I’ve been thinking about the Australian Open. Not the tennis (although yes, the drama, the sunburn, the heatwaves, the fans), but, mostly, the food. I realise I’m probably thinking about this more than the average tennis attendee.

If you’ve been down to Melbourne Park in recent years, you might have noticed it no longer feels like a stadium that just happens to sell food. Today it feels more like a temporary city — one that’s decided food deserves the same attention and pride as the sport itself.

Once upon a time, eating at the tennis meant hot chips, a pie, and maybe a Fanta if you were feeling extra fancy. Now you’ll find thoughtful, limited-edition menus, from recognisable chefs — think Turkish dumplings with yoghurt and burnt butter from Shane Delia to golden prawn toast with salted duck egg from Junda Khoo, and native-flavoured popcorn by Mindy Woods. There is food and drink that actually reflects our city.

Where once a bain-marie hot dog in hand was the norm at sporting events, at the Australian Open you’re now just as likely to be eating a lemongrass chicken vermicelli bowl. That shift reflects how Melbourne has evolved over the past 15 years. The Australian Open has become a food festival in its own right, now carrying as much energy as the courtside experience itself. In this way, the food is a concentrated dose of Melbourne — a snapshot of who we are, told through flavour. Food worth queuing for, and chefs worthy of a global stage.

The Australian Open is one of the most watched sporting events in the world. Millions of people see Melbourne through tennis… And quietly, between sets, wandering the grounds, scrolling social channels, attendees from across the world are also seeing how this city eats. What we care about. What we’re proud to serve.

What I love most is that it doesn’t feel showy or try-hard. It just feels very Melbourne. Multicultural. Thoughtful. Unpretentious. You can eat across several cultures in a single afternoon. You can grab something on the go as you wander between courts, or sit down for something lovely and luxurious. You can feed kids, friends, grandparents, colleagues. Take your pick.

Some of my strongest food memories aren’t from restaurants at all. They’re from being a kid at the footy or the Australian Open. The smell of tomato sauce. Hot chips. Sunscreen. Summer. All mixed together.

Those smells stay with you. They become a trigger for excitement, belonging, and being part of something bigger.

So when I see how food is treated at big public events now, I think about my own kid, and the next generations, too. The memories they’re forming without realising it. The standard being set. What will feel normal to them and what they’ll expect from their city.

And behind all of this are cooks, bakers, baristas, producers, servers, runners. People starting early, finishing late, keeping the crowds fed while the rest of us watch the game.

Melbourne knows exactly who it is. A multicultural city where culture is best expressed through food, and food sometimes becomes the main event. World-class events usually come with the usual trimmings. Champions. Merch. Sponsorships. Cashola. But in Melbourne, that’s not enough — it also has to be delicious.

I tip my hat to you, Aus Open organisers.

See you courtside, or at least near something good to eat,

Gemma