Mister Fox

What a glorious spring morning it was, the sky over Melbourne a blue bowl rinsed clean by the previous day's rain and dressed with wisps of cumulus: the perfect morning for a round of golf. Hang it, I thought, I'm not going in. Cruickshank can take care of the executive summary for that progress report on the developing situation.

Wait: there was nowhere not to go in to; there was no Cruikshank; and the executive summary was therefore someone else's problem. As for golf, I haven't played in decades, and even then it was only to bunk off from phys ed for a nice walk instead.

But the morning was perfect for something outdoorsy, so I pointed the car in an easterly direction and set Google maps for Ringwood, and a cafe that reportedly had a golf course view.

In fact Mister Fox looks over Ringwood Golf Club's 10th tee through full-length windows, though the tables at the windows were reserved – perhaps out of deference to the hackers flailing away on double-digit handicaps (or perhaps for them). But a seat on the astroturfed deck offers a prospect straight down the barrel of what looked an inviting hole, and it would be easy to spend the afternoon there watching silver-haired chaps who are self-managing their retirements quite nicely ping little white balls into the rough.

The food is best described as suburban golf club, a mix of snacks and more fortifying things for ladies and gents who are feeling peckish after spoiling a good walk or who are just enjoying bubbly-fuelled lunchtime catchups: breakfast standards of eggs, beans, (hash) browns and bacon, blackboard specials like poached chicken salad with mango and coconut or grilled ocean trout with an aioli-dressed warm potato and asparagus salad, and of course, a burger: maybe organic lamb, maybe Thai chicken.

The menu changes every couple of days, the serves are generous, and the food is tasty and well presented, if not particularly challenging (I imagine there are plenty of bunkers and water hazards for that).

So a breakfast of scrambled eggs, Mister Fox beans and potato hash is a big pile of egginess on two slices of sourdough alongside a nice mess of smoky ham-tinged beans, with a couple of crisp and hearty potato hash things, while a caramelised onion, potato, rosemary and feta quiche comes in a pastry case that looks like the bottom of a small hat box.

I've seen a lot of things speared through Thai chicken burgers – steak knives, cocktail umbrellas, extra-large toothpicks – but never, before, a golf tee: a Pride Pro-Length Max 400cc, which will give the golfers some idea of the girth of this burger. The patty was a juicy chunk of minced chicken with a nice peppery bite, dressed with a tangy slaw on a sweet brioche bun. Chips on the side are golden and nicely cooked and ripe for dipping in the accompanying chilli mayo – a club classic, I reckon.

Coffee from Genovese – an espresso blend plus the odd single origin – goes down nicely with a hazelnut and cranberry meringue, a nutty-mealy cupcake-shaped thing topped with a wodge of cream-cheese icing and a shard of cranberry toffee that defeated my sweet tooth.

The 19th hole is well-stocked, too, with beer including crafty locals (Three Ravens White from Thornbury, Hawthorn Premium Pale Ale) and hard-earned thirst-quenchers, plus a nice range of Yarra Valley and Mornington Peninsula wines. About par, I'd say.

THE LOW-DOWN
Do… grab a table tee-side on the deck.
Don't… forget your spikes. Looks like a nice course.
Dish… Thai chicken burger.
Vibe… Friendly, clubby local.