A cold breeze blows in on old Melbourne town. I think it must come from the south pole but I base this assumption on nothing more than just what I reckon.

We disembarked our aircraft, and then immediately headed to China Town (or whatever they call the Asian precinct down here) to fill our bellies with the delicacy collectively known to us white-ish coloured folk as yum cha.

The yum cha met all of the necessary requirements to satisfy the international yum cha moderation committee. Maitre de in a 38 dollar suit shouting instructions to any one who puts their head through the door. Random seafood in fishtanks near the counter. Wait staff speaking only broken English. A high percent of clientele indigenous to yum cha land.
Doilys under the prawn toasts. And of course, the ubiquitous yum cha cart.

Oh, and all of my yum cha faves. Calamari tenticles, sui mai, pork and tripe dumplings, steamed rice paper rolls, steamed pork buns, chicken feet, pork spare rib, scallop dumpling, spring rolls… the list goes on and on.

So needless to say we ate. And if you haven’t been, you should to.

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