Ph 0438 301 566

Now folks this is truly a little off beat job. Traveling north up the Henty from Warracknabeal, and through the tiny hamlets of Brim and Beulah, one arrives at the Mallee Sunsets Gallery Cafe, converted white timber church located right on the highway.

There is an outdoor dunny and a few tables outside on the cooler southern side of the building. Here you will find Mallee shrubs and geraniums and quaint unobtrusive knickknacks too numerous for detail. Walk outside to the road wending west and gaze east. You’ll be amazed at the beautiful line of the land, the dottings of trees, and the vast empty sky. You may even be overcome by the remoteness and loneliness of this locale — a special pleasure and delight for those whose souls are solitary.

Inside there are 7 or 8 tables. Maxine’s photos on a wall and there’s also artworks and a teddy bear collection. In one corner, in a shrine-like arrangement, are photographs of all the weddings that have ever taken place with the structure’s once-sanctified portals. Maxine Mitchell is the proprietor and she is also a picture-framer. In addition she sells jewelery and framed cross-stitching. The cafe serves good coffee (make sure you notify Maxine that you are a connoisseur), and wonderful light fluffy scones with oodles of jam and cream. There are no cakes, but a variety of biscuits. She serves sandwiches and light lunches.

If you’re coming south down the highway from Mildura or Ouyen you will find this oasis some 10k south of Hopetoun.

Mallee Sunsets is open Wednesday to Sunday, 9.00–5.30 pm. Highly recommended.

A soft shaft of light falls upon the beige cover of the Larousse Encyclopedia of Wine lurking alongside bottles of Grampians Estate resting calmly in bookshelves. On this hot and humid February day the sight could confuse the senses into believing it a tranquil autumn afternoon. A slice of flourless orange cake served on a big square plate with a drizzle of lemon and a small pyramid of rather dubious cream. But the cake is good and so is my l.b. Eureka Coffee. Have not come across it before. There’s a few people here both for lunch and coffee. I catch the flash of trucks zooming by from beyond the leafy vine-covered verandah. I note that lunch serves seem generous and there’s the standard selection of cakes and bix. Across the road sits the fabled Royal Mail Hotel, also host to good coffee and cake. Local wines, available by the bottle and the glass, are reasonably priced. The magnificent ’09 Riesling from Bests is $25. Seven or eight tables and a small lounge area. Two fans whirr in the ceiling. The voices of others are soft and cutlery tinkles. I’m on my way to Port Fairy.

I compose myself in a chair on the wide pavement, one coffee-sipper amongst many. The coffee is fine, and there is a wide variety of cakes and meals available. Upstairs in Berkelouw Books there is a wine bar, a grand piano and 40,000 second-hand books. Downstairs, the regular bookshop. I peruse my copy of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. He’s as hard as flint, as direct as a straight hit for 6. There is also seating available inside the bookshop, but some of it those damn banquettes which I always find distancing and uncomfortable. Get rid of them.

This wedge of a corner cafe is a beauty. No bar or counter to separate owners, workers and patrons. The coffee is good and there’s a selection of cakes, toasts, etc. The place is open to both streets and only a few tables grace its space. You sit back with your book, paper, laptop or sketchbook, and listen to the roar of buses and traffic along King St. It’s all inner-Sydney cool. The cafe scene along King St shows considerable variation and a gem like this rewards the discerning eye. Worth many a return.

As well as coffee, this cute little operation purveys icecreams and wines. Black, white and grey decor; terrazo floor; black bentwood chairs. These people clearly think their food is good and want patrons to see it so. Interesting cakes — Italian — cannoli etc. My l.b. comes hot and is of fine flavour. On street seating. $14 for tea, coffee and two small cakes. Recommended.

Ph (02) 9660 3797

A mere two nights in the great city finds me in a bus on Broadway that steps me down at the start of Glebe Point Road. I must confess to a love of Sydney and its inner locale—Glebe, Rozelle, Balmain, Redfern, Potts Point, Paddington, Newtown. I am pulled, inevitably, to one or the other.

I wander until I reach the corner at Francis St, and the cafe that etches itself here. I enter, and find a nest of little wooden booths, some with single seats, solid parquet hardwood floor (yes I like hardwood floors and the gain of timber), soft off-red walls and wide windows out to Glebe Point Road and Francis St. Service is excellent—genuine friendly people—and efficient. Music comes at correct vol—never disturbing of talk but softly loud enough to listen to if in the mood. This is the type of place where it can be difficult (between the hours of 6 to 7.30) to find a table. Portions are large; coffee is good. Example: antipasto platter of hummus dips, olives, greens, feta, bread, tomato and dill pickle @ $13.50 is enough for two. This applies to most of the meals. I eat here two nights and on both I notice the presence of cops who come in to order takeaway coffee; must be a good sign.

