Sfoglia

One tyranny of life in Australasia these days is what might be called an ever-expanding 'manners of casualness'. Even when the most serious events are being undertaken, there is a widespread norm to maintain a lack of gravity, to keep "keep things relaxed" or, worse, "just chilled out".

While "laid-backness" has perhaps always been comparatively a feature of life in this part of the world, it does seem to be getting ever-more pervasive. Its intrusion has been particularly pronounced in the world of public affairs. For example, in a recent press conference a senior (male) executive of a major Australian firm announced the controversial laying off of 1500 employees, but did not feel the need to be seen wearing a tie. This would have been unimaginable 20 or even 10 years ago. We don't advocate formality and seriousness for its own sake, but simply that the gravity, complexities, and difficulties of life should be properly and honestly recognised, including in everyday activities such as preparation of food.

Accordingly, we like Sfoglia, a small Italian cafe in Dickson. While the food is excellent and well priced (try the $5 bruchetta), its main point of difference is that the staff seem to take their work seriously, in the proper non-pejorative sense of the word. There is little inessential banter and focused-looking faces. While the staff may not be continually smiling, they are certainly not unfriendly. Rather, they communicate a concern with serving delicious food quickly, as a third way between ingratiation or apathy towards customers. Refreshing.

Urambi Hills Bakery

One things we've noticed in passing recently is small businesses where older owner-operators don't seem to be able to let go or acknowledge change - in the sense of an apparent generalised hostility to any potential customers under the age of 50 or so. We grant that certain characteristics of certain cohorts of young people, in certain circumstances, are worthy of some disdain. However, if you are willing to categorically assume the worst about all young people, some self-examination, at the very least, is surely in order?

After coming across a couple such businesses in the space of a morning the other day it was refreshing to find the Urambi Hills Bakery on Altree Street in Phillip (i.e. the Woden Town Centre area). Instead of the embittered aged, we came across two teenagers being teenagers while happening to run, or at least front for, an OK sort of a bakery in the light industrial bit of Woden across Hindmarsh Drive. To eat we had a couple of antipasto pastries, which although perhaps not being Silo-class goodies, were nonetheless cheap ($3 each), and delicious. During their consumption we had the chance to read The Daily Telegraph (something we don't do everyday) left on the table by the previous customer, while two young men came independently of one another, flirted with the aforementioned teenagers, and then departed to sell cars and bicycles respectively. Cake paraphernalia, and signage about organic flour suggested that these were also specialities of the place, along with generally friendly, unaccusing service. Probably not worth a trip, but maybe a good option if you're nearby.

Turkish Pide House

In one of Pulp's less well known songs, Jarvis Cocker sings with lament of someone who is "like a friend" to him. At the beginning of the song Jarvis implores the said person to "Don't bother saying you're sorry/why don't you come in/come on in now/wipe your feet on my dreams". As the song develops Cocker runs through a string of critical analogies to this friendship: "the last drink I never should have drunk", "the car I never should have bought", "the party that makes me feel my age", and so on. Clearly, while he is accutely aware of the unreliability of this "like a friend", Cocker is also apparently compelled to forgive them for almost any transgression.

We too perhaps have similar relationships with a couple of restaurants and cafes around Canberra. We continue to go to Izumi freely despite one of us' gripes with the frequently shrinking portions and missing ingredients, and the other's frequently feeling sick afterwards due to the food's greasiness.

Our relationship with the Turkish Pide House can probably be seen in a broadly like vein. In this case the flaw we cannot help but to ignore is the variability of quality of the food we've both eaten in and taken away. At their best, the House's pides are wholey delicious and possibly the cheapest way to feed two people well in Civic for less than $15. At their worst, as we experienced recently, the pides are one or all of undercooked, understuffed, dry, or just plain dull. The "banquet" we once had there was also very mediocre in both food quality and pricing.

To clarify using other pop song staple themes, this is not a tainted love, a hopeless devotion, or an addiction. Rather, despite itself and its perpetual half-emptiness, the Pide House is a friendship of ours that we can't turn our back on, for reasons we can't fully explain. We'll probably take our chances there again.

Happy's

We're not sure why, but apparently the ALP has historically preferred to do much of its business in Chinese restaurants. In one of many instances of this phenomenon that we've come across, in his diaries, Mark Latham, for example, recounts members of his dining party adopting the persona of Kofi Annan and making prank calls to Gareth Evans' farewell dinner across town from the Civic restaurant The Chairman and Yip.

We have no idea if Happy's is likewise popular among Labor officials, but if we were ever to scout locations for a film featuring discrete deals among party heavyweights in a dim restaurant, we're fairly sure we'd put it at the top of our shortlist. Downstairs, off Garema Place in Civic, Happy's is what could be described as a traditional Australian-Chinese restaurant, complete with a giant mural of the Great Wall. Being underground, often slightly crowded - with only one way in or out - and with a few disorientating design oddities (such as the elevated bathrooms), the place has a feel of slight unease and surreptitiousness that perfectly insinuates where we think insider politics ought to be done.

