★★★★★ Austro Bakery focaccia
We’ve eaten the focaccia at Hope St. We’ve eaten the focaccia at Cam’s. And this past weekend, we ate the focaccia at Austro Bakery, a Southside staple that has just moved to a small space behind a garage door in North Melbourne. We’re no gourmands, so take our word with a flake of Maldon sea salt, but this focaccia was the greatest thus far. Made with “wild yeast” (whatever that is) and topped with pine mushrooms, a few green leaves, and a mound of stracciatella, as we chewed our way through the bread we grew sombre with respect and gratitude, as if in the presence of a great work of art. It’s Truth. It’s Beauty. It’s Eat, Pray, Love for people in black puffers with real estate portfolios (it was $13.50). Also, they make coffee scrolls, the most delicious coffee scrolls we’ve ever eaten, alongside other delicacies. In the cabinet was a tall, handsome cake veneered in pomegranate-coloured icing, spongy little spheres cracked open to reveal a core of cream, and glossy bowl-like pastries cradling scoops of sour cherries. We’re going to eat one of everything, then start the process again.
★★★★ Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show
“I’m trying to self-Truman Show myself,” says Jerrod Carmichael in the first episode of his recently released HBO series. The New York-based comedian delivers on this voyeuristic promise by allowing a camera crew full access to his life. We get to observe as Jerrod gets his heart broken by his best friend (who happens to be Tyler the Creator), cheats on his boyfriend and then lies about it to his face, and shows up late to an old friend's wedding after insisting on taking a time-consuming detour to purchase a hotdog. Although shockingly, sometimes uncomfortably candid, the show is also obviously contrived. Every episode revolves around a central motif: Jerrod trying to reconcile his current life as a rich, openly gay black man in his mid-30s with his life before success and coming out. In one episode, Jerrod asks his dad to accompany him on a roots trip to South Carolina. The voyage begins awkwardly, with Jerrod insisting on showing his reticent, borderline homophobic father a semi-nude photo of his white boyfriend. Then, on the last night, Jerrod confronts his dad about his long-term mistress and secret second family. His dad looks forlorn and begins to cry. “I got feelings too," he says. "The way that you don’t want to be hurt, I don’t want to be hurt. This is not to be discussed on camera.” Jerrod retorts, “If the cameras help me, then they fuckin’ help me…Your way is silence. Your way is death.” Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show is more Knausgaard than Real Housewives, and like all good auto-fiction, it offers a gripping, morally ambivalent exploration of the human condition.
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