I knew I was in for a treat* when 50% of the clientele at Urban Café were bike short wearing professionals ordering a double mocha skinny latte on their way to their desk jobs, and the other half were retirees with their handbags tucked safely into one armpit (they were in the city after all, and in the city people like me roll old bats for their pension money and sensible shoes). Turns out this 50% were also generally unaccommodating of the idea of a share table, which made it hard seeing as this makes up half of the seating at the café.
My optimism of decent food diminished even further when I realised I had to order at the counter, pay in advance and take a plastic table number to one of the many tiny tables or the handful of massive share tables that were on offer. No good food has ever come from a place with a plastic table number.
I dully ordered the boring-looking French toast that was written on the black board (the entire menu is written on the blackboard – fail), took my seat at the back of the cafe and stared at a giant nipple that hung on the wall until my food arrived.
I bet you’re thinking the toast was rubbish, right?
Although it would be a far funnier review if the food matched the decor and the facial expression on the floral-clad lady at the end of my table who yelled at me because I took her friend’s seat (who never arrived, mind you), this French toast was a fantastic treat which kind of tasted more like sweet pancakes than egged up, pan fried bread. Seeing as the Judgement team have struggled for weeks to review pancakes around town (because apparently it’s not cool to eat them anymore), I reckon we can consider this dish a half/half call on French toast and pancakes.
Sure, the strawberries were just slapped on the top and there wasn’t nearly enough of them, but I enjoyed it so much I was disappointed to be dining alone when my ‘mmmm!’s and ‘ahhmmm!’s were wasted on a guy in earshot (who I’m pretty sure thought he was going to score with me later in the day).
Now, I’ve never claimed to be the smartest person around. Heck, I’m lucky to remember how to button up my pants in the morning, but I found it perplexing how the whole Urban Deli thing was set out. Half of the place looks like a drab, sub par sandwich shop with a couple of cheap tables and chairs thrown around the place. The other half – the half I sat in – is made up of long, dark wooden share tables, blackboards showcasing the three million egg dishes on offer, big windows that peep out onto Swanston Street and this beautiful big clock that reminds you that you’re late for work. Honestly, it was like two cafes in one. One had taste, the other…well, not so much.
Apart from the big clock on the back wall there is nothing inspiring about this cafe at all, which is a shame. Urban Deli has as much personality as Gwenyth Paltrow, but if you’re not phased and just want a solid French toast then swing by, and maybe grab one of the 5,000 fresh juice options on offer.
Juicy juice for everyone!
This cafe would probably cry if it won an Oscar
*pile of poo.
Hi Robyn,
I’ll definitely have to check out Urban Deli – even though pancakes are out of fashion, I love them – and am constantly searching for great ones – particularly in the CBD. Maybe we can forgive the decor and ambience if the food is good :). Really love reading your reviews!!
Cheers,
Helen
aka Dining Nirvana
Hi Helen,
I agree – and what’s not to love about pancakes?! I was really impressed at how great the French toast at Urban Deli was. Would definitely go back there again. I’m planning a visit to Roule Galette sometime soon to see how awesome they really are. Will keep you posted!
Robyn
As a regular at Urban Deli I found your review sad, nasty and patronising. I suppose you were trying to be funny but it’s really not funny being rude about people you don’t know. Perhaps work on your writing skills before bagging off others.