Weekend Bonus: The Edible Australian Open
On "The Tennis", where the players eat, and what I ate.
Happy weekend dear readers. Please enjoy this little bonus piece this week, something I was planning to deploy elsewhere that didn’t come to pass. Think of it as the equivalent of the 13th oyster in your dozen, or the bonus chicken nugget in your fries. -Jay
The festivalisation of the Australian Open has been a boon to the digestively minded in Melbourne’s social sect. This year’s event saw Sydney’s consultant gunslinger and Insta heartthrob Joel Bennetts serving spicy prawn rolls at the Courtside Bar, and hometown hummus hustler Tom Sarafian helming brunch at Bar Atrium. But the real action is inside the ultra-exclusive Founders Club, which has usurped the Birdcage, the Portsea Polo and the private room at Gimlet as Melbourne’s must-be-seen-at location. The lavishness of the constantly replenished buffet spread by The Big Group was a sight to behold, Melbourne’s powerbrokers setting the agenda for 2024 over wallaby salami and bottomless flutes of Piper-Heidsieck. The offering was almost as remarkable as the sudden, profound interest in tennis that seems to envelop Melbourne’s socialites for two weeks every January.
Outside of the manicured confines of the Melbourne Park compound, those that play the actual tennis prefer a more casual setting. Famously, Lleyton Hewitt would host luminaries such as Andre Agassi and Rafael Nadal over flour tortillas at since-closed South Yarra Mexican joint Fiesta; as far as culinary ambassadors go, Hewitt made an excellent tennis player. Thornbury’s beloved GRK Greek Kitchen & Bar was the location chosen for a meeting between Nick Kyrgrios, Thanasi Kokkinakis and 2023 AO finalist Stefanos Tsitsipas. Seemingly responding to some sort of Greek athlete Bat-signal, Carlton champion and one-time souvlaki mogul Anthony Koutoufides appeared to apparate from nowhere to join the party, forming a sort of Hellenic Avengers.
But there is perhaps no better connected restaurateur in Melbourne during January than Michael Popovic, the owner of Albert Park’s Mediterraneo Charcoal Restaurant. The low-key local eatery transforms into the unofficial clubhouse for southeastern European tennis players during the AO. On any given night, the likes of Kekmanovic, Cacic and Djere can be found at Mediterraneo enjoying steaks and Serbian fare, but it is Popovic’s connection to the elusive king of Melbourne Park Novak Djokovic that is of keenest interest. The 10 time champion prefers a more reclusive Melbourne existence these days, travelling exclusively between Rod Laver Arena and his private residence, but he will make a special exception to collect takeaway from Popovic. It’s a far cry from Novak’s rival Roger Federer, whose Crown Towers extravagance and standing reservation at Rockpool Bar & Grill are the stuff of legend. Yours truly recalls seeing the Swiss maestro happily charging glasses of Grange from across the room the night before the 2010 Men’s Final, which he of course won in straight sets.
My own gastronomic tennis going experience was a touch underwhelming this year. Whilst I wouldn’t say I’m a tennis expert, I follow the sport closer than most, and have been going to the AO for 20 years. I have long maintained that the AO ground pass, particularly early in the opening week, is the best value in world sport; with some planning, you can see an incredible amount of seeded, world-class players for your dollar. A newsletter about food & drink isn’t the place to air my grievances about Tennis Australia, but needless to say, this is no longer the case; the decision to spread the event to a 15th day, thusly diminishing the amount of games available on a ground pass and cutting the “premium” matches played on ticketed courts by 33%, was pure greed.
What can’t be faulted is the event’s amenities and layout; truly as good as any sporting event in the world, and if the brief was to make the AO a can’t-miss summer festival, they’ve succeeded. Our day began by jumping in the queue at Richmond’s Hugo’s to celebrate their 2nd birthday. Free fairy bread provided the merriment whilst we waited for Hugo’s signature steak frites baguette, delightfully doused in Cafe de Paris butter and seasoned luxuriously with french fries and capers. About as indulgent a breakfast as one could muster.
Once inside, the agenda turned to more refreshing fare, as we scouted Grand Slam oval (as we know, the tennis falls into the same category as airports and Christmas Day; there are no limits on what time one may commence drinking). Suitably lubricated and after a most agreeable espresso from Brunetti, we ventured off for a brief tennis distraction before setting our minds to lunch.
After much conjecture, and despite an impassioned plea from yours truly, it was decided that Charlie Carrington’s Cubano stall Little Havana would be our destination. I was outvoted, despite my insistence that I am, in fact, a hugely influential and dynamic presence and tastemaker in the food industry, my compatriots preferring to label me a “wanker” and joining the anaconda-sized queue. Knowing as I do the challenges of serving food at busy festival events and the wait time notwithstanding, the grub was pretty good. I’m not personally a fan of Carrington’s particular brand of cultural appropriation, but our Cubanos were warm, fresh and well seasoned, and the fries with mojo sauce were tasty. Play on.
After more tennis and a thorough examination of Melbourne Park’s libations, we waddled back to Grand Slam Oval for an afternoon snack. Nothing could seem more fitting than a visit to Melbourne institution Stalactites’ stall, where we each decided that “Stef’s Lamb Slam”, a tribute to the aforementioned Tsitsipas, was too appropriate to pass up. Chomping away on a tender lamb shoulder pita with salad, feta and chips, it dawned on me that I was eating my third separate preparation of deep fried potato for the day, and that this represented extraordinary poor judgement on my behalf. Still, there are no limits at the tennis, and seemingly, no limit to the scale and ambition of this festival. Gazing out at the sea of revellers, the AO may not be the die-hard tennis fan’s nirvana it once was, but in terms of its importance in our city, it has become so much more.