Jarrod would you tram it? The Colonial Tramcar Restaurant!

The last couple of weeks I’ve had a few ‘swing and a miss’-es and only a single positive review from you, Jarrod, so I’m hoping to come back hard this week with my report on dinner aboard the Tramcar Restaurant.

Destination: UTTER GLUTTONY. All aboard!

If you live in Melbourne, odds are high that at some point you have done the budget version of the Tramcar Restaurant, also known as ‘catching the last tram out of the city, after drinks, delicately balancing your McDonalds on your lap.’ That experience has its own special ambience. Fluroscent lighting, screechy drunks, and the pervasive aroma of 19 year old boys who smell of too much beer and far too much Lynx Africa…. If you’re really lucky, like I was a few months ago, you may have a man with neck piercings, facial tattoos and dentition reminiscent of the ‘after’ pictures in an montage about What Crystal Meth Does To Your Appearance tell you that he “doesn’t want to freak you out, but you have really lovely feet. Seriously. Really pretty…” and go on to quiz you about the shade of your toenail polish.

I was optimistic as our booking drew closer. The Tramcar Restaurant has some pretty positive reviews on the likes of Urbanspoon (83% likes) and Tripadvisor (average 4.5 out of 5!!). Having said that, I take Tripadvisor reviews with a big fat grain of salt because in my experience, it’s a site of extremes. Their reviews are either ridiculously, wildly positive (“the best maximum security prison I’ve experienced. It’s the little things, like, even when I was shanked, the shiv was sharpened so exquisitely that I barely felt it slide between my ribs. Five green dots!”), or seething paragraphs of bitter nitpicking: the subtext of which is invariably “I paid good money expecting to feel differently but this destination failed to transform me from twisted, nasty asshole into someone happy! 1/2 a green dot.”

I took along an accomplice this week, my friend, the brilliant comedian Em O’Loughlin. We booked the late dinner sitting which goes from 8:30 to 11.30 and includes *burp* five courses, and my favourite two words of all time: UNLIMITED ALCOHOL. (FYI this includes beer, wine, sparkling wine and basic spirits). It’s not a cheap night out by any means, at $120 per person–that’s a LOT of happy meals on your normal tram, so naturally we both starved ourselves most of the day to be sure we were going to get our $$ worth.

One of the Tramcar fleet

We boarded right on time and given it was a bitter, rainy Melbourne winter night, it was lovely to slip into the plush comfort of our little booth for two. The interior’s very sumptuous old world with an abundance of velvet, red wood, fringing, and more tassels than you could poke a burlesque nipple at.

A Velveteen Haven from the cold and rain

Everyone on board seemed to be in great spirits and basically straight after we started moving there was the sound of a champagne cork popping near the kitchen. Followed immediately by the sound of Em and myself letting out a Pavlovian cheer. (It’s my firm belief that if a champagne cork popping doesn’t make you go “yay!” you should probably check that you still have a pulse)

First course is dips and crackers and we had a hommus and a spicy red capscicum dip that were so lovely and creamy I genuinely debated doing a round of the other tables to scoop other people’s leftovers directly into my handbag.

Entree was a choice between a salmon and avocado mousse, or a prosciutto wrapped duck terrine. I’m not a huge fan of terrines and meatloaves because I’ve had one too many that had the appearance and texture of a slice of dog food on a plate… but we both rolled the proverbial dinner dice and went for the terrine, because we frigging love duck and we were not disappointed. Delicious.

Sorry Ping, this time you weren’t fast enough.

The tram goes through the city, down St Kilda Road and through Albert Park and St Kilda. In case you’re wondering, the ride is really smooth and not at all jolty. I was worried that I’d spend the whole three hours manically steadying wine glasses on the brink of tipping but aside from some stretches of track being a little rumbly, the wine in our glasses hardly rippled.

Onto the mains, we both went for the beef fillet with potato and seasonal veg. Lovely, but perhaps a bit like mid range reception centre food, if you get my drift? But honestly, what do you expect? It’s a tiny kitchen serving up dinners for 36 people ON A TRAM. You’re not going to get fine dining and elaborate Master Chef style ‘plating up.’ Our red wine was being refilled at a rate that was probably juuuuuust one the right side of your RSA regulations so we were happy. Really, really, really happy.

Cheese course was next, and at this point the tram stopped for a photo break in Albert Park where the tram is under lights amongst all the palm trees. I’m sure it was a lovely backdrop and a great photo opportunity, but did I mention that it was RAINING and WINTERY and we were in a cosy, velvet, womb of a booth with a delightful waitress plying us with red wine. WHY WOULD WE MOVE FROM THAT WINNING POSITION? That would be the very definition of insanity!

Dessert (vanilla pannacotta and a sticky date pudding with caramel sauce) followed, with Frangelico and coffee. Not surprisingly, we were stuffed. Opaque tights cutting into your wee little brand new food baby stuffed. All in all, the three hours flew by and we had an absolute ball. It felt like being inside a delightful little brassiere where everyone was in a fabulous mood. It was all animated chatter, laughter and generally great energy.

Also I got to go to a toilet on a tram.

So that was new.

Anyway, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. As I said, the food wasn’t life changingly brilliant but we really had a blast… So I’m throwing it over to you now, younger brother, the Tramcar Restaurant in Melbourne: Jarrod, would you go there?

Smiling like that the very second I heard the cork pop…