The crowd could be loosely termed ‘university’. Books and notebooks are present. There are many sole patrons.

Opening hours? Seems to be open all day and most of the evening (i.e. eating hours). Highly recommended.

Ph (02) 6563 2287

This is the only other cafe option on the island apart from Thompson’s General Store which only serves coffee in paper cups. Humpty Mick’s doubles as a kind of flash restaurant for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It is also a bakery producing breads, pastries, cakes and slices of reasonable quality.

I gaze out through the glass doors past a screen of noble Norfolk Island pines and to the azure waters of the lagoon, to the magnificent mass of rock that is Mt. Gower, the tallest if the twin peaks on this dot of an isle on the South Pacific. I sit at a table set squarely on a hardwood floor. There are ten other customers on this late Sunday morning in May. My Lavazza long black is hot, maybe lacking in some punch, but acceptable by Melbourne standards.

White-painted walls, beige umbrellas, comfy cane chairs, chrome and stainless steel. Yep, my kind of place.

I have been here an hour and not one single car have I seen. A rack of bikes is out past the lone telephone booth. The Co-Op over the road is open. A three year old (with mother!) pushes a tiny tot in a pusher down the middle of the road.

Ph (02) 6563 2488

I relax in a good chair in this very pleasant establishment which performs functions of Information, History and Conservation as well as cafe (and restaurant at night). I am here at my usual midafternoon hour. Tables are partially filled. I notice that most chairs have names on their backs and am told that the names of the people mean they have donated the chairs. A nice touch, especially in a tourist precinct where the bland and the impersonal frequently blend supreme. There are are cakes, slices and other sweet offerings. Wary from past experience, I ask for a very hot coffee. The coffee when it comes is convincing enough in taste but lacks that heat, which disallows me the pleasure of contemplation over a cooling period. Nonetheless I commend this place for its ambiance and quality of its service.

Ph (03) 5750 1312

The blondwood bench faces the street, equipped with four stools. On the bench sit three pretty mauve/pink water bottles nesting in a small wicker basket. In addition to the usual cafe fare, wine and condiments are sold as well. The wall next my table is of warm orange, and tables too are blondwood. This place possesses a sleek but warm ambiance. Local produce is strongly in evidence—for example, the Milawa Taste Plate—”a selection of Milawa bread, toasted and served with butter and choice of spreads”.

Excellent Genovese coffee. Across the road, the golden letter of the sign on the Edelweiss Bakery glisten in the mid morning sun. It is early June and the ravishing colours of the autumn still glow on trees around town.

Yes—a tourist town par excellence, but the time I’m here it’s past peak. There’s a return to gentle country pace, and a trance of schoolkids who pass by in their blue uniforms gladdens my heart.

The cafe is confortably three-quarters full and talk and music is muted. I like the way the door squeaks.

This place is signposted from The Great Ocean Road and is easy to find. It is a delight, an oasis in a desert of overpriced and poor quality cafs along this famous strip of the Victoria Coast.

The cafe is a small white-painted weatherboard a few hundred metres from the elegant white pile of the Aireys Inlet lighthouse. Tables outside in the open air, a few under the verandah and two or three inside. Know a pet hate? A farrago of cakes for sale all heaped upon the one plate. I like my goodies on separate display. Too often, in this roam along the Victorian Surf Coast, have I been confronted by the former in my caf visits. My friend and I select a savoury scone from a range of biscuits, muffins and cakes, which when it comes is accompanied by a small dish of light orange chutney. My l.b. is of fine quality and the bill for two coffees and two cakes comes to $12—a very fair prince along a tourist strip where often you’ll pay 50% more for similar fare.

Milkshakes, spiders and sandwiches are also available. Wooden floorboards and fascinating old photos of ships and ancestral characters adorn the walls. Various touristy items—cards, booklets, toys, canned fish—are for purchase.

I listen to a group of six at another table. Two are English, bound for Port Campbell. One of the Aussie blokes says to him, ‘You can catch helicopter ride over the Twelve Apostles. If you hang by a rope it’s half-price.’ They leave and we too vanish, bound for our clifftop walk.