Kanh Nguyen’s departure from Sunda last July left many, myself included, wondering what would become of the once-lauded contemporary Southeast Asian-Australian restaurant. But former sous Nabil Ansari’s appointment as the new head chef (after a brief stint at Firebird) has ensured the venue remains in good hands. Sunda is not the same restaurant that opened on Punch Lane in 2018, but its next wave is a promising one.
With formal service and a slight industrial edge, the venue embodies a high-low approach to upscale dining that emerged in the late 2010s and has permeated the industry ever since. Think doors held open and menus placed on laps by staff whose welcoming air and sense of character feel more important than their uniform.
The food is similarly refined yet relaxed. Attention to detail is evident, though no dish feels too stuffy or serious. The pie tee has initial notes of creamed corn that give way to the sharp zing of salted black bean hiding beneath the surface, all encased in a delicate pastry shell. The tuna tartare donut, which tastes of deep-fried potato, is well-balanced with a generous dressing of sturgeon caviar, but perhaps could be elevated to even greater heights with a hint of acid or cream. In any case, it’s a delight.
On that note, it's the smaller dishes that look more appealing on paper, and so we round out the meal with those. Crispy tempeh is an outstanding choice at only $12 with a sweet, smoky glaze and the bright crunch of lightly pickled cucumbe
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Hamed Allahyari was a chef and restaurateur in Tehran, Iran until 2012 when religious conflict forced him to flee to Australia. His love for hospitality never left him. Upon arriving in Australia, he began working with Asylum Seeker Resource Centre Catering and Free to Feed, two social enterprises designed to support new migrants through food and dining. Then, seven years later, he opened Café Sunshine & Salamatea, a social enterprise restaurant designed to employ, train and mentor asylum seekers and refugees facing similar paths to him.
It’s been a beloved local gathering place ever since – not just for its friendly, community focus but for its approachable Persian fare, which is hard to come by in Melbourne. Iranian food is not well represented here and when it does appear, skewered meats are often the focus. This is no doubt a core component of the cuisine but overshadows the fact that it's vegetarian-friendly and characterised by its use of floral, sweet and sour flavours, adding complexity and balance to each dish. (For context, Samin Nosrat, author of Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, is also Persian.)
Salamatea, however, brings this back into focus. It’s like a best-of list of dishes and ingredients from the region, presented in a familiar Melbourne café format. The Campos coffee with Schulz milk (or your choice of non-dairy) is as good as any around, though the sharbat, cordials flavoured with either lemon and saffron or sour cherry, are better indications of what to expect fro
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On the occasion a restaurant with national cult status makes its move to Melbourne, our enthusiasm isn’t always instantaneous. Sure, Sydney might rave on about a particular Italian lunch spot or buzzy bar crew, but does that mean it will be a surefire hit here in Victoria? Not necessarily. It’s with open minds my partner and I hit the road to visit the new Totti’s from hospo supergroup Merivale – 12 months young on the ground level of the Lorne Hotel, and the first interstate outpost for the Bondi-based brand.
We know the abridged version of the Totti’s story: this is fun, flavour-packed Italian fare that doesn’t take itself too seriously, with a glam roll call of cocktails and wood-fired flatbread that’s (supposedly) so good it’s gone viral on social media. We’re ready to see – and taste – if it all lives up to the hype.
The host is warm and welcoming and we’re escorted to a table by the open window. There’s a cruisy al fresco feeling to the space, despite the fact we’re technically sitting inside. The eatery itself is airy and modern, though there’s a hint of traditional Italian trattoria about it too, evident in long salami links that hang by the bar and handsome wooden chairs. You probably wouldn’t want to walk in wearing bathers and thongs, but true to Lorne’s vibe, the overall impression is easygoing and relaxed. I can see myself slipping in for a cocktail and a plate of antipasti, post-swim.
We settle in and start with cocktails: a signature Totti’s Margarita and Ipe
Back in 2018, the little Ripponlea restaurant that could rose to a surprise #20 entry on the much-debated (and occasionally controversial) World’s 50 Best Restaurants list. It overtook Brae’s entry the year before at #44 and set Attica firmly in the minds of the international jetset.
Ben Shewry’s experimental and unflinchingly Australian ten-course degustation has since tumbled out of the top 50, this year not even making the cut in the top 100. So what does this all mean for one of the most loved and well-known restaurants in the country? Does it still live up to its original hype years later, in 2022?
I’m happy to say, it certainly has – and that the list’s snub in favour of another, more hyped Melbourne restaurant for me, misses the mark, because Attica is still one of the most innovative, experimental, and more importantly, delicious fine dining experiences to be had in Melbourne. But, my rapturous superlatives aside, it’s almost not enough to explain why Attica is so important to Melbourne’s dining scene – so, let me explain.
We start our Attica journey greeted by the friendly, approachable staff, one of whom explains that they’ll offer us a series of dad jokes throughout, to accompany the meal. Although the first never materialises, what does is a simple dish of 'First Nations finger foods'; including a simulated bush tomato – a hard to source native ingredient – recreated here with a cherry tomato, stuffed with raisin and coated in bush tomato powder. It’s sweet, sou
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2024 update: The below review was written in 2018, and some details may have altered since then.
Dining on Flinders Lane requires a game-plan, because more often than not, you’ll be lining-up for a table. This is especially true for Supernormal, which is, after seven years in the game, one of those restaurants people are willing to wait hours to eat at. But is this Asian-influenced, McConnell diner still worth the queue time? Definitely.
A few things have changed since opening back in 2013. Firstly, you can book a table up until 5.30pm, then it’s first come, first served. Secondly, Supernormal is no longer just Tokyo-inspired; it now lends its flavours to some other big cities like Seoul, Hong Kong and Shanghai as well. Thirdly, you can order some of your favourite dishes like the lobster roll, chicken dumplings, Szechuan lamb or even peanut butter parfait to have take-away.
What hasn’t changed is the frenetic energy in the space; the team work like a well-oiled machine with military precision and they look happy (rather than stressed) to be taking care of hundreds of people at a time. The room is still light, sparse and warmed by the glow of pink neon, but what of that karaoke room? It’s still there for private parties.
Dishes like the New England lobster roll and the twice-cooked duck leg bao have never left the menu (and have followed McConnell from Golden Fields), but there are new items like the tonkatsu sandwich (lunch only) and the sweet, soft, double-steamed, once-fr
2024 update: This below review was written in 2015 and some menu items may have changed since. Magic Mountain has recently added to its offerings a bottomless brunch club. Find out more at the website.
It’s also a welcome new addition to the hospo family that includes next-door louche-fest Boney as well as the (by comparison) positively august Cookie, The Toff in Town and Revolver Upstairs. Cookie’s your best jumping-off point for understanding the new sibling. It has the same fiery approach to Thai food courtesy of chef Karen Batson, who doesn’t pander to any namby-pamby local palates when firing up the chilli guns. A raw dish of excellent whole green prawns and cured kingfish with a smooshy green chilli and garlic dressing makes like an atomic bomb (although the promised bitter melon has either gone AWOL or been subsumed into the gloop). You’ll be breathing fire and garlic for the rest of the evening but that, in our opinion, is a fair price to pay.
Magic Mountain Saloon is an out-there name for an out-there place. An abject Irish theme pub has been no-expense-spared into a tri-level eating and drinking house with no clear delineation between zones save for the DJ on the second-floor mezzanine, spinning the kind of sounds that makes everyone think their mobile phone is ringing. There’s neon, there’s white marble, there are high seats and low seats and proper napkins and staff as friendly as a pack of Golden Retrievers (with better drinks-carrying skills). On that front, it’
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2024 update: The below review was written in 2022 and some menu items and offerings may have changed. We've since attended the restaurant for a hosted Mughlai-style set menu in winter 2023 as part of the restaurant's rotation of seasonal offerings, which we highly recommend.
Spoiler alert: you don’t enter via laundry anymore. The success of Helly Raichura’s tiny at-home Box Hill restaurant has precipitated her move to more “serious” Carlton North digs,although the laneway entrance retains the enticing air of mystery (as does finding out theactual address only after booking).
But while the location has changed, the brief of one of Melbourne’s most singulardegustations remains the same: to explain and explore the food of her Indian heritage.Not, the record should note, that it’s possible to condense the immense nation’s fiveregions, 29 states and their myriad sub-groupings into anything approaching a single meal,even one packing almost 20 dishes.
Hence the lengthy meal changing its focus seasonally. Winter was all about seafood-centricBengal and spring has seen a deep dive into the cuisine of Kashmir, the meat-heavynorthern region. As an added curveball, Raichura’s menu flirts with Australian nativeingredients, bringing the occasional introductions from the waiter about colonialisation andglobalisation into a local context.
Sound heavy? The communal table with its “dinner party at a friend’s home” vibes does itsbit to bring the pressure down (although there’s another room for
Mar 2024 update: The below review was written in 2017. Sandwich options may have changed since we visited so please check the website to see what's currently on offer.
When the 18th-century English aristocrat John Montagu, aka the 4th Earl of Sandwich, started the trend of eating meat tucked between bread, he could never have envisioned how far the humble sandwich would come. Now we have Hector’s Deli, a café in Richmond dedicated to sandwiches – classic combinations made with high-quality ingredients and decked out with extra flourishes. The menu offers five options (and if you're lucky, a few specials) and that’s about it. No eggs. No fancy plating. No cutlery. But considering co-owners Jason Barratt and Dom Wilton have worked at Melbourne institutions like Stokehouse and Attica, you should buckle up for a sandwich shop with some serious cachet.
