Melbourne Cafe Reviews

Food Wine Friends
2/6 Ireland St
Bright

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.

Lighthouse Stables and Tea Rooms
7 Federal St
Aireys Inlet
Ph (03) 5289 6830

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.

Laneway 73
73 Great Ocean Rd
Anglesea
Ph (03) 5263 3113

In a little space wedged between two shops and covered over in transparent plastic sheeting, is to be found Laneway 73. It’s a most inviting place to be seduced into on a lovely afternoon in early autumn. The Rasilia coffee machine fronts the establishment and seems to be doing a quiet but regular trade in takeaways. Three tables and a bench down the alley and a few tables out on the street. Amazingly, for a seaside caf, The Age is available for perusal, along with other papers and mags on a bench. I settle in for a long lazy read, my bus not due for well over an hour.

A voice from the street—’Takeaway latte thank-you my good man, and could you make that a little bit hotter than the norm?’ Aha, puzzle solved. My l.b. was one of those tepid jobs that I’d encountered a few times in Bendigo recently, and I was beginning to wonder whether a few proprietors were following American style, fearing lawsuits from burnt-lipped customers. Coffee is Gravity and the only goodies are small (very small) over-priced biscuits—so small they should be coffee-accompaniments, not sold. But the ambience is wonderful, and secreting myself here, paper in hand, coffee at elbow and with the thought of a soon-to-be bus ride along The Great Ocean Road, is a delight I am quite happy to share with the gods. And the shade of Kierkegaard.

Spoons Cafe
42 Sackville St
Port Fairy
Ph (03) 5568 3452

A brief note. We’d dined here the night before (very good) and now I pop in for a coffee. Intimate space. Two lemon easy chairs. Papers. My l.b. is perfect—half fill, rich crema and a small jug of hot water if I wish to alter the strength. A perfect shortbread on a dark green plate. This place is run by young people with vigor and enthusiasm. Highly recommended.

Bella Claire Gourmet House
28 Bank St
Port Fairy
Ph (03) 55681610

Large square date scones arrive on square white plates with two big triangles of butter in a small round jar. I ask for my strong l.b. and the girl says, ‘double shot?’ She asks the amount of water I want. Two-thirds fill I say. When the coffee lands it’s good. This place does lunches and sells gourmet goodies of all descriptions—biscuits, condiments, cheeses, jams—as well as Timboon icecream. A few tables out on the street, some inside the shop and a scattering out to the courtyard in the rear. I like it out here in a narrow breezeway with a rough scribbled wall on one side and a solid bluestone on the other. To the north I lift my gaze and see big columns swell in the sky. Two unseen persons recount tales of their childhood. Things aren’t cheap here in Port Fairy, but who cares? The service is amiable, time is ample, it’s early Feb 09 and kids and teachers now back in their shackles.

The Epicurean Delicatessen
79 Mitchell St
Bendigo
Ph (03) 5443 2699

Earlier in the morning I’d peered through the windows of this establishment and noticed a distinguished looking man of mature years at work on the coffee machine. After a succession of lukewarm efforts at other places, would my luck turn when I came back in the afternoon?

Why is it that invariably in country Victoria, the province of coffee-making is anybody’s job—kids, girls—with all the attendant horrors of general disinterest, lack of style, overfull cups, and dirty machines? But when I front in, it’s a girl at the machine. My l.b. is hot enough, but no crema and a flat texture.

At least my small humingbird cake is fine. Small selection of tarts, pastries, cakes and biscuits. Large selection of Italian meats and cheeses. Vivaldi and guitar music on the CD.

Strong plastic French-style chairs. A few tables and chairs outside on the pavement. There’s a courtyard at the rear, with four or five small olive trees in large pots. Coffee machines for sale. A warm wall of Tuscan red, large gilt-frame mirror. Photos of Paris & Venice in black and white.

No prices displayed—a worry. This is one of those places where you cop the glance on entering. There’s an air of aloofness and complacency here that disquiets me.

Dench Bakers
109 Scotchmer St
North Fitzroy
Ph 9486 3554

I’ve lobbed here with two companions, so it’s past the wall and into the kitchen and a seat for three at a bench of polished and painted wood in colours of red, blue white and yellow.

It’s early afternoon at this clearly popular place and many products have sold out—no escargots, fruit buns or croissants. So I settle for a small citrus tart of exquisite quality—rich, melting, syrupy. My l.b. is excellent.

Staff are polite, intelligent, courteous. Our glasses of water are filled as required. No fuss. There’s plenty of staff moving about the place. Music is soft.

Cooked breakfasts include poached/fried eggs on organic sourdough, cinnamon french toast and parsley, or scrambled eggs on brioche with oven roasted tomato. Patrons in for lunch are referred to the specials board—chef’s salad, tart of the day, egg and bacon pie with salad. There’s even take-home meals including dips and soups.

