Excuse me sir, where's my pig skin?

Here’s a question: if you’re served the wrong coffee, do you ask for the right one?*

I do. And it’s the same in restaurants — if a dish isn’t quite right, I speak up (though not without squirming). I am so affected by what I eat that the cost of remaining silent far outweighs the discomfort of rejecting a dish. Drinking the wrong coffee or eating a meal that misses the mark can not only throw off my entire day, it feels like I’m not being true to myself. I know it sounds dramatic, but “settling” when it comes to food just doesn’t sit right with me. Perhaps because when it’s done right, it brings me so much joy.

Last week, I ducked into a new Vietnamese cafe while shopping in Melbourne’s east. I ordered pork chop cơm tấm, broken rice with the usual accompaniments and nước chấm dipping sauce. The menu promised the customary shredded pork skin and a hunk of “rich steamed egg cake”. But when my plate arrived, the pork skin was absent and the egg cake looked suspiciously like a fried egg.

If you know me, you know I have a strong sense of justice. Yet it’s easier for me to speak up in a cafe or restaurant than in most other areas of my life — probably because food is my domain. I’ve eaten enough to know what’s right, wrong, good and bad. That said, food writers — and MasterChef judges — often cop criticism for passing judgment without having worked in kitchens themselves.

But here's the thing: we don’t expect film critics to be directors, or book critics to be novelists. What critics bring is a broad view of the field in which they operate. Culinary training and staging aside, chefs typically focus on perfecting their style, often within a specific venue. When they do dine out, it’s usually at friends’ places or buzzy new openings — often within the same culinary bubble. Can chefs review restaurants? Sure. But they’re neither experienced in examining their own biases, nor trained in writing. I don’t envy the editor who has to track changes on a chef-written review.

Criticism is always somewhat subjective, but what defines a professional critic is the awareness of that subjectivity, paired with the intention to be as objective as possible. I might not be a dessert person, but I still know when a dessert is good. Whenever imposter syndrome creeps in I remind myself to back my palate. All of this ran through my mind before I finally made my way downstairs at the Vietnamese cafe and — apologetically — asked the owner if the dish usually came with pork skin and steamed egg cake (knowing full well that it did).

He was equally apologetic, and explained they had run out of egg cake. He then returned with a generous side dish of pork skin, sliced to the consistency of thin vermicelli and tossed with fried garlic and roasted rice powder. That deeply savoury, springy, and slightly nutty side not only made the dish, it sparked a conversation about how the cafe began, revealed that the recipes were from the owner’s wife, and ended with a restaurant recommendation.

So, this week, a reminder to ask (politely) for what you want, as well as a few things I think you’ll want to know: a clever hack for finding lesser-known restaurants in your area, a look at whether drinking matcha is harmful, a wholesome Korean spot flying under the radar, and why everyone’s talking about Zareh in Collingwood.

*According to the results of yesterday’s Instagram poll (3,300+ voters), 36% of people said they would accept the wrong coffee. Given my audience is skewed towards people who love to eat and drink, I would bet this is a conservative number.