For the love of pizza

362 Little Bourke Street, Melbourne

This story is not about how we met at  +39 Pizza Bar on a bustling Melbourne lane way for the love of pizza.  It is not about how too much food was ordered. Food restraint is not my forte. This time I blame it on the Italian accent, perhaps just rehearsed, but still, not helpful when it comes to saying no to a plate of bruschetta. 

Neither is this a story about the bottle of red we shared. I am not even going to mention how it had a grape-stomping party in my head the morning after.

This is a very short story about moments of life, little stills stitched together by the thread of time. Moments like these are the brightest threads in that thick, strangely cut fabric.

No agenda, just Mamasita

Level 1, 11 Collins Street, Melbourne

Cashmere coats and Armani suits abound. Office people uphold their importance with expensive good looks on the classy side of Collins Street. They rush around the Mamasita sign, treating their afternoon meeting agenda like a life-time commitment.

Me too, very important. My meeting agenda included a salt-ringed glass of margarita and char-grilled corn cobs in melted cheese, paprika and mayo. Keen Melbourne crowds queue just to get that. The word on the street is that Mamasita is an adventure. No, I do not like to queue, but I am always up for an adventure. I trick the crowds, and get in just before lunch time.

Braised goat tostada, a few margaritas and an icecream covered in popcorn. We do not need an agenda to have a killer of a meeting Mamasita, and I.