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Minna Leunig is an artist living and working on Larrakia Country in Darwin. Her paintings and murals celebrate the untamed, the interconnected, and the gloriously alive—bold silhouettes and instinctive lines carving out a world where animals and humans are equally wild: tangled in a writhing symphony of mischief, sensuality, humour, and resistance.
Where do you live most of the year?
Darwin, in the Northern Territory. I left Melbourne about a year ago, knowing I needed something wilder—and Darwin delivered. It’s hot, feral and a bit unhinged. I’m not leaving anytime soon.
What do you look for in a restaurant when you walk in?
I’m drawn to places that feel warm and sensory—not too polished or sleek, but with character. I like a bit of earthiness, a little rough-around-the-edges charm. If a place has quirky, unexpected artwork that feels personal—not trend chasing or trying to impress—I respect that. It shows they’ve got a bit of devil-may-care spirit and aren't afraid to make bold choices. I’m also not here for places that treat you like royalty. I’d rather somewhere that knows what it’s doing, and doesn’t feel the need to pander.
What is your final meal?
Okay, death row meal: If I’m going out, I’m going out barefoot in the Victorian Strathbogie Ranges, on the bush property I grew up on. Think peppermint gums, granite boulders, the smell of dry earth or wet leaves depending on the season. If it’s winter, I’m inside by the open fire with something strange like the Penguin Cafe Orchestra playing low in the background. If it’s summer, I’m on the veranda, warm skin, cicadas chirping, kookaburras and cockatoos making a racket in the distance. I’d light a candle—a moment to give thanks, and to mark that it’s the end.
To start: a few dolmades and some pickled olives from the trees my family planted years ago. Then a big bowl of penne in a rich, garlicky tomato sauce, loaded with charred eggplant, zucchini, capsicum, mushrooms, black olives and chilli. Drenched in olive oil, finished with fresh basil and grated parmesan. On the side: a bitter green salad—rocket, radicchio, red onion, avocado, and a vinaigrette with bite. For dessert: an extra lemony lemon tart with a dollop of soft cream. Nothing fancy. Just everything I love, in the place that made me.
3 guests for dinner, dead or alive?
Best believe I’m not wasting a dream dinner on impressive strangers. I’d invite a few close friends—the kind of people who are cheeky, warm, a bit rogue, and don’t need icebreakers. I want unapologetic personalities, a bottle of wine on the go, loose conversation, and laughter that gets out of hand. No small talk, no need to be polite—just good chaos. That’s heaven to me.
Minna’s Taste Maker Guide
Breakfast: Rapid Creek Markets in Darwin—a small, unpolished market with a proper community feel. Mostly fresh produce and food stalls. It’s where locals actually shop, not so much a tourist stop. If you get in and out without bumping into ten people you know, you start to wonder what the fuck’s going on.
Order: Pad see ew from my favourite Thai stall—I’ve never clocked the name. Just look for the woman in full glam behind a blazing wok: usually in a fishnet top with a plastic red rose behind her ear, though lately she’s been serving 2010s business casual with the same intensity. Starting the day with spicy noodles might seem rogue, but in Darwin, it’s a sacred ritual. It’s the best pad see ew I’ve had—loaded with chilli, crushed peanuts, and shallots.
For drinks: an almond cap or fresh tropical juice, depending on the mood.
Coffee: I’m not particularly loyal to any one spot—I’ll grab a coffee wherever feels good in the moment. Some of my favourite coffees have been in the most unlikely places—like a semi-shit milk bar in Esperance, or The Bakery in Alice Springs. That one’s actually very good. I’ve got strong memories of sitting in both of those spots with a coffee and a pie, soaking up the sun. For me, it’s more about the feel of a place. I’m not a coffee snob—it doesn’t have to be the best roast in town. I actually often prefer somewhere a bit daggy over a place that feels too cool. That said, I’m pretty happy anywhere—from the hyper-curated to the charmingly tragic. Sometimes tragic wins.
Order: Large almond cap.
Lunch: Half Moon Cafe in Coburg, Melbourne. A local favourite for good reason.
Order: Full Moon Falafel Wrap. When I was working out of Schoolhouse Studios, this was my go-to on the days I didn’t pack lunch. Halloumi, chickpeas, eggplant, rocket, lettuce, pickles, tabouli, hummus, tzatziki—and falafels that hit. So fucking good.
Special dinner: Mario’s in Fitzroy—a Melbourne institution. No-fuss vibe, straightforward service, and the kind of place that feels good whether you’ve dressed up or just wandered in. It knows what it’s doing and doesn’t make a big deal about it. Coincidentally, it’s also where I had my first exhibition in my early twenties.
Penne Amatriciana—pancetta, tomato sugo, garlic, onion, chilli. Spicy, salty—very good. I’ll add a rocket and parmesan salad, and because it’s a special dinner, a Negroni (or two). I don’t usually go for dessert, but if you held a gun to my head, I’d break for the sticky date pudding.
Casual dinner: I Love Pho in Richmond, Melbourne. No frills, always busy, consistently good Vietnamese food. The menu’s simple—mostly pho, obviously—and that’s all it needs to be.
Order: Always start with the veg spring rolls—juicy, crispy, wrapped in lettuce with herbs and dipped in nuoc cham. Then either the chicken or veg pho—depending on how I’m feeling. You never walk out disappointed.
Special shoutouts
Ski Club, Darwin: The bar I end up at most in Darwin. Open air, palm trees, and the most incredible sunsets. Sometimes I bring a sketchbook and draw, sometimes it’s my meeting spot, other times I’m there for music or to see a friend. They serve simple pub food, but mostly it’s just a beautiful place to sit and watch the sky lose its mind.
Order: A pint of Stone & Wood.
Wabi Sabi, Collingwood, Melbourne: It’s calm, earthy, and beautifully put together—every detail feels intentional without being over-designed. Like someone actually lives in the space, rather than just styling it.
Order: The Wabi Sabi Signature Teishoku. It comes with rice, miso soup, homemade Osozai veggies, and a main. I usually go for the Teriyaki Barramundi or the vegan option—Agedashi Tofu with eggplant, zucchini, and Shiitake mushrooms. Never lets me down.
Sari Rasa, Darwin: This spot is tucked up the back of the NT Oriental Emporium—an Asian grocery warehouse. It’s bain-marie food served in takeaway containers, and it always sells out early. You line up, point at what you want, and walk away feeling like a cat who got the cream.
Order: Whatever looks good on the day.
Wesley Anne, Northcote, Melbourne: An old church turned pub—dim lighting, stone walls, timber beams, and worn-in texture.
Order: Monday night roo steak and red wine for $20. Best kangaroo steak I’ve had. It’s my go-to when I’m back in Melbourne and need a proper hit of iron. Generous serving, always polished off.
Mesob Ethiopian, Northcote, Melbourne: The space is warm and earthy, full of woven textures, beautiful lighting and artwork. Think traditional Ethiopian with a modern feel.
Order: I'd order a combination platter for two – chefs selections of dishes. Everything is served with injera, a spongy, tangy flatbread that you use to scoop up the curries—it's hands on and delicious.