An ode to the pre-show meal.

As someone who probably spends more time standing around in theatre and concert hall foyers than in my kitchen preparing a nutritious, well-cooked meal, I have been ruminating on the odd, beautiful, and often dull pre-show meals I often have to eat.

These adventures in culinary establishments, their locations, and opening hours have led me through a variety of experiences—from supermarket desperation, grabbing smoked salmon, day-old potato salad, and a scungy bread roll, to overpriced theatre-bar snacks accompanied by equally overpriced bad wine. More often than not, though, I find myself returning to what has become my mainstay: cheap Asian cuisine.

In Melbourne-Naarm, we are fortunate to enjoy a wonderful culture of good, affordable Asian food right in the heart of our city. So, when 5.30pm strikes, you rush from the office or a rehearsal, hoping and praying that the bumpy bus through Fitzroy or the plodding old train or tram through the inner city will deliver you into town in time to order your favourite xiao long bao. Perhaps you’ll even splurge on a $22 plate of greens, and if you’re feeling particularly daring (as one often is when dining alone in these situations), a beer to wash it all down.

Then, of course, comes the dash: you throw some money at the cashier, rush out the door, and face the eternal question—should you wait six minutes for a tram to take you three stops down Swanston Street, or should you just power walk? Power walking it is, gasping as you digest, navigating the inevitable city-centre construction, crossing the river, and weaving your way through the badly designed, winding streets of Southbank.

As you make your way down these wind tunnels towards the theatres and concert halls, it always strikes me how lacking the area is in quality dining options with reasonable opening hours. It’s this deficiency that has sparked so many of my silly little pre-show culinary adventures.

Eventually, you arrive at the foyer, just in time to meet a friend, bump into an old colleague, or exchange a knowing glance with a collaborator you hope has finally read your email. Ticket loaded, seat claimed, and headspace discombobulated, you’re ready to immerse yourself—be it in 4.5 hours of Wagner or Shakespeare, an intimate recital featuring a visiting soloist, or an unforgettable experimental performance.

All of this, of course, is bookended by bad theatre wine and the meal now sitting comfortably (if a little heavily) in your guts.

It’s probably obvious by now that I think Southbank leaves much to be desired. Many of these ‘arts districtrs’ across the world share the same issue, and I feel there is a great opportunity out there for someone to make a lot of money improving this siutation.
While the recent improvements to dining options in the area are welcome, there’s still a long way to go. Yet, these experiences—often solo, sometimes shared with a fellow arts explorer—are silly, funny, lonely, gassy, and innocuous. And sometimes, they’re exactly what you need before the delightful onslaught of art.