In the heart of Melbourne, tucked between the rhythm of trams and the chatter of crowds, stood a small corner space that had once been a Vietnamese restaurant, then a BBQ shop, and for a short while, nothing at all. But one day, the smell of marinated meat and sizzling charcoal began to drift from its door again. The sign above read simply – GOGI CITY.

The name wasn’t just about the food. It was about a dream – the idea of bringing people together through the warmth of the grill, the laughter that rose with the smoke, and the stories shared across plates of bulgogi and kimchi.

Gogi City was never loud or sophisticated. The walls were simple, the tables close enough that strangers could exchange a smile. But every evening, the air filled with something special – the sound of sizzling meat, the clinking of soju glasses, and the murmur of people finding joy in a shared meal.