When you live abroad, there’s always one dish that makes you think of home. For me, nothing quite tastes of Australia like a parma: a golden chicken schnitzel topped with Napoli tomato sauce, smoked ham and bubbly mozzarella, served with thick-cut chips and a green salad. It’s the ultimate comfort food, and one of the first things I seek when I go back to Melbourne.

Growing up, when Mum didn’t feel like cooking, she’d pile us into the car and take us down the road to The Harp of Erin Hotel, a typical suburban pub with sticky carpets, footy on the TV and impossibly large parmas. I’d place my half-serve on top of the chips, so they’d get a little soggy (in a good way) and top it all off with a big squirt of tomato sauce.

Walk into any Australian pub and you’re guaranteed to find a parma on the menu. It’s a social connector – groups of friends regularly gather for mid-week “parma and pot” nights, where it’s paired with a small glass of beer. It’s also a source of debate: Melburnians call it a “parma”, Sydneysiders argue it’s a “parmi”. Then there’s the question of where the chips should go: underneath or to the side?

Not all parmas are created equal. If they’re left under the heat lamp for too long, the cheese goes rubbery, the crumb gets soggy and the topping risks sliding off. The perfect parma has moist chicken, a crispy crumb and melty mozz that holds it all together. And it’s always sitting on top of the chips.

When I moved to Hong Kong seven years ago, I set out in search of parmas. I first tried the Italian-American version at the now-closed Posto Pubblico, made sans ham and paired with red sauce spaghetti. I got a little closer at the Australian rotisserie Chicken on the Run, then again with Feather and Bone’s more premium take. However, while all delicious, they couldn’t give me the familiar comfort of an Australian pub parma.

My family and I always head to The Harp when I’m back in Melbourne. Not much has changed – the carpet is still sticky, the footy is still on and the parmas are still impossibly large. The only difference is that I’ve now upgraded to the full-serve.

One bite and I know I’m home.