The café is housed in a former milk bar on a quiet suburban street, away from the hustle and bustle of Richmond’s main strips but even so the tiny space still hums with throngs of locals. Barratt and Wilton are behind the white-tiled kitchen-cum-register dishing one sarnie after another, while warmly greeting customers, many by name. Couples with dogs wait for barista Zac Kelly’s creamy, strong flat whites made from Axil Roasters coffee beans and hungry kids are placated with flaky croissants from Rustica, also their bread supplier. It’s like the Cheers of sandwich shops.
If you’re visiting during the early shift, order the pastrami
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Mar 2024 update: The below review was written in 2019, however we've since updated opening hours, imagery and other relevant information. Fun fact: Harry Styles was spotted at this eatery in 2023.
Cibi translates to ‘little one’ from Japanese, but the beloved Collingwood café and concept store of the same name made a big move last October. Originally opened over a decade ago by husband and wife Meg and Zenta Tanaka, Cibi has relocated (albeit next door) to a spacious, light-flooded warehouse – there’s now more room to display its beautiful products and, importantly, ample space for more diners to become devotees of its famed Japanese-style breakfasts.
The Tanakas’ philosophy is to look at life through the eyes of our younger selves. Correspondingly, the compact menu champions simplicity. Fusing Japanese ingredients and cooking methods with Western flavours and seasonal produce results in well-balanced dishes and modest serving sizes, staying true to the Japanese proverb and one of Cibi’s mantras – hara-hachi-bun-me (eating until you are 80 percent full is eating in moderation).
Despite the larger space there’s a short wait for a table on a sunny Sunday morning. The room hums with chatter as people tackle free-range eggs, roasted eggplant and butternut squash caramelised with sweet house-made miso buried under a thick blanket of oozy provolone cheese – it tastes as cosy as it looks. Salmon cured in-house with sake and kombu is served with a soft-boiled egg and pickled daikon w
Good, honest food. Sometimes, it’s the only thing you crave. Like the type of meal your grandmother prepared for you when you were a child. Or freshly rolled pierogi. Having already tasted the latter from the famous Melbourne market stall Pierogi Pierogi, this is exactly the type of experience I anticipated at a popular new Brunswick East restaurant that’s run by the same owners: soul-warming, humble and tasty. The couple at the helm, Guy Daley and Dominika Sikorska, are known for bringing some of the most authentic Polish cuisine to Melbourne (a Polish friend of mine can attest to this) and the hype had risen to a point where I was hearing about Eat Pierogi Make Love on the daily.
So my partner and I wander in on a Thursday evening without a booking – it’s walk-in only – and are lucky to secure two stools at the bar. The place is heaving. And what a golden vibe. Dusky natural light streams through the windows to cast a warm glow throughout the high-ceilinged space. One of the things I love most about Eastern European food is the smell: that cosy, vegetal aroma that makes one think of rainy days in, a pot of soup bubbling away on the stove. Yes, that permeates the air here, but other sensory touches add to the warmth, too: a nostalgic 2010s indie music playlist, colourful paintings from Polish artists splashed across the walls and a cheeky-looking cactus by the door. You can nestle in a booth or even sit outside in a sunny courtyard, but we’re glad to be at the bar with fron
Anyone with even the slightest interest in Melbourne’s food and hospitality scene has been talking about Reine and La Rue as of late. The highly ambitious project from Nomad Group has transformed Melbourne’s hallowed old Stock Exchange building into a European-inspired restaurant as ritzy as it is regal, with a speakeasy bar (the Rue part) accessible through an adjoining courtyard. It’s the first time the space has been open to the public in more than 20 years and the obsession is real. But big talk doesn’t always lead to a big walk, and so I was determined to discover if the new dining venture is as good as others say. Spoiler alert: it’s even better.
The neo-gothic structure on Collins Street isn’t difficult to imagine gilded in Nomad’s brand of splendour, and even prior to its metamorphosis the late 1800s space was a vision to behold. Picture high vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows and limestone walls. The restoration of the main dining area, known as the 'Cathedral Room', now sees new marble bar tops, brass detailing and caramel leather banquets installed in the space, all thanks to a highly adept team of designers and ateliers. It’s nothing short of majestic.
On a Friday afternoon, cruisy tunes that sound like they came straight from a So Frenchy So Chic playlist float up towards the cavernous arches and I take my place by the oyster bar. The service staff, while suitably presented in swish fine dining uniforms, are the definition of organised chaos. One takes my co
Good, honest food. Sometimes, it’s the only thing you crave. Like the type of meal your grandmother prepared for you when you were a child. Or freshly rolled pierogi. Having already tasted the latter from the famous Melbourne market stall Pierogi Pierogi, this is exactly the type of experience I anticipated at a popular new Brunswick East restaurant that’s run by the same owners: soul-warming, humble and tasty. The couple at the helm, Guy Daley and Dominika Sikorska, are known for bringing some of the most authentic Polish cuisine to Melbourne (a Polish friend of mine can attest to this) and the hype had risen to a point where I was hearing about Eat Pierogi Make Love on the daily.
So my partner and I wander in on a Thursday evening without a booking – it’s walk-in only – and are lucky to secure two stools at the bar. The place is heaving. And what a golden vibe. Dusky natural light streams through the windows to cast a warm glow throughout the high-ceilinged space. One of the things I love most about Eastern European food is the smell: that cosy, vegetal aroma that makes one think of rainy days in, a pot of soup bubbling away on the stove. Yes, that permeates the air here, but other sensory touches add to the warmth, too: a nostalgic 2010s indie music playlist, colourful paintings from Polish artists splashed across the walls and a cheeky-looking cactus by the door. You can nestle in a booth or even sit outside in a sunny courtyard, but we’re glad to be at the bar with fron
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To question Gimlet’s beauty is like pondering out loud whether the sky is blue. One foot through the door into the Trader House team’s almighty fine diner and you’re swept into an era of astonishingly impressive 1920s glamour. The handsome, plush curved booths invite you to settle in and share a bottle of Champers with a friend, uniformed staff skate around the floor with ease, and warm light dances off the grand chandeliers overhead. It’s undeniably fabulous, but also cosy at the same time – less ostentatious ‘razzle-dazzle’ and more hearth-y and heartwarming somehow, even in all its magnificence.
Tonight, my friend and I are seated at the perimeter of the amphitheatre-like dining room, affording us generous views of both the sparkling hubbub of Russell Street at dusk and the swish centrepiece bar down the steps. Every dish that hovers by only serves to build that feeling of wistful anticipation, for while Gimlet is precious to look at (and sit in), our senses are set firmly on the food.
Of course, a Gimlet cocktail is the first thing you should start off with at Gimlet. And there is no better take on that juicy gin and lime invention in Melbourne than the classic one you can drink here. Refreshing and expertly balanced with moscato and a touch of Geraldton wax, it’s pure sophistication in a glass. We also knock back a Punch, a playful concoction of Jamaican rum, pomegranate wine falernum, hibiscus tea and pomegranate yoghurt. It’s a sublime start to the evening.
One need
When you first step into the stylish airlock entrance at Stokehouse, the transportation to another world is immediate. Suspended in the liminal space, the door behind you closes and the noisy buzz of St Kilda’s busy streets fades to a calming hum. A journey begins.
Up the stairs, we head to the first floor where the magic awaits. The host is attentive and charming from the outset, offering to take our coats and guiding us to our seats before introducing the other service staff who’ll be taking care of us for the night. But while impressed, we’re not really surprised.
This is Stokehouse, after all, a bastion of traditional hospitality and serene comfort since the early 1990s. But I want to know – after all this time, does the food and drink still stack up to the restaurant’s lofty reputation? Let’s find out.
During the day, Stokehouse’s broad, floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the glistening beach, flooding the dining space with rays of sun. At night, however, it’s a moodier setting, with warm lamps and designer chandeliers elevating the interior decor – a theatre for food and sea under the moonlight.
On this chilly evening, the beach is roaring as loudly as the wind is howling, and my partner and I are feeling cosy and romantic by the window. The only word for it is cinematic. After placing our orders, we’re paid a visit by the sommelier. He’s got drink suggestions to pair with our menu choices if we’re interested – of course, we are. A dry Tasmanian brut and a bright Vene
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For weeks, it was the name we’d heard most on the lips of our food-obsessed friends: Alta Trattoria. What could be so extraordinary about yet another Italian joint in a city brimming with some of the best of them? We couldn’t yet know, but we weren’t about to wait a minute longer to find out. After all, pasta is good, but good pasta is everything – even when you’re privileged enough to have already tasted some of the silkiest, sauciest and slurp-worthiest in all the land.
Do your research though, and you’ll quickly discover that Alta Trattoria is not, in fact, just “another Italian joint”. The restaurant’s specialty is a little different, zeroing in on the northern Italian region of Piedmont, which is located at the foot of the Alps and home to some of the boot nation’s most prized culinary exports. In addition, the team behind Alta Trattoria includes Luke Drum (Carlton Wine Room), chef McKay Wilday (Victoria by Farmers Daughters), Carlo Grossi (Ombra, Grossi Florentino) and vino expert James Tait (King and Godfree). A formidable crew like this at the helm is nothing to sniff at – so off we trotted on a Friday night.
Tucked away off Brunswick Street, a tomato-red-painted restaurant quietly hums with good cheer and Italo-pop music. One dining area looks out onto the graffiti-decorated side street, the other’s nestled against an imposing bar. The friendly, bustling atmosphere belies a hidden thread of formality that ties the whole operation together with the finesse of a more
This is very much going to sound like a first-world problem, but sometimes you’re simply not in the mood for the laborious mental demands of high-brow degustation dining. Unlike hoeing into a bowl of spag bol at your mum’s house or sharing a pizza with friends, taking the time to critically ponder the creative life’s work of a chef can feel tense and serious. This is why after a 45-minute drive from Melbourne to Beaconsfield, I’m grateful to discover the famous O.My to be a surprisingly relaxing affair. It’s hushed with natural light, as comfortable as a reading room in a library, and boasts no ostentatious distractions or highfalutin tricks up its sleeve. Serenity, at last.
