Opinion: Melbourne’s First Week Back in Restaurants – the Good, the Bad and What We Need to Do Better

When I arrived at Paradise Alley in Collingwood at 12.02am last Wednesday, three minutes after hospo was allowed to reopen, I had to make my way to the back of a socially distanced queue. It moved at a snail’s pace, but no one cared – we were all too ecstatic to be there.

Once we’d scanned the QR code, owner Laura Twomey told us she was pouring either cheap beer or $20 glasses of champagne. Let’s just say my mood was celebratory. And while the licence only allowed time for a few drinks, that didn’t stop me detouring along Smith Street in the hopes of finding an open kebab shop.

The last time I felt this much excitement and anxiety simultaneously was 13 years ago, during that odd period between finishing high school and starting final exams. I was nervous as hell about the future and I couldn’t shoo the butterflies from my chest. But I was also happy.

It’s the same a week into Melbourne’s restaurants reopening.

When a ceramic coffee cup was placed in front of me at Calere in Fitzroy, I almost got teary – and there were no onions to blame. Over the next hour, chef Mo Zhou waxed lyrical about spring’s bounty, admitting he’d worked on 85 dishes over 100 days of lockdown for the adjoining Gaea; a ute-full of beer kegs were delivered nearby; and a woman headed into the Megan Park boutique to open up for the day.

On my stroll home, tables of chatty, cheery breakfast-goers lined the length of Gertrude Street. We’re back, I thought.

But as you may have also noticed, dining out after lockdown is weird. There’s a first-date vibe in Melbourne. I feel like a teenager going in for a kiss and missing – it’s awkward and my heart is racing. We’re rusty at socialising, and staff have either been off the job for 100-plus days or stepping in as delivery drivers.

At Embla on Friday night, our waitress reassured us it was totally fine to ask her to repeat herself for the third time, her voice muffled by her mask. But when we realised she was asking if we wanted some cheese or dessert to finish, I didn’t hesitate: “Both”.

As Melbourne gets its groove back, every moment brings catharsis for me: sitting down at Sunday brunch with my family for the first time in months; the staff skimming dried chilli off the top of sizzling fish at Dainty Sichuan; the look of pure relief on Jesse Singh’s face at the opening of his four-storey pub Mr Brownie (try the butter-chicken pie).

Whenever I see a work-in-progress “parklet”, my heart does a little backflip. So far so good with Melbourne’s weather – I’m optimistic this summer of outdoor dining will be the best we’ve ever had. Even the old Italian blokes on Lygon Street are back at their posts, gossiping over espresso and cigarettes.

But for every moment of joy, I’m left winded by quiet closures, for-lease signs and still-shuttered arcades. Right now, there are plenty of places in Chinatown and along Victoria Street that need our love. I followed my own advice last week and sat in the octagonal room at Little Bourke Street institution Bamboo House. What a gift it was to watch people coming in and out of the adjacent Shark Fin Inn, my mouth full of lobster omelette.

It’s also been a week of new norms. Checking in via QR codes. Ordering with smartphones. Waiting in line while customers are escorted to 1.5-metre-spaced tables. And wearing a mask at all times unless you’re seated and eating or drinking (seriously, guys, it’s not that hard).

My first dinner out was a pub meal at Hotel Lincoln (missed you, tap beer), during which I learned it’s a no-no to put your mask on the table (and I’d guess many other punters still aren’t aware of this). I made an effort to read the Victorian government’s Industry Restart Guidelines, and everyone dining (or working) at restaurants should, too.

To be honest, I’ve been flabbergasted at those blatantly ignoring the rules designed to keep us safe. The worst offenders I’ve seen unashamedly seat more than 20 people indoors (the current restrictions allow a maximum of 20 people), or are dismissive of patrons who ask to check in.

I don’t want to get into the politics of it all, but friends, family and even strangers outside of Melbourne have been messaging me all week saying how they wished their governments had followed in our footsteps.

While we celebrate “double doughnuts” – days with zero new coronavirus cases and zero deaths – on the regular now, all it takes is one slip-up for Covid to spread like wildfire. (Just look at certain countries in Europe, where lax restrictions regarding hospitality, dining and travel in the summer – plus poor contact-tracing – have led to a second wave.) I don’t know about you, but I’m keen to finally press play on plans to travel to regional Victoria with an Empty Esky. And I would like to see my entire family in one room on Christmas Day.

I voiced these same concerns to my mate over champagne at Paradise Alley. I felt guilty for being a bit of a buzzkill, but the last thing a venue can afford right now is a whopping fine because they want to seat a few extra people, or because customers unwind after a few drinks and feel the urge to dance. Not following the rules isn’t just dangerous, it’s unfair to everyone doing the right thing.

As we head back out to restaurants, every mouthful from a plate instead of a takeaway container tastes like reward. We’ve earned this, together. Now let’s do the right thing for the sake of Melbourne hospitality – and each other.

Sofia Levin is a freelance journalist based in Melbourne and the founder of Seasoned Traveller.

This article was updated on November 3. An earlier version stated you could only remove your mask when putting food or drink in your mouth, when in fact it can be off whenever you’re seated eating or drinking.