My friends Renae and Kurt were once again very generous in opening their home to me and went out of their way to show off their state, Victoria. We had spent a number of days in Ballarat exploring various mineral springs, driving the Great Ocean Road and playing with kangaroos and koalas. Marvelous creatures.  Unfortunately, the “boomers” seemed to like Diana a little too much and this resulted in an awkward chase scene at a local animal park.

To make-up for the overdose of rural Australia, we made our way to Victoria’s capital, Melbourne. I really wasn’t sure what to expect of Melbourne. My past experience was that everyone from Australia seemed to be from there but it never seemed to get the attention on TV that Sydney did. The exception to this rule was when MuchMusic pulled out stock video footage of AC/DC’s “It’s a long way to the Top (If you want to Rock ‘n Roll)” which was shot in the streets of Melbourne.  Based on this, the only logical conclusion that any potential tourist would come to is that Sydney is the place to go and that Melbourne has bag pipes.

As a food critic, I’m here to tell you that nothing could be further from the truth. Melbourne is an epicurean wonderland full of backstreet cafes, bars and restaurants. Lygon street, famous for its upmarket Italian bistros is a perfect example of the worldly cuisine found in the city. If you follow it far enough north, into East Brunswick, you will find Kake Di Hatti; a dirty little Indian place which reams of curry goodness.

Like many curry houses outside Canada, but still within the Commonwealth, Kake Di Hatti is BYOB. We stopped at a bottle shop across the street and picked up some beer; Tasmania’s Cascade Lager. “Tazzie”, like Newfoundland, has some pristine beauty but is the brunt of many a joke. One difference may be that I don’t think any man here in Canada has been slapped for using, “Show me your little map of Newfoundland” as a pick up line in a bar. The beer was decent but nothing insanely special. Renae drank an entire bottle of wine. She is a souse. Kidding, of course.

We walked into a very boisterous, busy restaurant and were soon joined by Renae and Kurt’s friends Brock and Erin. Brock has apparently been eating at KDH for years and notes the marker-written “Daily Special” has not changed once. Ah, the mark of a good curry house!  Another good clue: Staff whose English is very poor. We had to ask on repeated occasions for wine glasses and beer mugs, only to have other pieces of dining ware (corkscrews, spatulas) brought instead.

We ordered a mixed appetizer platter which was sensational. It consisted of spicy samosas, onion bhaji and paneer pakoras with a tangy tamarind sauce. This was followed by a discussion about whether to share meals or order for ourselves. Inevitably, when I go out for curry with a large group, this discussion will always come up at some point. If Ren and I are there, we will lobby (usually to no avail) not to share. This is because we know what’s good and have every desire to hoard those dishes. No sense wasting plate space on something wimpy like dhal, which Renae ordered.  She’s an excellent host and a great friend but her incessant desire to eat lentils disappoints me to no end. Did I mention she drank an entire bottle of wine?  Kidding, of course.

Kurt went with Lamb Saag and Erin has Chicken Korma. Both seemed pleased. Brock ordered a Vindaloo which he proceeded to put away like it was a bowl of Ice Cream. I don’t think he even broke a sweat. He must have a stainless steel tongue. Impressive to say the least.
As for Diana and I, we split two phenomenal dishes of Shahi Paneer and Chicken Madras. Absolutely perfect. Too bad the naan didn’t hold up – it was overcooked/burnt. However, for the most part this was the curry experience I was looking for: Dodgy dining room. Tasty curry. Decent beer. Good friends. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Having said that, Kake Di Hatti scores an 8/10

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