The space is coloured only by splashes of cheeky modern art (there’s a painting of a man inhaling wine so enthusiastically that it’s spilt all over his suit, for example), and the vibrant personality of my sommelier. We chat a little about the local farmers’ market happening nearby, and he playfully takes a look at the blurb of the book I’ve brought with me. The plan is to do the four-course seasonal menu with snacks, sourdough and drink pairings, a shorter experience than the seven-course experience also on offer, but nevertheless not to be rushed. He’s there as a guide to talk me through each dish and make sure I’m taken care of, but promises not to hover too much that I feel encroached. It’s a lovely, breezy way to do service, and I’m started off with a glass of crisp sub-alpine sparkling wine from Hol
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Having trouble finding Soi 38? Just follow your nose. While the address is equal parts intriguing and perplexing, the heady scent of Thailand – its star anise, galangal, chilli, lime and herbs – will lure you inside the multi-level poured concrete carpark down a laneway off Bourke Street.
Don’t go thinking this cheap-eat champion is big on the novelty and low on the substance. The brightly coloured haunt in the middle of the urban jungle can claim to have introduced Melbourne to authentic Bangkok-style boat noodles. Lurking in a pungent, funky soup brothwith a host of add-ons (braised pork or beef, a pork ball and crackling, bean sprouts andcoriander), the springy noodles ballast the sort of one-dish wonder that encompasses theentire food pyramid, big on flavour and even bigger on comfort.
Owners Andy Buchan and Top Kijphavee kicked off in 2015 serving just boat noodles and prawn wontons in tom yum soup. But the people have spoken, and they’ve incrementally added more menu items (all hail the duck larb, a spicy, crackle-textured delight) before throwing caution to the wind with a dinner service as well.
Boat noodles aren’t on the menu by night, but the Thai barbecue and hotpot provide ampleconsolation, albeit one cloaked in the agony of indecision. Will it be the pork skewers known as moo ping, the fatty meat first marinated in fish and soy sauce and mollified with a post-grill brush with coconut milk, or the swatches of golden calamari with a pungent lime-forward dipping sau
From the moment you book the full seasonal tasting experience on Amaru’s website, you know you’re in for an odyssey. It’s the restaurant’s most extravagant offering, after all – with five snacks, seven courses and petit fours, plus optional drink pairings. Skipping brekky isn’t a bad idea, but that’s not to say the food at Amaru will be dense or cumbersome – the progression of light to heavier dishes is carefully designed, a thoughtful pacing that allows you to take as long as you please in comfort.
Situated on a leafy boutique strip in Armadale amidst bridal shops and delis, the 34-seat venue is surprisingly low-key inside. Behind the sheer curtains concealing it from the outside world, you’re met with a starkly understated dining room accented with natural timber, earthy textiles, brushed grey walls and a statement vase of native flowers. The tables are widely spaced apart, offering a private sanctuary for languid, leisurely dining – which you’ll certainly need to fully immerse yourself in every bite that comes your way. Despite being a fine diner, there’s a mostly relaxed feel to Amaru, only interrupted when you sense a brief rush or moment of tension in the kitchen.
Curious about the housemade and fermented drinks that feature in the non-alcoholic program, I’ve opted to go booze-free today. The waiter encourages a sly glance at the wine list, and I sneak in a glass of sprightly cider from Normandy as an aperitif. It’s with equal parts trepidation and excitement that I’ve
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Back in 2018, the little Ripponlea restaurant that could rose to a surprise #20 entry on the much-debated (and occasionally controversial) World’s 50 Best Restaurants list. It overtook Brae’s entry the year before at #44 and set Attica firmly in the minds of the international jetset.
Ben Shewry’s experimental and unflinchingly Australian ten-course degustation has since tumbled out of the top 50, this year not even making the cut in the top 100. So what does this all mean for one of the most loved and well-known restaurants in the country? Does it still live up to its original hype years later, in 2022?
I’m happy to say, it certainly has – and that the list’s snub in favour of another, more hyped Melbourne restaurant for me, misses the mark, because Attica is still one of the most innovative, experimental, and more importantly, delicious fine dining experiences to be had in Melbourne. But, my rapturous superlatives aside, it’s almost not enough to explain why Attica is so important to Melbourne’s dining scene – so, let me explain.
We start our Attica journey greeted by the friendly, approachable staff, one of whom explains that they’ll offer us a series of dad jokes throughout, to accompany the meal. Although the first never materialises, what does is a simple dish of 'First Nations finger foods'; including a simulated bush tomato – a hard to source native ingredient – recreated here with a cherry tomato, stuffed with raisin and coated in bush tomato powder. It’s sweet, sou
We’ve all had our fair share of unsatisfying tacos in life. An oily one here, with fish that’s not fresh. A dry one there, with paltry fillings. It’s with this sense of caution that we approach the neon-lit sign of CDMX Taqueria, a brand new taco joint that’s still in the process of cementing its reputation. But so far, word on the street has been promising.
Melbourne’s current offering of Tex-Mex fare, while undeniably a pleasure in its own dirty way, weighs heavily on the palate as rival chains try to outcompete each other on maximum flavour and calorie for dollar. And so in the last decade, the cry for true Mexican fare in Melbourne has echoed far and wide, with CDMX being the newest taqueria to respond. The same husband-and-wife team behind Seddon’s Superchido, Beatrice Nacor and Daniel Pineda have brought their artisanal taco recipes straight from the heart of Mexico City, or as the Mexicans call it: Ciudad de México (CDMX – hence the name). What started as a wildly successful pop-up in Melbourne Central now boasts a spacious sister taqueria in Brunswick East.
The latter is where I’m bringing my investigative appetite on a Saturday afternoon. The new shopfront boasts a floor-to-ceiling window affording an open view of Lygon Street’s more happening end. Inside, striking blue and white tiles stretch across the walls to the bar, well-stocked with a bohemian selection of mezcal and tequila. It’s a clean and modern space, with stools by the bar for lounging with a drink, plu
Hamed Allahyari was a chef and restaurateur in Tehran, Iran until 2012 when religious conflict forced him to flee to Australia. His love for hospitality never left him. Upon arriving in Australia, he began working with Asylum Seeker Resource Centre Catering and Free to Feed, two social enterprises designed to support new migrants through food and dining. Then, seven years later, he opened Café Sunshine & Salamatea, a social enterprise restaurant designed to employ, train and mentor asylum seekers and refugees facing similar paths to him.
It’s been a beloved local gathering place ever since – not just for its friendly, community focus but for its approachable Persian fare, which is hard to come by in Melbourne. Iranian food is not well represented here and when it does appear, skewered meats are often the focus. This is no doubt a core component of the cuisine but overshadows the fact that it's vegetarian-friendly and characterised by its use of floral, sweet and sour flavours, adding complexity and balance to each dish. (For context, Samin Nosrat, author of Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, is also Persian.)
Salamatea, however, brings this back into focus. It’s like a best-of list of dishes and ingredients from the region, presented in a familiar Melbourne café format. The Campos coffee with Schulz milk (or your choice of non-dairy) is as good as any around, though the sharbat, cordials flavoured with either lemon and saffron or sour cherry, are better indications of what to expect fro
Mar 2024 update: The below review was written in 2017. Sandwich options may have changed since we visited so please check the website to see what's currently on offer.
When the 18th-century English aristocrat John Montagu, aka the 4th Earl of Sandwich, started the trend of eating meat tucked between bread, he could never have envisioned how far the humble sandwich would come. Now we have Hector’s Deli, a café in Richmond dedicated to sandwiches – classic combinations made with high-quality ingredients and decked out with extra flourishes. The menu offers five options (and if you're lucky, a few specials) and that’s about it. No eggs. No fancy plating. No cutlery. But considering co-owners Jason Barratt and Dom Wilton have worked at Melbourne institutions like Stokehouse and Attica, you should buckle up for a sandwich shop with some serious cachet.
The café is housed in a former milk bar on a quiet suburban street, away from the hustle and bustle of Richmond’s main strips but even so the tiny space still hums with throngs of locals. Barratt and Wilton are behind the white-tiled kitchen-cum-register dishing one sarnie after another, while warmly greeting customers, many by name. Couples with dogs wait for barista Zac Kelly’s creamy, strong flat whites made from Axil Roasters coffee beans and hungry kids are placated with flaky croissants from Rustica, also their bread supplier. It’s like the Cheers of sandwich shops.
If you’re visiting during the early shift, order the pastrami
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We’ve all had our fair share of unsatisfying tacos in life. An oily one here, with fish that’s not fresh. A dry one there, with paltry fillings. It’s with this sense of caution that we approach the neon-lit sign of CDMX Taqueria, a brand new taco joint that’s still in the process of cementing its reputation. But so far, word on the street has been promising.
Melbourne’s current offering of Tex-Mex fare, while undeniably a pleasure in its own dirty way, weighs heavily on the palate as rival chains try to outcompete each other on maximum flavour and calorie for dollar. And so in the last decade, the cry for true Mexican fare in Melbourne has echoed far and wide, with CDMX being the newest taqueria to respond. The same husband-and-wife team behind Seddon’s Superchido, Beatrice Nacor and Daniel Pineda have brought their artisanal taco recipes straight from the heart of Mexico City, or as the Mexicans call it: Ciudad de México (CDMX – hence the name). What started as a wildly successful pop-up in Melbourne Central now boasts a spacious sister taqueria in Brunswick East.
