Juliet Sulejmani
Google
RECEIPT No. 2. Kirk’s Wine Bar, Melbourne
(A RETURN, observed)
There was a time I came here every week. Just me, a bar seat, a sketchbook, something simple and lovely on a plate.
I’d order a drink, watch the bar staff work with elegance and ease, and draw whatever felt true. I always left feeling more like myself.
Last night, I brought Sam.
It was a surprise, he didn’t know where we were going, just that we were going out. I booked us an Uber there and back. He said no one had ever done that for him before.
The night was my thank you to him. For every meal he made while I worked on my 75 illustrations. For all the quiet support, the warmth, the steadiness. I wanted to take him somewhere that meant something to me, and now, to us.
We arrived just after 5pm, early enough to beat the no-booking crowd. Even so, the place was already buzzing, a rainy, cold night, but still full. We got lucky with a window seat.
We started with two Negronis and asked the waitress what the most “Kirk’s” dish was. She named it without pause. (We ordered it, of course, and shared everything, as always.)
There was steak frites with café de Paris butter, thick house-made chips, a green leaf salad dressed with dijon and bright grapefruit. And for dessert: two affogatos, one with amaretto, one with frangelico, soft, sweet, and just the right ending.
The whole evening felt like a gentle collage of our travels and rituals, Milan and Paris, folded into one small window seat in Melbourne. Familiar food, thoughtful service, soft lighting, and the sound of a wine bar alive with conversation, just tucked off a laneway in the city.
A treat, a thank you, a soft celebration.
The total: $200.
Almost exactly what we’d spent at Marmelo the week before.
Coincidence, or just what good dinners cost when they mean something?
wine bar: a favourite returned to
chips: fat, golden, made in-house
affogato: shared, spiked, softly celebratory
total: $200, still worth every cent
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