranged for me not to try it at least once in my lifetime. Any readers who have been through the Harrods food court in London may understand the kind of torment that faced me as I wondered which of the Aladdin’s cave of delicacies contained therein I could afford to take out of my wallet and put into my stomach when I visited for an afternoon that still rates as one of my finest eating experiences.
As far as Melbourne goes, the closest it gets to that kind of food fantasia comes in the shape of two large food courts, housed respectively in two giant superstores; Myer and David Jones, which stand either side of Bourke Street in the very coursing centre of the city.
To the left, a simple Food Court sign attracts you down one small escalator into the David Jones version, and, before my feet had hit the ground, this place was an instant hit. Plainly decorated in a soft white, the food is clearly the star here with a large range of fresh fish, meat and deli cabinets stocked fully and clearly. There is something to attract any taste-bud down here, whether it be the sturdy salad counter, the inventive natural yoghurt cabinet, the almost-too-tempting baked smells wafting from the pastry section or the rainbow display of fresh fruits and nuts that sprinkles the very heart of the space in vibrant multi-colour.
Those wishing to really take their time down here can even settle down at respective sandwich, sushi or pizza bars, each manned by a team of busy staff members who seem at least as interested in preparing their respective foods with care as they are in entertaining you. The court also has a vast array of exotic (and suitably expensive) bottles, jars and boxes, as well as an extravagant confectionery counter offering a range of tempting homespun offerings as well as famous international fare from brands like Lindt and, my favourite and a rare treat in these parts, Reese’s fiendishly delicious Peanut Butter Cups.
In a relatively small space, David Jones Food Court is everything a top-end establishment of this type should be; namely a supermarket for the rich and a super treat for everyone else.
The food court at Myer, by contrast, is rather more difficult to find. First, visitors have to snake their way along four floors of badly laid out escalators. Even then, on arrival at the fourth floor, I had some questions as to whether I had made it to the food area yet or whether I was just in fact stuck in some weird kind of M. C. Escher-style void, destined forever to stare at the displays of towels, duvets and electrical items.
My mood barely improved as the first sign of any type of food up there was a display of soiled, stolid-looking Easter chocolates among other out-of-season sale items. It was only my inner angst for the chance of some new discovery that led me to keep on looking and, eventually, find a more concentrated display.
Where David Jones was pure white, however, the Myer display was more of a murky yellow. Tired looking sandwiches and waxy sushi rolls hid behind smudged sheets of glass. A pick n’mix sweet display which could have offered so much instead looked badly malnourished itself,while the dreary in-house coffee bar looked as if it had been modelled on a nearby freeway service station rather than crafted with any art or interest. Stuck in the upper bowels of the store, the Myer food court had nothing of the smells, the sights or the selections that can otherwise make my blood start to pump and my tongue start to sweat.
Thus, though these two stores are of comparative size and structure and set on separate sides of the same street, their respective foodie fare could not be any further apart and, in thier own small microcosm, provide a perfect illustration of the right and wrong ways to approach food.
David Jones
Bourke Street Mall
310 Bourke Street
Melbourne
Myer
295 Lonsdale Street
Melbourne
As far as Melbourne goes, the closest it gets to that kind of food fantasia comes in the shape of two large food courts, housed respectively in two giant superstores; Myer and David Jones, which stand either side of Bourke Street in the very coursing centre of the city.
To the left, a simple Food Court sign attracts you down one small escalator into the David Jones version, and, before my feet had hit the ground, this place was an instant hit. Plainly decorated in a soft white, the food is clearly the star here with a large range of fresh fish, meat and deli cabinets stocked fully and clearly. There is something to attract any taste-bud down here, whether it be the sturdy salad counter, the inventive natural yoghurt cabinet, the almost-too-tempting baked smells wafting from the pastry section or the rainbow display of fresh fruits and nuts that sprinkles the very heart of the space in vibrant multi-colour.
Those wishing to really take their time down here can even settle down at respective sandwich, sushi or pizza bars, each manned by a team of busy staff members who seem at least as interested in preparing their respective foods with care as they are in entertaining you. The court also has a vast array of exotic (and suitably expensive) bottles, jars and boxes, as well as an extravagant confectionery counter offering a range of tempting homespun offerings as well as famous international fare from brands like Lindt and, my favourite and a rare treat in these parts, Reese’s fiendishly delicious Peanut Butter Cups.
In a relatively small space, David Jones Food Court is everything a top-end establishment of this type should be; namely a supermarket for the rich and a super treat for everyone else.
The food court at Myer, by contrast, is rather more difficult to find. First, visitors have to snake their way along four floors of badly laid out escalators. Even then, on arrival at the fourth floor, I had some questions as to whether I had made it to the food area yet or whether I was just in fact stuck in some weird kind of M. C. Escher-style void, destined forever to stare at the displays of towels, duvets and electrical items.
My mood barely improved as the first sign of any type of food up there was a display of soiled, stolid-looking Easter chocolates among other out-of-season sale items. It was only my inner angst for the chance of some new discovery that led me to keep on looking and, eventually, find a more concentrated display.
Where David Jones was pure white, however, the Myer display was more of a murky yellow. Tired looking sandwiches and waxy sushi rolls hid behind smudged sheets of glass. A pick n’mix sweet display which could have offered so much instead looked badly malnourished itself,while the dreary in-house coffee bar looked as if it had been modelled on a nearby freeway service station rather than crafted with any art or interest. Stuck in the upper bowels of the store, the Myer food court had nothing of the smells, the sights or the selections that can otherwise make my blood start to pump and my tongue start to sweat.
Thus, though these two stores are of comparative size and structure and set on separate sides of the same street, their respective foodie fare could not be any further apart and, in thier own small microcosm, provide a perfect illustration of the right and wrong ways to approach food.
David Jones
Bourke Street Mall
310 Bourke Street
Melbourne
Myer
295 Lonsdale Street
Melbourne
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