The latter is where I’m bringing my investigative appetite on a Saturday afternoon. The new shopfront boasts a floor-to-ceiling window affording an open view of Lygon Street’s more happening end. Inside, striking blue and white tiles stretch across the walls to the bar, well-stocked with a bohemian selection of mezcal and tequila. It’s a clean and modern space, with stools by the bar for lounging with a drink, plu
Anyone who’s ever found themselves ravenous in the heart of Fitzroy North village knows there’s no shortage of tasty options in the area. There are Loafer’s ever-popular buttery breakfast rolls loaded with kale, egg and tempeh (if you can snatch one before they’ve run out), Israeli-style pita wraps from hipster fave Just Falafs, piping-hot pies from Dench, crowd-pleasing brunch dishes from Tin Pot Café and just a five-minute stroll down the street, authentic Japanese curry and brioche toasts from much loved kissaten, Taiyo Sun. Locals are beyond blessed.
But if you let your nose do the choosing, it’s nigh impossible to walk past Citrus. On the daily, aromas of curry leaves, onion and rich cinnamon and cloves waft out of the friendly corner eatery – an inviting preview of the homestyle Sri Lankan buffet available within. When it’s cold out, the windows steam up, and in the hotter months, people who’ve spent a day lazing about nearby Eddy Gardens spill in. It’s not the only all-you-can-eat Sri Lankan offering in Melbourne right now (there’s Maalu Maalu in Brunswick, and a more recent opening, Serendib in Northcote), but it’s one of the first, and for that, we pay our respects.
The premise is clear. Cough up $20 and you’ll get to fill your plate as high as you like from the ten-plus dishes on show. An extra $5 gives you bottomless access, meaning you can go back for as much as your belly will allow. Drinks and desserts cost extra, a fair ask. On my visit, I start with an authen
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If you love food, there’s a thrill in eating out wherever you go. But it’s always a lot more exciting when you’re not super familiar with the cuisine. It’s hardwired into our brains to seek novelty, and while living in a multicultural city like Melbourne affords many of us the privilege of exploring all corners of the globe through taste, there are inevitably pockets we overlook.
Vola Foods specialises in Cameroonian cuisine, a melting pot of flavours from the north, west and centre of Africa, with a dash of Arabic and European influence. How many other Cameroonian joints are there in Melbourne? Not many that I’ve found, if any. So my partner and I are, in a word, pumped. This is going to be a new West African food experience.
Vola sprung up in June 2021, smack-bang in the midst of one of our harshest lockdowns. Popular for takeaways, it metamorphosed over time into the buzzy yet secret gem it is today. Google Maps leads the way, but our ears also help us navigate, picking up on boppy Nigerian Afrobeats tunes floating out from the speakers in a nearby parking lot. It’s here that head chef and owner Ashley Vola’s team sling her coveted jollof rice, puff puff (fried African dough balls) and mouth-watering barbecued meats from a bright orange shipping container.
You may remember Vola from the short-lived reality show Plate of Origin, which aired in 2020, when she teamed up with her sister Kelly to showcase African food in an internationally-inspired cooking contest. When she pu
On a rainy Sunday arvo, it's hard to know what to expect on your way to Taita’s House ('taita' is Arabic for grandmother). Are you actually going to someone’s house? Will there be obvious signage or will you have to knock on some strange door, only to be met by a perplexed old Lebanese woman and her wooden spoon? Our concerns are fast assuaged as we approach the restaurant and see tables and chairs scattered out the front of a clearly marked establishment.
At first glance, the dining space seems somewhat reminiscent of a casual kebab shop. A bright orange sign gleefully announces ice cream, while a TV mounted on the wall blares sentimental Lebanese music videos. The young woman behind the counter welcomes us in and shows us to our seats. It’s fresh inside, and if we're being honest – a little chilly. But as we sit down at the table and settle in, our attention rests on warmer details.
A small electric heater playfully disguises itself as a mini fireplace. There’s an old farmhouse-blue cabinet filled with colourful teapots and tubs of cutlery. Artworks depicting provincial scenes decorate the space, and partially exposed brick walls are painted with the Lebanese national flag.
We approach the counter to rattle off our wish list, and moments later our waitress arrives at the table to ask if we’d like some dips while we wait. A hot pot of freshly brewed cinnamon tea is the first to arrive with little glass teacups to drink it from, followed by ghannouge and a basket of crisp an
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Having trouble finding Soi 38? Just follow your nose. While the address is equal parts intriguing and perplexing, the heady scent of Thailand – its star anise, galangal, chilli, lime and herbs – will lure you inside the multi-level poured concrete carpark down a laneway off Bourke Street.
Don’t go thinking this cheap-eat champion is big on the novelty and low on the substance. The brightly coloured haunt in the middle of the urban jungle can claim to have introduced Melbourne to authentic Bangkok-style boat noodles. Lurking in a pungent, funky soup brothwith a host of add-ons (braised pork or beef, a pork ball and crackling, bean sprouts andcoriander), the springy noodles ballast the sort of one-dish wonder that encompasses theentire food pyramid, big on flavour and even bigger on comfort.
Owners Andy Buchan and Top Kijphavee kicked off in 2015 serving just boat noodles and prawn wontons in tom yum soup. But the people have spoken, and they’ve incrementally added more menu items (all hail the duck larb, a spicy, crackle-textured delight) before throwing caution to the wind with a dinner service as well.
Boat noodles aren’t on the menu by night, but the Thai barbecue and hotpot provide ampleconsolation, albeit one cloaked in the agony of indecision. Will it be the pork skewers known as moo ping, the fatty meat first marinated in fish and soy sauce and mollified with a post-grill brush with coconut milk, or the swatches of golden calamari with a pungent lime-forward dipping sau
If you’re lucky enough to work at the top end of the city, Babajan’s second outpost can be your go-to lunch destination. It's tucked away in a nondescript row of shops with the faintly perceptible gold letters engraved on the window the only indication that it’s Babajan, but the line out the door will nonetheless alert you to the plethora of pastries, sandwiches and desserts that await within.
Like its original shop in Carlton North – widely regarded as one of the more interesting and inventive brunch places in the inner north – which transitioned permanently into a takeaway-only venue during successive lockdowns, there is no space for dining in at Babajan’s Little Collins branch. There are a select few chairs outside but on a nice day, you’d be better off embarking on the one-minute walk towards the triangle of greenery between Spring Street and Macarthur Street and enjoying your food and Proud Mary coffee while soaking up some rays.
Uniformly organised floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with Babajan’s retail products line the tiny store. Nothing in the glass cabinets except desserts is labelled, but the person behind the counter on our visit is only too happy to reel off the meticulously assembled daily rotating sandwiches, boreks and salads – with spices such as sumac, cardamom and baharat jumping out in his speedy introductions. Freshly baked rings of simit – sesame-crusted Turkish bread – sit on the counter too.
The two sandwiches on the day we visit are Babajan Little
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Jim’s Greek Tavern first opened in 1980, and its charm has endured. In a city with countless dainty wine bars and finicky degustation menus (we love them), Jim’s has persisted due to its distinctive style and ambience. Simple, generous, flavourful Greek food is on the bill here - and the no corkage beer, wine and anything-in-between BYO policy don't hurt either. Two large rooms in white brick with soft blue details encapsulate the Greek patriotism that this restaurant is all about. Service is a medley of brusque, smiley or cordial – but it's always professional. Their ability to service over 200 guests on a busy night is just one of the things they’ve perfected in 40-something years.
The Panagopoulos family have been at the helm of Jim’s since its establishment and the impudent and jocular way in which the staff converse with each other personifies the family feel. Although there is a menu, you won't be offered one when you arrive. Instead, the waiter will reel off dishes by their principal ingredient, “fish, lamb, salad” – it's best if you just sit back and nod. Although this does mean you play a version of roulette with the bill, the gargantuan portions and aforementioned free corkage mean you usually break even.
Food comes out at a frenetic pace, and the waiters will usually be ferrying several plates of a singular dish to surrounding tables. Saganaki arrives in a heavy-bottomed fry pan with a thick slice of lemon. It's nutty and salty, but its appeal is temperature relia
Only a fried chicken joint with the aesthetic of Belle’s could comfortably occupy the corner of Napier and Gertrude Street. A stretch traditionally inhabited by niche, locally stocked retail, galleries, boutique furniture stores and the odd café, it seems any run-of-the-mill American style-diner was surely doomed to fail. But Kiwi-born Morgan McGlone managed to nail the intersection between comfort food and Fitzroy spunk just perfectly when he opened the doors to Belle’s Hot Chicken back in 2014. Nearly a decade later, it’s a neighbourhood legend.
After leaving behind Sydney's fine dining scene, McGlone found himself as chef de cuisine at Tennesse's acclaimed Husk restaurant. It was there he fell in love with Nashville hot chicken, the fierier, lighter version of its indulgent Southern counterpart. Hallmarks include a serious amount of smoked paprika, cayenne pepper and chilli powder – yes, it's bright, bright red. Add an acid kick of house-made sour pickles and a spongy piece of white bread and you're in for a great time. Belle's was an instant hit.
By now, Nashville-style chicken isn’t exactly hard to come by – but Belle’s still manages to carve out a particular niche. Accents of the brand's signature red mix with mid-century modern furniture and light fittings; timber panelling curves into a stucco plaster ceiling and a white subway tiled bar adds to a distinctly retro feel. A disco ball hangs earnestly from the ceiling near a vinyl player and huge windows frame leather b
Mar 2024 update: The below review was written in 2017. Sandwich options may have changed since we visited so please check the website to see what's currently on offer.
