Melbourne Patron

On the Sunday of a long weekend in Adelaide's CBD, there's not much open. And when you're a caffeine addict like me, that is a terrible, terrible thing. Fortunately (well, unfortunately for her), my little sister has been privvy to my state when I have not been caffeinated in a timely manner before. So she used that clever technomalogical thingy called Googler or iCall or something to locate a cafe within walking distance for our breakfast and all-important caffeination. It was called Jam The Bistro  (112-114 Wright Street, Adelaide), and it was very nice. Being on holiday, we figured we deserved alcohol at breakfast time, so we had a Bellini each (prosecco with peach juice). Bellini-licious The coffee was made on a pretty red Ruggero, and was also served up all pretty-like: We both had the same thing for breakfast: a beautifully-presented concoction of smoked salmon bruschetta with poached eggs, goats curd and beetroot jam. As well as the fac...

The  Adelaide Fringe Festival  brings with it many wonders, including a host of excellent - but sadly temporary - pop-up bars. These usually build up a following through social media and word of mouth, and the lucky ones enjoy great reviews and constant custom. One such bar is  Little Miss Mexico  (188 Grenfell Street, Adelaide), squeezed into an L-shaped courtyard around the Crown and Anchor pub. Walking distance from "the Garden", Little Miss Mexico offers (surprise, surprise) Mexican-themed food and drinks in a vibrant and relaxed outdoor setting. It has partnered with Vinteloper Wines to offer delicious grapey drops through the Vinteloper Urban Winery Project  which, aside from the main bar, also features at a separate wine-tasting and sales counter. Vinteloper counter - "Nuggets of wisdom, free"! We popped in for a couple of drinks and some nibbles before heading out to a Fringe show that night. It was a delightful 36-degree d...

Adelaide (or "Radelaide" as I more often hear it referred to) holds special meaning for me, because it's where my parents grew up before they relocated to Sydney in the late 1970s. As a result, I've been there a lot - particularly as a kid with the family, mainly to see the grandfolks, when they were still around. We'd stay at their place in North Plympton, on an avenue of one-storey, sand-brick houses, each and every one with a tidy lawn, neatly-pruned rose bushes, and a low fence, over which you'd chat to the neighbours. We'd hang out in the back room (because that's where the air con was), with its tiled flooring, vertical blinds, green knobbly couches, photo frames galore, and my grandfather's bar (yep, near-alcoholism goes way back in my family). Nanna would put out little bowls of Dixie Drumsticks, beer nuts and YoYo biscuits, and Grandpa would pour me a lemonade  from one of those mini blue Schweppes cans. While the grown-ups talked and Whee...