Buongiorno, bonjour and “g’day”! (don't you like how they're all the same thing? ~ who knew Australian vernacular was so cosmopolitan???).

Also, "a good day to you, sir/maam" for our American pals, "Ni Hao" to China, and "Здравствуй" to our Russian comrades, "etcetera etcetera and so forth"... (for Yul Brynner).

It’s your old pal Kit (Christof) Fennessy here. I've been writing this blog with your help for ten years, and there's over a hundred and fifty recipes, restaurant reviews of Australia and around the world, and general gourmet articles in these pages for you to fritter away your idle hours on.

Want to know more about me? Friend me on facebook, follow me on twitter, or even look up my New Yorker cartoons on instagram! NB; different platforms not all food related)

A big thank you, as always, to my sponsors at Blue Vapours (use them for all your design and advertising needs - we are waiting for your call!).

Now, what's on the bill of fare today?

Thursday, March 14, 2013


223 Victoria Street
West Melbourne VIC 3003
(03) 9328 1688

OK, I know what you're thinking.

"I'm a lady! I like lady things! Like pussy cats, and lace, and tea parties, and frills... and shit." (Little Britan)

Whatev's.  I popped in to Dolcetti, a kind of plaret (now I've Googled this word and there's nothin' - ploirette, plaré??? – answers on a postcard please), for a meeting yesterday, and realised how little I travel around Melbourne.

North-ish Melbourne?  West of Elizabeth St?  You're joking???

My friend Suze said "you should review this place."  So what the hey?  Here I am.

So, no booze.  It's Lent.  I always wondered what straight arses do to get their kicks, and it turns out, generally speaking, they eat sugar.  It comes in different packages; like Coca Cola™, maybe a packet of SnakesAlive™, dark chocolate, a bowl of ice cream.  Anything to fill that hole left by the liquid sugar in alkohol (sic - this is how they spell it in Slovakia, and they know a thing or two about booze there) form that meant you were gorging yourself on the equivalent of a dozen jam donuts a night.

Weren't you?


As you can plainly see, I am an alcoholic with recovering weight issues.  My goodness me, I saw a photo of myself at my wife's twenty-fifth birthday last year, and goddammit I was a fat fuck.

Strangely you don't see the weight on yourself when you look in the mirror.  You see a bit of jowl or love handle, you adjust your posture and think: "I'm not that bad".  Like stepping through Alice in Wonderland's Looking Glass*.  Then you see a photo out of all context and you think "Jesus Christ!"**

So there I was, meeting a couple of gurlz in a lady's place.  With lady things.

You know when you walk past those coffee houses and they're full of Muslims and people from Asia?  There's a reason.  They don't drink, but still like to socialise.  They're not a potato eating, dipsomaniac bog-Irish poisson, unlike some of us, with the advantages of a robust constitution (I hope) and an early introduction to the joys of vodka, gin and that all time classic – BEER.

Not that I've got anything against them.  It's a cultural thing.***

So there I was: a fish out of water, in a kind of patisserie... except they don't like you speaking French there.  Because they're Italian.

Well, I say that (that they're Italian).  I got the whole story, chapter and verse, from the broad behind the counter.  The store specialises in Italian pastries (or, to be more accurate "Sicilian inspired pasticcerie"), so they're big on those Italian custard donuts, nougat, cannolli (I had the cream cheese with cinnamon and pistachio nuts... two thumbs up!).

I said:
'You seem to know an awful lot about this place.  Is it yours?'
'Nope, but everyone asks me that.  I just begged them for a job here because I was spending too much money over the counter on cakes and things.'

She had blue eyes, and kept saying "us Sicilians, well, I say we..."; so I'm wondering about the Sicilian connection (a blue eyed Italian? from Sicily???).

I was there at lunch time so ordered the ONE savoury thing they had on the menu; a vegetarian tarte on flakey pastry.  Tip top.  With a coffee.  And a cannoli later.

I did say, when ordering:
'I'm watching my weight.  What can I order that won't make me fat?'
'Nothing here makes you fat.  That's junk food.  All of our customers are skinny.'
I looked around and she was quite right.

So, if you love da cake, please feel free to try Dolcetti.  I give it five tentacles, which considering I'm not into sweets, is quite an accomplishment.

It's my birthday today, so I am now leaving to go to a char-grilled meat joint on Lygon St. And drink.  Wine I think.  And probably won't be eating any cake.  Bless!

*  Not the actual title of a book.
**  With apologies to Jesus, and of course the newly appointed Pope Frank the First - good job BTW Frank, nice to have a Jesuit as Pope... though you'd think they could have picked someone who believed in God instead of a Jesuit.  Still, it's an improvement on having had a former member of the Hitler Youth in the top job... nuff said.
***  And by them, I mean vodka, gin and that all time classic – BEER...


Kit's Parents said...

Hi Kit, Happy birthday.

The contact for "Plares Cakes" is


Alternatively search for Ferguson plares cakes on the web. They have a wide range on show.

Have a great time tonight,
Lots of love from Geraldine and Denis.