When the 18th-century English aristocrat John Montagu, aka the 4th Earl of Sandwich, started the trend of eating meat tucked between bread, he could never have envisioned how far the humble sandwich would come. Now we have Hector’s Deli, a café in Richmond dedicated to sandwiches – classic combinations made with high-quality ingredients and decked out with extra flourishes. The menu offers five options (and if you're lucky, a few specials) and that’s about it. No eggs. No fancy plating. No cutlery. But considering co-owners Jason Barratt and Dom Wilton have worked at Melbourne institutions like Stokehouse and Attica, you should buckle up for a sandwich shop with some serious cachet.
The café is housed in a former milk bar on a quiet suburban street, away from the hustle and bustle of Richmond’s main strips but even so the tiny space still hums with throngs of locals. Barratt and Wilton are behind the white-tiled kitchen-cum-register dishing one sarnie after another, while warmly greeting customers, many by name. Couples with dogs wait for barista Zac Kelly’s creamy, strong flat whites made from Axil Roasters coffee beans and hungry kids are placated with flaky croissants from Rustica, also their bread supplier. It’s like the Cheers of sandwich shops.
If you’re visiting during the early shift, order the pastrami
Mar 2024 update: The below review was written in 2019, however we've since updated opening hours, imagery and other relevant information. Fun fact: Harry Styles was spotted at this eatery in 2023.
Cibi translates to ‘little one’ from Japanese, but the beloved Collingwood café and concept store of the same name made a big move last October. Originally opened over a decade ago by husband and wife Meg and Zenta Tanaka, Cibi has relocated (albeit next door) to a spacious, light-flooded warehouse – there’s now more room to display its beautiful products and, importantly, ample space for more diners to become devotees of its famed Japanese-style breakfasts.
The Tanakas’ philosophy is to look at life through the eyes of our younger selves. Correspondingly, the compact menu champions simplicity. Fusing Japanese ingredients and cooking methods with Western flavours and seasonal produce results in well-balanced dishes and modest serving sizes, staying true to the Japanese proverb and one of Cibi’s mantras – hara-hachi-bun-me (eating until you are 80 percent full is eating in moderation).
Despite the larger space there’s a short wait for a table on a sunny Sunday morning. The room hums with chatter as people tackle free-range eggs, roasted eggplant and butternut squash caramelised with sweet house-made miso buried under a thick blanket of oozy provolone cheese – it tastes as cosy as it looks. Salmon cured in-house with sake and kombu is served with a soft-boiled egg and pickled daikon w
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Sometimes you just need to start your morning with a stack of fluffy pancakes, a greasy cheeseburger, a side of crispy bacon and a chocolate milkshake. Because you know, balance. And when that’s all served up alongside a retro-chic, old-school diner fitout with a welcoming service you’re not left wanting much more.
Operator Diner, nestled in the dynamic Wesley Place development opposite Caretaker’s Cottage (one of our city's great bars), is bringing something different and exciting to the Melbourne café scene. The team from Operator25 takes us on a journey with this new venue, not only to the US of A, but also back in time, to the good ol’ days of jukebox-playing, pie-slinging, neon-lit diners. A considered design by architects We Are Humble, which brings brown-leather banquettes, cafeteria-style chairs, and orange and yellow '70s sunshine tones to life, manages to achieve a playful and charming atmosphere that doesn’t feel gimmicky or overdone.
On weekday mornings, the café bustles with office workers lining up for a takeaway coffee and breakfast roll or a chocolate hazelnut croissant (from AM Bakehouse in Glen Iris). By the time the weekend rolls around, crowds arrive looking for a hangover cure, and to share stacks of pancakes with Nutella sauce, cookie crumbs and vanilla ice cream.
The breakfast menu runs all day and puts diners in a pickle trying to choose between French toast with cinnamon and maple syrup or a triple-cheese grilled sandwich served alongside a tomato
A Fitzroy staple since 2013, the beloved Industry Beans has officially moved into a new building just around the corner from its original location.
The new space is a light-filled warehouse that features a larger cafe, a dedicated retail store, a coffee quality and training room and a roaster.After you've ordered your coffee, you can take a peek through the large glass windows from within the cafe to catch a glimpse of the roasting process.
Those familiar with Industry Beans' other stores in Syndey, Brisbane and Melbourne should feel right at home in the new location. The venue is the brand's fourth project with Melbourne architects March Studio, who have also designed spaces like the Jackalope Pavilion.
The interior is meant to reflect the journey of the brand over the past ten years and celebrate its triumphant return to Fitzroy. Think industrial features, steel mesh, recycled timber tabletops paired with sleek white booths and a lot of plants.
The menu includes Industry Bean staples like smashed avocado on toast as well as new additions like the very Instagrammable porcini nest. Perhaps most importantly, you can also grab a cup of Industry Beans' signature coffee with options like espresso, filter or even cold-brew.
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A café housed in a heritage-listed former powerhouse with exposed brick walls and enormous street-art murals around the corner. Queues out the door, an almost-alarming number of plants, riffs on avo toast and other highly ‘grammable dishes. A focus on quality coffee so meticulous that it necessitates a separate coffee menu (including a barista’s breakfast tasting board of Five Senses coffee and several pour-over and batch brew options). Things don’t get much more Melbourne than everything about Higher Ground café. However, by virtue of an experienced team, consistently top-quality food and drink, excellent service, high energy and an unmatched atmosphere, Higher Ground personifies our city in the best way possible.
The darling of the Darling Group (Kettle Black, Top Paddock, the Terrace), Higher Ground sits tall (its six connected levels form a maze of tiered spaces) and pretty on Little Bourke Street. Since opening its doors six years ago, it’s become a steady favourite of the competitive café scene, consistently raising the bar higher: literally and metaphorically.
It’s the first time in quite some time that we are excited about several options on a café menu. We debate over whether we should order the ’nduja on toast with salsa verde, pickled onions and a fried egg or the blue swimmer crab benedict, with native herbs and optional caviar. However, our choice of the stracciatella toast proves to be the best decision of the day. Two large slabs of sourdough are slathered g
If you’re lucky enough to work at the top end of the city, Babajan’s second outpost can be your go-to lunch destination. It's tucked away in a nondescript row of shops with the faintly perceptible gold letters engraved on the window the only indication that it’s Babajan, but the line out the door will nonetheless alert you to the plethora of pastries, sandwiches and desserts that await within.
Like its original shop in Carlton North – widely regarded as one of the more interesting and inventive brunch places in the inner north – which transitioned permanently into a takeaway-only venue during successive lockdowns, there is no space for dining in at Babajan’s Little Collins branch. There are a select few chairs outside but on a nice day, you’d be better off embarking on the one-minute walk towards the triangle of greenery between Spring Street and Macarthur Street and enjoying your food and Proud Mary coffee while soaking up some rays.
Uniformly organised floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with Babajan’s retail products line the tiny store. Nothing in the glass cabinets except desserts is labelled, but the person behind the counter on our visit is only too happy to reel off the meticulously assembled daily rotating sandwiches, boreks and salads – with spices such as sumac, cardamom and baharat jumping out in his speedy introductions. Freshly baked rings of simit – sesame-crusted Turkish bread – sit on the counter too.
The two sandwiches on the day we visit are Babajan Little
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Despite visiting on a wintery day with torrential downpour, Florian is packed to the rafters. Crowds spill out of its tiny entrance on both sides, customers waiting for a table are indistinguishable from locals ordering takeaway coffee, outdoor tables are shunted towards the shelter of the footpath. Making headlines in recent weeks for the consternation it’s attracted from nearby residents doesn’t seem to have affected trade for Florian in the slightest, only made it more popular if anything. Everyone is respectful and careful to steer clear from crowding the adjacent Rathdowne Street Café and nearby houses.
One only has to look at Florian’s immediate surroundings to understand its immense appeal. Occupying the space formerly inhabited by similarly popular café Small Victories, Florian’s Allpress beans and expertly curated, European-inspired menu sets it apart from the nearby mom-and-pop cafes with menus scarcely larger than a few select pastries and stock standard favourites. Fenton, Tanaka’s new fresh produce-forward venture, is perhaps the most similar operation in the vicinity but it lies a kilometre away.
Which is not to say Florian is a slick, soulless venture. Waitstaff are warm, friendly and accommodating despite having to deal with rain-soaked outdoor tables and customers jostling for space – testament to the community-minded, local favourite childhood friends Dom Gattermayr and Rose Richards have built in the beautiful building they inherited from hospitality ventur
For those who know Manchester Press – a classic Melbourne institution that couldn't get any more 'Melbourne' if it tried (I mean, it's a bagel joint dropped into a warehouse in a gritty laneway for goodness sake) – they know that, despite the generous number of options on the menu, a bagel is where it's at.
Here, you can take your choice from plain, poppyseed, rye and sesame (or GF), topped with an array of loosely New Yorker-style options. NY Lox is an obvious choice, and its salty, creamy smoked salmon is thankfully not of the disturbingly bright orange, intensely fishy, store-bought persuasion, as is so often the case.
The Melbourne standard Avo Smash isn't breaking records for the city's most inventive topping (a cherry tomato medley, feta and pumpkin seeds) but it's suitably tasty – especially when topped with a perfectly poached egg. It's not the shining star on the bagel menu, however.
That title belongs to the Philly Steak, which combines thinly sliced, briney roast beef with lashings of chipotle, mayo and cheesy goodness that meld together and ooze over the sides – rendering your plate a delicious receptacle for a makeshift dipping sauce. It's not going to win any awards for presentation, but damn, it's delicious. I just wish it came with more pickles.
