Melbourne Cafe Reviews

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.

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.