You wouldn’t be alone if you thought Victor
Harbor was all velour tracksuits, white sneakers, occasional school leavers
meandering through the streets, and a whole lot of 5.30pm dinners. It is all
those things. But it’s also more. Past the quaint main street, over the railway
line, and conveniently perched across from the bowls club is The Anchorage.
This Adelaide Hills gal finds her way to
Victor Harbor a handful of times each year. And there are a couple of spots I
must hit and some things I must do: I need to stock up on greens and almonds at
the Victor Harbor Farmers’ Markets; I like to walk across to Granite Island
and high five the penguins; I need to have my fill at The Anchorage; and once
that’s all done, I pillage Target Country for flannelette pajamas with impish
creatures on them.
Smacked in the face with an icy puff of air
straight off the sea is the perfect way to wake from a snoozy 90-minute car ride.
Indeed, the iciness made me want a warming glass of red and a something
delicious to eat even more. And in the dull evening light, The Anchorage, with
it’s glossy-white trimmed windows, oozed ease and relaxation – all those things
synonymous with a quaint and quiet Victor Harbor.
Despite rustic big beams and giant chains
overhead, roughed up, pitted gravelly ground, and a smattering of wooden
tables, The Anchorage glows in soft light and has a air of elegance about it.
While a counter, glass cake display, coffee machine, and further down, a
boat-like bar, line one side of the back room, a barrel fire sits on the other.
Blackened, but with smudgy copper accents, you can’t see any flames, but if you
walk anywhere near it, you certainly realise it must be full of them. It’s
comfortably cozy.
To be a good food blogger you must not eat
the same meal twice… apparently. The quest for new things is indeed exciting,
I’ll admit that, but there’s also a heavenly comfort in the known. Don't tell the food blog kings, but I almost always
eat the same thing at the same place. And at The Anchorage that’s the gosh-darn
delectable squid. It’s almost like the inkers themselves floated in on that icy
sea breeze, and for the good of the locals, sacrificed themselves to the pan.
For me, there’s extra comfort in ordering the same dish again and again. It’s
the anticipation of a good thing, the countdown during the day to that
favourite meal, and the teaming of that with good wine and great company that
makes the experience a quality one.
A mix of chill out tracks, pop songs, and
jazz numbers whispers through the speakers. The shellacked boat bar glistens,
and sitting satisfied, we watch on as a kind waitress clears our table. A group
of 5 silver-haired ladies have folded their napkins, and squeakily wiggled
their chairs out from under the table. The table next to the barrel fire is now
empty, bar a few glasses, after a fresh-faced, swept-fringe guy, and his
long-locked girlfriend finished their meal and left.
Having bypassed the sweets, paid the bill,
and chatted with the staff, we rolled out of the beachside cocoon and back into
the company of the salty frost air. Leaving the glow of the eatery behind, we
powered to the car, ramped up the heaters, and pulled out from the curb. If
Victor Harbor is a sleepy town, then The Anchorage is a dream. It’s warm and
heaps satisfying. Not even free entry to the Whale Centre could knock it off my
list.
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