They take their coffee seriously here – and, for a city that thrives on its obsession with finding the best cup in town, this is a pretty solid option. Manchester Press stock local sustainable coffee brand Ona, a spec
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Think of shiny things. Diamonds. Kim Kardashian’s hair. Bibelot is shinier.
This high-tea salon from the Chez Dre crew (housed in what was formerly Chez Dre's overspill space) is so sleek, so modern and glittery, it’s like a spaceship with cake. We wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if it took off for planet Pastry while we were inside it.
Bibelot is an ambitious proposition: espresso bar, gelateria, pâtisserie, café, chocolate shop and 'library'. You can spy on the chocolatier tempering away in the chocolate room, sit on the stylish-but-stark seats at the front and spy on Coventry Street, or occupy the emerald-green sofa in the café space at the back. If you’re seeking inspiration, peruse the sugary tomes – Leiths Baking Bible, Larousse on Pastry, La Maison du Chocolat and so on.
There’s a glass-and-gold chest of drawers in the centre, stocked with Bibelot’s bags of grown-up lollies at grown-up prices: think cocoa pop and orange-infused white chocolate; caramelised puff corn with milk chocolate and pink salt; chocolate nougat and so on. One wall is lined with more fancy tooth-rotters: jars of honey in which whole macadamias lurk mysteriously; yellow raisins coated with freeze-dried raspberries and white chocolate; glossy passionfruit caramels…
Cakes come courtesy of flour-power owner Andrea (‘Dre’) Reiss, a superstar chef pâtissier, whose CV includes Jacques Reymond’s Arintji in Fed Square (R.I.P.) and Michelin-starred swank-fests in both London (the Yauatcha/Hakkasan group) and
In Marios, as in Mario times two, not Mario’s – Marios’, if anything – we have a lot to be grateful for. In 1986, when Fitzroy was but a dusty café nullius ruled by barbarous feudal lords and hangry megafauna (presumably), Marios’ opening as the first cafe on Brunswick Street would usher in not only the dawn of the suburb’s vibrant café culture but as goes the fable, the dawn of ‘all-day breakfast’ in a city now defined by it.
The humble trat whose legacy alone guarantees a packed house every night is now a bona fide beacon of the inner north. People love Marios.
We know the story: two Marios bet it all on affordable-but-tableclothed Italian fare and won big. The lasagne’s reputation precedes it. The waitstaff wear waistcoats. Our Kylie visited once. Some other guy’s worked the pass since day dot and is getting on a bit.
Bedrock, institution, just like mama used to make, etc.
Those who have grown up with Marios generally know what they’re setting out to achieve on any given visit. It’s usually pasta-related, and it’s often as simple as a stonking Bolognese and a post-work chinwag. Perhaps the puttanesca and a little solo social media. A celebratory T-Bone if you’ve been good. Less commonly, a three-course journey through the specials board and beyond, but hey, someone’s gotta do it.
It’s a heaving Wednesday night on our first visit – too packed to sit in the living room-cum-bordello front dining area. We’re ushered past the buzz and the people watching – a long-haired ma
Anyone with even the slightest interest in Melbourne’s food and hospitality scene has been talking about Reine and La Rue as of late. The highly ambitious project from Nomad Group has transformed Melbourne’s hallowed old Stock Exchange building into a European-inspired restaurant as ritzy as it is regal, with a speakeasy bar (the Rue part) accessible through an adjoining courtyard. It’s the first time the space has been open to the public in more than 20 years and the obsession is real. But big talk doesn’t always lead to a big walk, and so I was determined to discover if the new dining venture is as good as others say. Spoiler alert: it’s even better.
The neo-gothic structure on Collins Street isn’t difficult to imagine gilded in Nomad’s brand of splendour, and even prior to its metamorphosis the late 1800s space was a vision to behold. Picture high vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows and limestone walls. The restoration of the main dining area, known as the 'Cathedral Room', now sees new marble bar tops, brass detailing and caramel leather banquets installed in the space, all thanks to a highly adept team of designers and ateliers. It’s nothing short of majestic.
On a Friday afternoon, cruisy tunes that sound like they came straight from a So Frenchy So Chic playlist float up towards the cavernous arches and I take my place by the oyster bar. The service staff, while suitably presented in swish fine dining uniforms, are the definition of organised chaos. One takes my co
Good, honest food. Sometimes, it’s the only thing you crave. Like the type of meal your grandmother prepared for you when you were a child. Or freshly rolled pierogi. Having already tasted the latter from the famous Melbourne market stall Pierogi Pierogi, this is exactly the type of experience I anticipated at a popular new Brunswick East restaurant that’s run by the same owners: soul-warming, humble and tasty. The couple at the helm, Guy Daley and Dominika Sikorska, are known for bringing some of the most authentic Polish cuisine to Melbourne (a Polish friend of mine can attest to this) and the hype had risen to a point where I was hearing about Eat Pierogi Make Love on the daily.
So my partner and I wander in on a Thursday evening without a booking – it’s walk-in only – and are lucky to secure two stools at the bar. The place is heaving. And what a golden vibe. Dusky natural light streams through the windows to cast a warm glow throughout the high-ceilinged space. One of the things I love most about Eastern European food is the smell: that cosy, vegetal aroma that makes one think of rainy days in, a pot of soup bubbling away on the stove. Yes, that permeates the air here, but other sensory touches add to the warmth, too: a nostalgic 2010s indie music playlist, colourful paintings from Polish artists splashed across the walls and a cheeky-looking cactus by the door. You can nestle in a booth or even sit outside in a sunny courtyard, but we’re glad to be at the bar with fron
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To question Gimlet’s beauty is like pondering out loud whether the sky is blue. One foot through the door into the Trader House team’s almighty fine diner and you’re swept into an era of astonishingly impressive 1920s glamour. The handsome, plush curved booths invite you to settle in and share a bottle of Champers with a friend, uniformed staff skate around the floor with ease, and warm light dances off the grand chandeliers overhead. It’s undeniably fabulous, but also cosy at the same time – less ostentatious ‘razzle-dazzle’ and more hearth-y and heartwarming somehow, even in all its magnificence.
Tonight, my friend and I are seated at the perimeter of the amphitheatre-like dining room, affording us generous views of both the sparkling hubbub of Russell Street at dusk and the swish centrepiece bar down the steps. Every dish that hovers by only serves to build that feeling of wistful anticipation, for while Gimlet is precious to look at (and sit in), our senses are set firmly on the food.
Of course, a Gimlet cocktail is the first thing you should start off with at Gimlet. And there is no better take on that juicy gin and lime invention in Melbourne than the classic one you can drink here. Refreshing and expertly balanced with moscato and a touch of Geraldton wax, it’s pure sophistication in a glass. We also knock back a Punch, a playful concoction of Jamaican rum, pomegranate wine falernum, hibiscus tea and pomegranate yoghurt. It’s a sublime start to the evening.
One need
This is very much going to sound like a first-world problem, but sometimes you’re simply not in the mood for the laborious mental demands of high-brow degustation dining. Unlike hoeing into a bowl of spag bol at your mum’s house or sharing a pizza with friends, taking the time to critically ponder the creative life’s work of a chef can feel tense and serious. This is why after a 45-minute drive from Melbourne to Beaconsfield, I’m grateful to discover the famous O.My to be a surprisingly relaxing affair. It’s hushed with natural light, as comfortable as a reading room in a library, and boasts no ostentatious distractions or highfalutin tricks up its sleeve. Serenity, at last.
The space is coloured only by splashes of cheeky modern art (there’s a painting of a man inhaling wine so enthusiastically that it’s spilt all over his suit, for example), and the vibrant personality of my sommelier. We chat a little about the local farmers’ market happening nearby, and he playfully takes a look at the blurb of the book I’ve brought with me. The plan is to do the four-course seasonal menu with snacks, sourdough and drink pairings, a shorter experience than the seven-course experience also on offer, but nevertheless not to be rushed. He’s there as a guide to talk me through each dish and make sure I’m taken care of, but promises not to hover too much that I feel encroached. It’s a lovely, breezy way to do service, and I’m started off with a glass of crisp sub-alpine sparkling wine from Hol
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Located on the quieter end of the street, Lulu’s Char Koay Teow always manages to pull a crowd that rivals its neighbours – and though it’s inspired by the hawker stalls of Malaysia, there’s no hawking necessary here. Day or night, the small, bustling eatery is almost always packed to the brim, clear evidence that the food speaks for itself.
Their signature is – you guessed it – the char koay teow, which has been steadily gaining the restaurant cult status since they opened three years ago. It’s deeply flavoured but not too saucy and chock-full of ingredients. Choose from blood cockles or razor clams or (my personal favourite) duck eggs, which are folded into a base of thick, chewy rice noodles alongside prawns, Chinese sausage, pork lard, chives and chilli.
Unless you go for the $9 vegetarian version, which swaps the animal products for tofu and veg but manages to pack the same punch, even when packed up and reheated at home. It’s probably thanks to the special sauce, a secret recipe borrowed from the owner’s mother-in- law who used to run a popular CKT stall in Penang. In other words, this is probably the closest thing you’ll find in Melbourne, and that’s something to get excited about.
For the sake of doing one thing very, very well, you’d think Lulu’s might stick to the classics but they’ve been expanding their menu as of late. Thankfully, quantity has not sacrificed quality – options like the jawa mee, a soupy hokkien noodle dish topped with potatoes, tofu, crushed peanu
When you first step into the stylish airlock entrance at Stokehouse, the transportation to another world is immediate. Suspended in the liminal space, the door behind you closes and the noisy buzz of St Kilda’s busy streets fades to a calming hum. A journey begins.