It strikes me that the ready, natural filling of the glasses is a sign: stay here, you don’t need to buy more, we like your company …

I’m putting Derrida aside for the moment and reading Carver. Beat this for an opener: ‘My marriage had just fallen apart. I couldn’t find a job. I had another girl. But she wasn’t in town. So I was at a bar …’

I ask the waitress if she’s heard of Raymond Carver. She hasn’t. I write Carver’s name on a slip of paper and make to give it to the waitress when we leave. But she’s on the ball—she shows me ‘Raymond Carver’ written on a serviette.

Vines Cafe & Bar
74 Barkly St
Ararat

Ph (03) 53521744
(Closed Wednesdays)

From The Age Good Food Guide 2007, ‘If only every Victorian town had an all purpose eatery and quaffery like this. Vines has the informal atmosphere of a great little breakfast spot but also feels special if you settle in for a serious evening meal.’

Initial feelings are rather less assuring. An interior door is unhinged and cranks open with difficulty. Banquettes are turned up at the edges. The place seems dusty.

But wait. The food is good and well-priced. Mine is a spanocopita for $12 with excellent salad. Delectable cakes. My standard l.b. has no crema in an over-the-limit fill.

There are two sections. The front, facing Barkly St. Those French cane chairs. Seems this place for mums and kids. Inside—tables and banquettes. Soft ochre walls and ceilings. And here’s the real treasure—perfect space. Tables not too close, not too far away. Never, in a cafe, have I seen before such perfection in this respect. I occupy a corner. I face across to the coffee machine. In another corner, ranks of wine.

Water at room temperature (a plus). Thick napkins. There’s a chalked sign that says, ‘All children running loose and unattended will be towed away and stored at the owner’s expense’. I fail to see any unattended children.

I’m here on the day after Obama’s inauguration. Auspicious. I feel expansive, relaxed, lazy. I grow into this place. It is good, despite the coffee. Service is well-paced. Music is very soft or non-exisitent. I have an hour before I return to the station and board the bus that will whisk me west. I plan that hour here.

Tin Pot Cafe
248 St Georges Rd
North Fitzroy
Ph 9481 5312

Your country reviewer finds herself caught in Melbourne some time between Xmas and New Year. She feels justified then, in penning a review in this august metropolis, turned as it is into a delightful country town for the holiday period. (A bit like Paris in August, one might say.) The mobs are dispersed to Rosebud, Portsea and Lorne, and cars are fewer. The wise are those who stay put. This is where the holiday is. Overwhelming choice becomes reasonable choice.

Window at Tin Pot

I’m in Tin Pit North Fitzroy, reached from the east-west walking/bike track from Nicholson St. It’s December 28, a warm and breezy Sunday arvo. The red walls, the right temperature, the sweeping curlicues on the pressed-metal ceiling, the metalrimmed laminex tables, the small groups, the couples, the lone readers and writers. What more is needed? I’m here for an l.b. and a small choc yo-yo. The long black is perfect—Genovese coffee, correct fill, correct crema, right heat, all productive of the perfect linger. A laid-back beat flows on the air. Trams trundle to and fro along St. Georges Rd, and in my view, any caf that has the luxury of trams is worth a visit. Piedemontes Supermarket is across the road, past two green and leafy oaks in the little square.

Prices are reasonable and promise value—soups, baguettes, pancakes and breakfast until 4 pm.

The people are leaving and so must I. Over the road at the pub, the pace too, seems slow. People sit outside in comfy chairs. Where to go? What to do? Nowhere and nothing are the answers.

Annie’s Provedore
Shop 2, 50 Hitchcock Avenue
Barwon Heads VIC 3227
Ph (03) 5254 3233

$15.50 for a small lime tart, a commercial biscuit, an Earl Grey tea and a long black, may seem an excessive fee for a morning’s session in a coffee house. But remember folks, this is a Tourist Town, and the store has that expensive feel. Don’t complain.

My l.b. lacks crema and is a tad off correct serving temperature. I feel sorry for the lone black-clad worker though; she is anxious and harassed. Her co-worker has failed to front. On a grey overcast morning it’s not a bad place to be and seems to get the vote from the mixed bag of locals, business types, mothers and retirees. Talk is muted, cutlery tinkles. There was music but now there is — thankfully — none. (I do think we’re reaching the point where cafes will advertise themselves as NO MUSIC ZONES, inspired by John Cage who taught us the music of the ever-present sounds — the turning of a page, the whirr of the machine, a whispered word.)

Décor here is reminiscent of those overdressed interiors one finds in Australian Country Collections — a ladder, skirted to the ceiling and hung with swathes of garlic and dried flowers … A wire cage hooked up to the ceiling with wooden boxes once the repositories of French wine and Aussie cordial. A few black-topped tables, a ‘rustic’ wooden communal table, and a bench out on the pavement. All manner of things are sold in the shop — cheeses, Phillipa’s bread, biscuits, salamis. Lunch offerings include moussaka, lasagna and rolls of various fillings. A large black-framed mirror advertises specials — Potato and Chicken Pot Pies, Thai Chicken Curry, Rhubarb and Apple Tart.

At the entrance, two little bay trees sit in pots worshipped by a host of devoted lemons.