Try yours sandwiching rich, juicy anchovy-mayo-soaked-brisket with chilli and gherkins. OK, so it’s a $13 sandwich, but you could easily split it between two – especially if you share a quinoa, roast green pepper, pearl barley, tomato and olive salad on the side.
Or maybe it’ll be a breakfast plate – perfect if you’re flighty or fickle, there’s enough on there to keep you interested. Here, a halved boiled egg sits on a pile of fried eggplant, tahini, a slice of lemon and zhoug (a spicy green relish that’s almost like an Israeli version of salsa verde) on toast.
Make sure to try their house-made sodas (or, as they refer to them on the blackboard, “dranks – hells yeah!”). Order carafes of ‘Lebonade’ and plain mineral water, or our favourite, the pink peach – if only we could add gin. Coffee, as you’d expect with Geshos involved, is reliably ace.
Sweet treats run to Persian love cakes, croissants and a very attractive-looking crostata, but you’ll find us precariously balancing a custard tart on our laps. The fine pastry cups a thin layer of fig paste topped with creamy custard and a generous sprinkling of cinnamon on top.
Why are we precariously balancing anything and not sitting at a table like grownups? So glad you asked. Inside, it’s a matter of getting one of the few stools by the window. The seats, by the by, literally swing out like Depression-era playground equipment – approach these with caution, or go arse over tit like we almost did.
Shelves run all the way up to the ceiling, lined with pickles and tins, while big sacks of flour and grain are stacked under the benches. Hanging plants and deco-style glass lightshades give the whole place a sort of mod-Brit feel. It’s very comforting. Outside, there are a few big tables. Everyone else perches on the old railway sleepers protecting the trees planted in the public courtyard just outside the café.
Whether you’re sitting, standing, perching or gliding, you’ll want to get in quick – Brickfields is hot property. And there are epic queues to prove it.