Saturday night in Daylesford


On Saturday night, I was in Kazuki, the newest restaurant in delicious Daylesford, about 90 minutes north of Melbourne. Daylesford is, of course, hip to the eyeballs. Only a population of 7000 people, yet it has art galleries, cafes, restaurants and beautiful villas wriggling out of every pore.

Kazuki is a Japanese restaurant on up and coming Howe St, and while I was snacking on tiny plates of smoked eel ravioli and Japanese mushroom and celery soup, I looked across at the next table, to see a couple enjoying a romantic evening: the wine, the food, the view of the darkened street. The only odd note  was that they were both about 20. Was I so composed that at 20, I was taking dates out to swanky restaurants full of ingredients I couldn’t pronounce? I can quite safely admit that no, I was far too busy skulking around looking for low-budget entertainment in band pubs, existing on a diet of unflavoured boiled rice, to even contemplate such refinement.

“These kids of Daylesford,” I thought, “they’re in a class of their own.”

Mind you, several hours later into the evening, a band of the buggers ripped the two wing mirrors off my daggy old, hardworking car. They’re not so bloody different, after all.

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