A drizzly Melbourne morning.

Your tram was fifteen minutes late, filled with gossipy schoolgirls and their swinging ponytails.  The café is filling up, the takeaway window crowded with faces.

Coffee up!

Coffee up!

I said, coffee up!

Your barista is moodily pouring out an endless clatter of coffees. He’s been wearing the same faded shirt, that black one with the ninja, for three days. He barely acknowledges you, just wordlessly hands you the first of many flat whites. You swirl your teaspoon through it and take a little taste before tying on your apron. You try and assess the dining room, but before your eyes can scan beyond the oddly piratelike looking man at table two, you hear that thick Israeli accent cry out;

Coffee up!

He hits the bell and looks at you. Two flat whites and a skinny latte for table sixteen. You place them on little saucers, along with a scattering of Tiny Teddy biscuits and a teaspoon and carry them to a round table by the big window. 

You pour two cool glasses of water for your newest arrival, a mother and daughter. They're regulars here, and always get the same latte orders; one soy and one extra hot. Sometimes the daughter comes alone, and when she does, she gets a strawberry muffin. You saw her once, at the Prahran markets, but you couldn't place how you recognised her until hours later, while watching The Voice, it just came to you. Funny how that happens, isn't-

Ding!

Food up!

Poached eggs on Turkish bread with Vegemite, eggs royale, eggs florentine, table nine.

You run the plates over to the table. A middle aged woman and a younger couple. Vegemite toast for the man, eggs Florentine for the young lady, and-

What is this? I didn’t order this.

Apparently, that new backpacker waiter completely misunderstood the woman’s order. She wants Spanish eggs, not eggs royale- not entirely sure how the bloke mixed the two up. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task of telling the chef. She’s intimidating; a lanky, angular ex-surfer with a steely glare.

Table nine wanted Spanish eggs, not eggs royale. I’m sorry.

Swearing under her breath, your chef fills a little clay dish with a piquant chorizo laden tomato sauce. Her teary-eyed sous chef looks up from his pile of shallots and winks at you.

Using a wooden spoon, she makes two wells in the sauce, and drops in two eggs. She sprinkles over some salt and then throws the whole thing under the grill.  You bring a big spoon to the table and whisk away the offending eggs royale, bringing them to where you have been sporadically sipping your coffee. 

As the morning passes, you quietly pick at the lady’s castoff eggs royale, which are good- the café does a nice lemony hollandaise that goes beautifully with the fatty, smoky salmon. It’s nice, but you wish it had been the Spanish eggs that were gifted upon you this morning. Those Spanish eggs are just so robust and flavourful, especially with toasted Turkish bread on the side.

Later that night, you are inspired to try your own version for dinner. Perhaps it looks something like this:

Melbourne café eggs

1 small onion, chopped

2 cloves of garlic, chopped

1/4 cup chorizo, cut into lardons

2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved

1 small red pepper, chopped

1 tsp sherry

1 1/2 cup water

1 tbsp tomato paste

1/2 tsp sugar

1/8 cup olive oil

1/2 tsp cumin

1/2 tsp smoked paprika

1/8 tsp cayenne pepper

4 eggs

1.     In a shallow, heavy bottomed pan, heat a bit of oil and add garlic and onions. Cook until translucent and fragrant.

2.     Add chorizo and render out a bit of fat. Add tomatoes and peppers and sautee.

3.     Add the sherry and give it a good stir.

4.     Add water and tomato paste, stir to combine, and season with salt and pepper. Bring the mixture to boil. 

5.     Meanwhile, combine oil with cumin, paprika and cayenne. Season with a bit of salt.

6.     Reduce the heat of the tomato mixture and stir through the seasoned oil. Reduce heat to low.

7.     Gently crack four eggs into the sauce. It helps to use a spoon to create little wells for each egg. Season eggs with salt and pepper. 

8.     Cover pan and cook on very low heat for 5 minutes, or until egg whites are just set.

Serve with bread.

What do you eat for breakfast?

“Toasted muesli, Greek yoghurt, honey and milk and sliced fruit.”

Tom, Queensland, Australia

Tropical toasted museli

Driving around Queensland, I was delighted to find farmstands everywhere. Ripe, fragrant tropical fruits were abundant; mangoes, papaya, bananas, pineapples, not to mention fruits I'd never encountered before, such as sapote and lucuma. I even met a pair of hitchhikers who had spent the previous six months climbing palms and selling coconuts to tourists at the Daintree National Park.

Muesli, originally a Swiss invention, has taken on a life of it's own in Australia. It is immensely popular with fruit and yoghurt, and is also sometimes sold at bakeries, pressed into a "slice." Here, we infuse it with the sunny flavours of Queensland. I imagine this would be especially delicious with yoghurt and passionfruit pulp!

2 cups plain oats

1/2 cup banana chips, broken up

1/4 cup dried papaya, cut into bite sized pieces

1/4 cup dried pineapple, cut into bite sized pieces

1/2 cup desiccated coconut

2/3 cup dry roasted macadamias, coarsely chopped

2/3 cup pineapple juice

1 1/2 tablespoons canola oil

2 teaspoons honey

A large pinch of salt

1.   Preheat your oven to 300°F (150°C).

2.   Combine all ingredients and mix thoroughly.

3.   On a baking sheet, spread the mixture so it makes one even layer.

4.   Bake for 20-25 minutes.

Allow the museli to cool, and then transfer to a nice jar or container. 

What are your favourite fruits?

"Maracuyá and watermelon."

Dana, Buenos Aires, Argentina

Passionfruit Butter

Maracuyá, or as it's known in English, passionfruit, is a vine fruit with a delightfully sweet and tangy pulp. It is native to South America, but grows beautifully in many warm climates.

If you are a fan of lemon curd, you will fall in love its Aussie cousin, passionfruit butter. I bought a little jar of this one afternoon at one of Sydney's lovely weekend markets, and was hooked immediately. This bright, punchy concoction can be used with practically anything; toast, cakes, scones, ice cream, yoghurt, you name it. This is spreadable gold, a jar full of sunshine brought to you by the southern hemisphere.  

If fresh passionfruit is not available where you live, you can buy it frozen or tinned in South American grocers.

1 stick butter (1/2 cup)

1 cup sugar

14 oz passionfruit pulp

4 eggs, whisked

Create a double boiler by boiling a pan of water and placing a second pan or heatproof bowl on top, making sure the boiling water doesn’t touch the bottom of the top pan. Once water is boiling, reduce heat to medium.

On top of your double boiler, melt butter with sugar.

In a medium bowl, whisk together passionfruit and eggs. Stir into the butter and eggs.

Stir constantly until mixture has thickened and coats the back of a wooden spoon.

Strain, if you wish.

Spoon into a sterilized jar. After it has cooled down, store in the fridge. 

What do you eat for breakfast?

"Oats, berries, milk and cinnamon." 

Rebecca, Stockholm, Sweden