4 /5 Baggage Claim Philosopher: I’m at Smithburg in the South Melbourne Market more often than I care to admit, which is already a problem because admitting it would require self-reflection. This place has me in a chokehold. The lobster rolls with chilli are divine, rich, indulgent, slightly reckless, and yes, the crispy chilli clearly comes out of a bottle, but I’m willing to forgive that because I choose to believe the lobsters themselves are local residents, possibly with mortgages.
Then there’s the cheeseburger, which rates as one of the best in Melbourne, and I don’t say that lightly or soberly. I bloody agree with the consensus, the rumours, and my own increasingly unreliable judgment. It’s perfectly balanced, unapologetic, and deeply comforting in a way that suggests someone here understands the human condition.
My only real complaint is the locals. There are too many of them. They need to stop congregating, stop blocking the aisles, stop having opinions, and let me shop in peace. I have emotional errands to run. I don’t need to queue behind someone debating heirloom tomatoes while I’m trying to emotionally recover from a cheeseburger.
The American-style pour-over coffee sealed the deal and effectively made my Christmas Eve, which says more about my priorities than I’m comfortable with. Now I’m caffeinated, overfed, vaguely happy, and pretending I still need to buy presents.