Up the stairs, we head to the first floor where the magic awaits. The host is attentive and charming from the outset, offering to take our coats and guiding us to our seats before introducing the other service staff who’ll be taking care of us for the night. But while impressed, we’re not really surprised.
This is Stokehouse, after all, a bastion of traditional hospitality and serene comfort since the early 1990s. But I want to know – after all this time, does the food and drink still stack up to the restaurant’s lofty reputation? Let’s find out.
During the day, Stokehouse’s broad, floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the glistening beach, flooding the dining space with rays of sun. At night, however, it’s a moodier setting, with warm lamps and designer chandeliers elevating the interior decor – a theatre for food and sea under the moonlight.
On this chilly evening, the beach is roaring as loudly as the wind is howling, and my partner and I are feeling cosy and romantic by the window. The only word for it is cinematic. After placing our orders, we’re paid a visit by the sommelier. He’s got drink suggestions to pair with our menu choices if we’re interested – of course, we are. A dry Tasmanian brut and a bright Vene
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For weeks, it was the name we’d heard most on the lips of our food-obsessed friends: Alta Trattoria. What could be so extraordinary about yet another Italian joint in a city brimming with some of the best of them? We couldn’t yet know, but we weren’t about to wait a minute longer to find out. After all, pasta is good, but good pasta is everything – even when you’re privileged enough to have already tasted some of the silkiest, sauciest and slurp-worthiest in all the land.
Do your research though, and you’ll quickly discover that Alta Trattoria is not, in fact, just “another Italian joint”. The restaurant’s specialty is a little different, zeroing in on the northern Italian region of Piedmont, which is located at the foot of the Alps and home to some of the boot nation’s most prized culinary exports. In addition, the team behind Alta Trattoria includes Luke Drum (Carlton Wine Room), chef McKay Wilday (Victoria by Farmers Daughters), Carlo Grossi (Ombra, Grossi Florentino) and vino expert James Tait (King and Godfree). A formidable crew like this at the helm is nothing to sniff at – so off we trotted on a Friday night.
Tucked away off Brunswick Street, a tomato-red-painted restaurant quietly hums with good cheer and Italo-pop music. One dining area looks out onto the graffiti-decorated side street, the other’s nestled against an imposing bar. The friendly, bustling atmosphere belies a hidden thread of formality that ties the whole operation together with the finesse of a more
We’ve all had our fair share of unsatisfying tacos in life. An oily one here, with fish that’s not fresh. A dry one there, with paltry fillings. It’s with this sense of caution that we approach the neon-lit sign of CDMX Taqueria, a brand new taco joint that’s still in the process of cementing its reputation. But so far, word on the street has been promising.
Melbourne’s current offering of Tex-Mex fare, while undeniably a pleasure in its own dirty way, weighs heavily on the palate as rival chains try to outcompete each other on maximum flavour and calorie for dollar. And so in the last decade, the cry for true Mexican fare in Melbourne has echoed far and wide, with CDMX being the newest taqueria to respond. The same husband-and-wife team behind Seddon’s Superchido, Beatrice Nacor and Daniel Pineda have brought their artisanal taco recipes straight from the heart of Mexico City, or as the Mexicans call it: Ciudad de México (CDMX – hence the name). What started as a wildly successful pop-up in Melbourne Central now boasts a spacious sister taqueria in Brunswick East.
The latter is where I’m bringing my investigative appetite on a Saturday afternoon. The new shopfront boasts a floor-to-ceiling window affording an open view of Lygon Street’s more happening end. Inside, striking blue and white tiles stretch across the walls to the bar, well-stocked with a bohemian selection of mezcal and tequila. It’s a clean and modern space, with stools by the bar for lounging with a drink, plu
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As the Mexican wave swept Melbourne, Diana Hull couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Back in Mexico, the best tortillas are made with whole stoneground nixtamalised corn (dried corn that’s been treated with an alkali solution). But in Melbourne the only option was pre-soaked, dried and pre-ground corn flour (masa, which you can buy at Casa Iberica on Johnston Street if you want to make them at home). It’s not bad, but nothing like getting them hot and fresh from a dedicated tortilleria – which is what most Mexicans do, incidentally. So, Hull and business partner Gerardo Lopez went out on a limb, ordered up a few thousand bucks’ worth of tortilla-making equipment, and set up Melbourne’s first tortilleria using whole corn. Trust us – unless you’ve got an Aztec granny, these are the best tortillas you’re gonna lay your hands on in Melbourne.
The process starts with whole Australian corn maize that’s soaked and cooked overnight with calcium hydroxide and stone ground to make a thick dough. It’s fed into a machine that pats and flips until, like magic, soft yellow discs emerge. Between 2000 and 4500 are made per day and the intoxicating scent is like corn cake baking.
La Tortilleria does a small menu of Mexico City street food - the crowd favourite is tacos al Pastor. Free-range (Otway) pork is marinated in achiote, ancho and guajillo chillies and – wait for it – cola. Apparently it helps tenderise the meat. It’s threaded onto a vertical spit with a chunk of pineap
Flinders Lane houses a veritable who’s who of popular dining locations. Because of this, it could be considered inevitable that when Sydney’s Nomad – a high-flying, one-hatted restaurant – moved South it was destined to end up here. But as natural as this might seem, Nomad’s journey to Melbourne has been anything but easy. Importing a restaurant to a new city is already a mammoth task, chuck in a global pandemic with state border closures and your task is looking next to impossible. Thankfully, owners Al and Rebecca Yazbeck, along with executive Nomad chef Jacqui Challinor, aren't ones to shy away from a challenge. On the ground floor of the Adelphi Hotel, in the space formerly occupied by the iconic Ezard, the doors of Nomad Melbourne are finally open.
Adapting favourites from the Sydney menu with twists to highlight Victorian producers the menu draws inspirations from the Middle East and the Mediterranean. A dark staircase entranceway leads down to a warm, energetic space with a slightly subterranean vibe, that buffers from the hubbub outside, while at the same time suggesting you are in one of the most happening pockets of the city. Soft lighting, combined with the polished wooden floors, cool blue tones and generously spaced tables creates a cosy, cave-like dining area which builds a sense of anticipation for what is to come and the knowledge that you are in for an inspired dining experience.
The smell of toasty spices emanates from the metaphorical and physical heart of
Prepare to be charmed when you call +39 to make a reservation. No doubt you’ll hear a gorgeous Italian accent and shouts of ‘ciao!’ in the background. +39 is a valuable addition to Melbourne’s burgeoning pizza scene. It’s open for lunch and dinner daily and embraced by CBD workers as evidenced by the deafening noise on a Thursday night.
The long rectangular shaped restaurant has stark white walls, an exposed ceiling and a glass cabinet full of giant Italian cheeses and cured meats (vegetarians may need to avert their eyes). Although pasta dishes are available – Bolognese or cannelloni are on offer today – pizza is the darling here.
The swordfish pizza from the specials board is an odd combination that doesn’t quite hit the mark. Thin slices of milky white swordfish are laid on a base with fior di latte cheese, while a ‘salad’ of raw fennel, orange segments and pistachios is strewn on top. It deserves an A for originality but the ensemble is a little bland (particularly the fish) and could do with a good salting.
We go for the tartufata: truffle paste, topped with sliced mushrooms, finished with parmesan cheese and a little bundle of rocket in the centre. The bases at +39 are outstanding. They’re thin, chewy, beautifully puffed up round the edges with a wonderful buttery flavour. A side of radicchio salad is also lovely: it’s fresh, sweet with a truffle honey dressing.
There are two kinds of people in Melbourne, those who have heard of Aangan, and those who have not. For the uninitiated, Aangan is the 15-year-old, well-oiled machine serving multiregional Indian cuisine to the local community and anyone determined enough to travel for their near-flawless food. Footscray may be known as one of Melbourne’s main Vietnamese hubs, but if you keep heading west, you’ll find yourself in Little India.
There’s a little bit of an intelligence test getting into Aangan, the restaurant is glass-fronted with doorways blocked off by inside seating. The trick is to keep walking until you hit a narrow corridor to the side of the building that eventually leads to an entrance, a hectic takeaway area, and if you keep walking, a huge, tented courtyard packed with even more diners. It may be overwhelming on your first visit because Aangan is the kind of venue where they’re full from the minute they open until the minute they close, but the staff are so used to the controlled chaos that they never miss a beat. Needless to say, unless you like waiting for a table, you’d be smart to book ahead otherwise you’ll be left in food-purgatory, staring at large tables of Indian families sharing tandoori platters, curries, naans and biryanis; couples on first dates dipping into butter chicken; or groups of friends tucking into chaat.
The menu spans India, and even a little beyond with chaat and biryani from the north, dosa, idli and sambhar from the south, plus a range of fri
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When young Abla Amad came to Melbourne in 1954 she brought the love of cooking developed while watching her mother in their north Lebanese village. Later, she sharpened her culinary skills with the Lebanese women who would meet in each other’s kitchens to exchange recipes. Abla loved feeding people so much that meal-making for her family turned into hosting Sunday feasts for the community – and then came the restaurant.
Abla’s opened in 1979 in the same location it’s in today and upon entry you experience a pleasant time warp. The décor – white tablecloths, simple chairs and extravagantly framed paintings – hasn’t changed much since those early days, and the hospitality is instant: a warm welcome with olives and pita crisps already on your table.
This is one of those places where it's worth considering the banquet. In the first event, charry baba ghanoush jostles for attention with creamy yet firm labne and chunky hummus. Next up, ladies’ fingers are so fine and buttery that the filo pastry barely contains the pine nuts and minced lamb spiked with cumin, allspice and sumac – you won’t be able to stop licking your fingers. The baked chicken wings in garlic and lemon are fall-off-the-bone tender, and in these days of 1,001 spices, such a simple dish is refreshing.
