I was lucky enough to be having breakfast during work hours for this outing to Dr Dax Kitchen, a cafe that proudly protrudes like the frontal lobe of a higher primate from the entrance of the Melbourne Brain Centre on Royal Parade. I have (not that) often traipsed over to Dr Dax for coffee on days where I felt that I should treat myself to something nicer than a 7-Eleven $1 special or Zouki’s, but had not really ventured into their solid consumables for lack of time and opportunity. Here was my chance.
Dr Dax is, fondly, nerd central. At all hours of the day people in suits and glasses can be found doing whatever it is they do when they are not at work; which is often working on a laptop, discussing work or waiting for coffee to take back to work. It is a busy place, but I do enjoy the atmosphere. The large westward-facing windows peer over the bustle of Royal Parade to the Royal Melbourne Hospital and further add to the urgent buzz of a place in constant flux. I am yet to visit Dr Dax in weather that would allow me to take advantage of sitting at the tables outside, but I imagine that might be quite nice so long as there are not too many lit cigarettes about.
At Dr Dax you order at the counter and so I cheerfully asked for:
“Your Bircher muesli, thanks!”
“Will that be with fruit?”
Oh boy. The first symptom of a muesli disorder had presented itself. I became slightly apprehensive as to what would arrive and my fears were somewhat realised when I was met with:
Now I’m not a psychiatrist but I suspect this muesli has an identity disorder. Here we have a case of fruit salad-on-muesli, the first of which I have come across. To its credit, the fruit salad was fresh and I will never hate on watermelon except to say that it and the rest of the fruit were grossly out of place in this meal. Sorry, watermelon. Basically, there was no attempt at fruit-muesli integration and I doubt even an intense course of cognitive behavioural therapy could make this dish coherent (I’m enjoying barely working in these psychological allusions far too much).
I took a deep breath and moved past the fruit to the muesli, which might have been in the company of two types of yoghurt but I’m not discerning enough to confidently identify them. In fact now I think of it there just might have been an extra dollop of standard yoghurt on top of that which housed the oats. Anyway, another surprise occurred, this time mainly picked up by cranial nerves IX and X as my tongue and palate came to grips with the sheer density of oats that I had just delivered them. Yes, Dr Dax is guilty of handing out oats as if they were anti-depressants. My mood, however, did not improve – especially when I realised that this so-called Bircher muesli did not contain detectable grated apple or nuts! Unfortunately, my enjoyment of this breakfast was based mainly on the quality of the company I was with. And so I had a lovely meal despite the muesli being sub-par. At least it was cold.
Diagnosis: Schizoid-fruit-and-oats disorder with the main issue of it having a delusion of being Bircher muesli. My management of this poor entity would include the regrettable decision to reserve my money to be spent on cases with more hope. The coffee is good, though!
(Not So) Good Muesli, Melbourne!