Foodwise, we recall things being pretty good, although typically when we have visited in the past it has generally been in a celebratory mood, with large groups of friends. Similarly, the staff are generally friendly - unless it's 11:00pm on a Monday evening and your party (who have also been the only customers in the restaurant for over an hour) doesn't appear to want to leave any time soon. At about this point, you'll be given a plate of sliced fruit, which is apparently a sign that you should leave very shortly.

Overall, as well as perhaps incongruously transporting us to a world of factional struggles, for us, Happy's otherwise generally lives up to its name when we're looking for Chinese in Civic.

Probably the best subterranean restaurant in Canberra.

Starbucks (2)

Further to the previous post, it seems the "We're-too-sophisticated-for-Starbucks" meme has spread to Auckland. Local leading left-liberal blogger, Russell Brown has written:

"On a related tip, will the shoe drop here too, after Starbucks' decision to close 61 of 84 stores in Australia? I was quite surprised to discover that we have more than 40 Starbucks outlets here. As the Financial Times put it:

The chain has been the victim of an ill-fated push in Australia, a market it only entered in 2000.

Starbucks was snubbed by many Australians, who have grown up on a diet of quality European-style coffee introduced in the last century to Australia by immigrants, especially from Italy.

It's interesting to see how differently Starbucks' present global difficulties can be viewed. US author Bryant Simon contends that Starbucks "sold not coffee but elevated status", and that had been a key to its consumer appeal.

Not here it wasn't: Starbucks has never been cool in New Zealand, except perhaps to kids who should really still have been drinking milkshakes. It might play its role in more meagre coffee markets, but here it's strictly for dorks and tourists."

Hmmmm. Again it looks like a lot of people want to read this event in a certain way. Again, we are sceptical that the same Australasian publics who have thoroughly embraced any number of fast food chains of questionable culinary merit, have somehow drawn a line at Starbucks.

Yes, it is possible, but is it really that plausible? Especially considering that there are still a lot of other mediocre coffee outlets out there that do not happen to be Starbucks, and which don't seem to be going away any time soon through mass consumer rejection.

Brown's comments on status and "dorks" are telling. We suspect that "dorks" - understood here as unfashionable people, generally living and working in unfashionable places beyond inner city suburbs - are a much larger market than Brown gives credit to, and who would be more than capable of supporting the few dozen Starbucks, (let alone all the Gloria Jeans, etc.) outlets across Australia and New Zealand. In short, this is probably not about demand, but rather supply, and short-term head office strategy.

We could be wrong, but we think this episode all says much more about the self-image and practices of a certain broad milieu of journalists, rather than the discernment or consciousness of most consumers.

Starbucks

Being for the most part tea people, we don't really drink much coffee, and even less espresso. So, the news of the closure of a bunch of Starbucks around Australia, including all of the outlets in the ACT, probably has less impact on us than on others (and in any case, chains and such are not really our thing).

Perhaps the most interesting thing about this event though is how it become widely framed as a triumph of Australian connoisseurship. We've seen stories in the SMH, the Canberra Times, the Murdoch press, and Crikey, all carrying the same basic narrative - Australian consumers have rejected Starbucks due to their superior tastes, predicated on the availability of superior espresso via mass Italian immigration. The evidence cited is that Australia is only the country, outside of the US, that has had stores shut en masse, coinciding with the firm running into financial difficulties.

Overall, this generally strikes us as a deeply spurious argument. As a corrective to Australian exceptionalism there is, as always, New Zealand as a mirror to the Australian experience. Trans-Tasman one-upmanship aside, coffee in NZ is generally comparable to that in Australia - the average espresso-based coffee in Wellington would match the average in Melbourne. However, Italian migration to NZ (and by implication the supposed "Italian immigration factor" on supply and demand) has historically been nothing like that to Australia, and can probably be safely ruled out as a variable. Yet, Starbucks will continue its current level of operations in Auckland, Wellington, etc.

Conversely, to examine the "Italian immigration factor" from another angle, Argentina, of course, was historically one of largest recipients of Italian emigration - probably to a greater extent than Australia - but according to Wikipedia, Starbucks will continue to operate there. Additionally, to undermine the "unique Australian coffee culture" argument further, it would appear that Starbucks will also continue doing business in other countries with indisputable "coffee cultures" (e.g. the Netherlands, or Austria).

All of this does not absolutely rule out the possibility of Australian exceptionalism - however, we need a bit more evidence to be convinced, including the more definitive ruling out of alternative explanations (e.g. exchange rate issues, comparative overstretch by the local subsidiary, the possibility of the sale of the Australian operations providing a relatively easy cashflow, and so on.)