Abla does two versions of the Middle East’s beloved stuffed vegetables: one with silverbeet, the other with cabbage. Don’t leave without trying the former (it's not part of the banquet but consider tacking it on), whi
Acland Street Cantina is the Melbourne Pub Group’s new house of Mexican snacks, and no, it's not 'authentically Mexican'. But that’s OK. Chef Paul Wilson does great Cal-Mex. It’s the European/South American riff on the cuisine that unlike sour-creamy Tex-Mex, sees accents of radishes, figs and parsley join the often meaty taco party.
Dinner may start with chilled pumpkin 'guacamole', punching fresh with tomato salsa and festooned with pepitas and crumbled white queso fresco cheese. Scoop it up with plantain crisps, made from that starchy banana relative. It’s tasty, vibrant stuff that steers away from the oversubscribed norms, served up in another of Julian Gerner's great spaces. There’s a front café/late-night diner (3am!) decorated with so many fluoro pink lights and lolly stools it looks like Katy Perry. We actually prefer it out here to the restaurant, which aside from a compulsory Day of the Dead mosaic is just as dark and thumping with bass as when it was Mink nightclub.
Which makes it all the more disappointing that the service is letting them down. On our visit, the lack of knowledge of dishes and drinks is endemic, and though most staff are friendly enough, there’s chaos on the floor. But, forewarned is forearmed and if you can get past the glitches, there’s good food to be had here.
This is Wilson’s most Mexican offering to date (thanks to him having now actually been to Mexico). Tortillas are great. Thick and a little rough like a corn pancake for loading with gril
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You never think of Fitzroy as needing more brunch, but when you consider the quality of hangover the suburb can provide there isn’t nearly enough. Who can walk more than a block or queue for eggs after a night at the Evelyn, the Everleigh or both? Not us. And clearly not the folks who live near Mark Tuckey furniture. They’ve descended on Johnston Street’s latest bruncher like it’s the great white, macramé-filled hope.
They do a gold standard classic here. Corn fritters are like deep-fried kernel-studded cornbread, with grilled haloumi and hidden in a mixed lettuce hedge with fresh tomato salsa and poached eggs. The buckwheat pancake stack is as fat as a Victoria sponge and twice as nutritious: two inch-thick disks accessorised with poached quince and massive dollop of vanilla mascarpone.
The menu is basically a roll call of café foods we love: spongy crumpets from Dr Marty; pats of cultured Pepe Saya butter and pots of raspberry/rhubarb jam. It’s Little Bertha's chocolate praline cakes in the front counter, while behind them stands barista Cam Greene, who’s migrated just 100-metres down from where he was slinging cups at Doomsday. He’ll extract you a lip numbing shot from the good folks at Padre that’s equally sweet as a neat black shortie or a full fat flattie.
It's a double couple team making Addict run like it's on wheels. Greg and Brooke Brassil used to own a coffee roastery back in Shepparton. The floor team, lead by business partners Joe and Brooke Ventura, are alert as
Food isn't always just sustenance. Whether it's spaghetti on toast or gefilte fish, the taste of a dish can evoke powerful personal and cultural memories. A little of that power seems to be at work at the Afghan Gallery, which for 24 years has been winning over Brunswick Street diners with generous servings of deceptively simple-looking food. The care with which it's prepared creates a strong impression that this food means something to the people behind the scenes. The family-owned restaurant occupies two storeys of an older-style building, the ground floor a conventional à la carte establishment with rugs and posters for colour, and the first floor laid out like a traditional Afghan banqueting room. The 'tent room' is an excellent space for parties: dimly lit and scattered with cushions, it encourages lingering as guests slide ever further under the low tables. The menu contains some amusingly vague descriptions, like spinach with “different spices” and mungbeans served with “vegetable dish”. If you need to know what’s in there, the staff will be happy to help, but if specific ingredients aren’t an issue it’s best to just relax and trust that the food will be good. Highlights include a qorma slow-cooked with chunks of eggplant so tender they collapse at the sight of a fork; lightly spiced meat samosas with homemade yoghurt; and a smooth, delicately flavoured yellow dhal served with perfect long-grained basmati rice with hints of cumin and clove. The bar is basic, but BYO
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Have you ever tried to style your hair into a ‘messy bob’, or attempted to cook paella at home? As it turns out, looking effortless requires a lot of work. With Agostino, about four years’ worth has resulted in a restaurant that’s breezily confident from the outset, ready to elbow its way into Melbourne’s Italian canon. The place has barely opened, but the linen-clad staff are already gliding around buzzing rooms, pouring wines from a towering backlit cellar and swooping down plate after plate of sophisticated regional fare.
Agostino is the final, crowning jewel in the Valmorbida family’s epic complex of Italian drinking and dining, which also includes the revived King & Godfree Deli and rooftop spritz bar Johnny’s Green Room. But where the other two are more casual affairs, this upscale wine bar is here to make an impression. The space is a study in relaxed, discerning luxury, pale woods and dusty greens soothing as shiny terrazzo and marble bars adding a moneyed weight. Meanwhile, that glowing cellar holds a small town’s economy in triple digit European wines, sure to be given high rotation by the long lunchers and Carlton’s comfortable retirees. Smaller budgets are kept intact by the glass, with interest-piquing options like a buttery moschofilero from Greece and a deliciously unfussy red on tap – a tannin-light field blend of Italian varietals including lagrein and nero d’Avola that’s fat with dark fruits and yours for only $10.
The menu, meanwhile, is a clear-eyed explo
For weeks, it was the name we’d heard most on the lips of our food-obsessed friends: Alta Trattoria. What could be so extraordinary about yet another Italian joint in a city brimming with some of the best of them? We couldn’t yet know, but we weren’t about to wait a minute longer to find out. After all, pasta is good, but good pasta is everything – even when you’re privileged enough to have already tasted some of the silkiest, sauciest and slurp-worthiest in all the land.
Do your research though, and you’ll quickly discover that Alta Trattoria is not, in fact, just “another Italian joint”. The restaurant’s specialty is a little different, zeroing in on the northern Italian region of Piedmont, which is located at the foot of the Alps and home to some of the boot nation’s most prized culinary exports. In addition, the team behind Alta Trattoria includes Luke Drum (Carlton Wine Room), chef McKay Wilday (Victoria by Farmers Daughters), Carlo Grossi (Ombra, Grossi Florentino) and vino expert James Tait (King and Godfree). A formidable crew like this at the helm is nothing to sniff at – so off we trotted on a Friday night.
Tucked away off Brunswick Street, a tomato-red-painted restaurant quietly hums with good cheer and Italo-pop music. One dining area looks out onto the graffiti-decorated side street, the other’s nestled against an imposing bar. The friendly, bustling atmosphere belies a hidden thread of formality that ties the whole operation together with the finesse of a more
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Everyone has that one friend whose restaurant recommendations are to be trusted. They’re the type of friend who follows food blogs religiously, who knows their nduja from their natto, always the first on the ground when a new hot sandwich joint opens or, in Alt’s case, a sultry modern pasta restaurant. So when that type of friend in my life gave the Niagara Lane newcomer a big, fat, green tick, it soared to the top of my hit list in an instant.
What I discovered in my research was intriguing. Everything at Alt is made in-house, including the pasta, the bread, vinegars and more. The menu’s also interesting, not your standard showcase of traditional Italian ingredients. Mossy green ribbons of pappardelle come topped with shavings of abalone, and you’ll spot diverse ingredients like kumquat, romesco, dashi jelly and edamame also making unexpected appearances in several dishes. There’s clearly a flirtation with Japan going on here.
Perhaps most surprisingly, the Korean-born chef eschews added salt in his cooking, instead building his dishes from a savoury base of house-made chicken stock. Curiosity piqued, off to lunch I go, bringing along a carb-loving colleague. Alt’s slinky dimly lit lair offers a relaxing haven from the noise of the city. We settle in with a vino each, two skin-contact whites that pair politely with a plate of fresh pumpkin bread and mushroom butter brought to our table right away. The flavours are wild and robust, as satisfying as you’d expect.
My zippy Il
From the moment you book the full seasonal tasting experience on Amaru’s website, you know you’re in for an odyssey. It’s the restaurant’s most extravagant offering, after all – with five snacks, seven courses and petit fours, plus optional drink pairings. Skipping brekky isn’t a bad idea, but that’s not to say the food at Amaru will be dense or cumbersome – the progression of light to heavier dishes is carefully designed, a thoughtful pacing that allows you to take as long as you please in comfort.
Situated on a leafy boutique strip in Armadale amidst bridal shops and delis, the 34-seat venue is surprisingly low-key inside. Behind the sheer curtains concealing it from the outside world, you’re met with a starkly understated dining room accented with natural timber, earthy textiles, brushed grey walls and a statement vase of native flowers. The tables are widely spaced apart, offering a private sanctuary for languid, leisurely dining – which you’ll certainly need to fully immerse yourself in every bite that comes your way. Despite being a fine diner, there’s a mostly relaxed feel to Amaru, only interrupted when you sense a brief rush or moment of tension in the kitchen.
Curious about the housemade and fermented drinks that feature in the non-alcoholic program, I’ve opted to go booze-free today. The waiter encourages a sly glance at the wine list, and I sneak in a glass of sprightly cider from Normandy as an aperitif. It’s with equal parts trepidation and excitement that I’ve
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Behold, our eat-and-destroy list – a guide to everywhere you should be eating in Melbourne, from cheap eats to fine dining (with a few old faves thrown in for good measure). Bon appétit!
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