So Marrickville gets another cafe. No, it isn’t on any of the main drags, and no, it isn’t garbed with op-shop oddities, mis-matched crockery and souvenir teaspoons. Yes, it does serve very decent White Horse coffee, from The Shire I believe. And yes, the digs have become a bit of a magnet for the weekend hipsters. Tats, rolled-up chino’s and Ned Kelly beards.
Twice I dropped by this freshly buzzing corner caff; one quiet weekday morning for a gutsy macchiato ($3.5) and stupendous flourless orange cake ($3) and another weekend morning with the other half. The place was pumping. Pumping with locals; many of which looked like they stepped from the pages of Frankie magazine, just not as photoshopped.
Food is what we’re here for, not to look effortlessly hip. 12-hour pork sandwich ($11.9) with rocket, hazelnuts (the menu said they were there, but they weren’t), pickled & spiced pear and the aforementioned swine. A little more seasoning on the meat made it a winner. Bugger the freshly squeezed juices, a concoction the other half was sipping on to my right, but a big hello to a salted caramel shake ($5.9). Not as salty and sickly sweet as one I remember having at Reuben Hills last year; which came with much gratitude.
A bunch of other sandwiches lead the lunch menu, all constructed with fabulous miche bread (Sonoma?), plus a soup, salads and pasta. There is of course breakfast; where many of the choices step away from the expected.
Another plate of food was this. Tagliatelle, duck ragù, pumpkin, crisp sage & hazelnuts*($15.9) Sounds fab, had we received it. And I only realise this as I write about it a day later. Instead the ragù morphed into a combination of tagliatelle and spaghetti, Neapolitan sauce plus meatballs studded with fennel seeds. Both of us questioned whether it could have been duck, but my tongue thinks it was not. The menu was right about the tagliatelle, but the rest got forgotten with our initial order. Still, the pasta with mystery meatballs was ok.
* The chef has since informed me of the menu typo, post publishing this review. So I’m guessing the waitress wasn’t informed, or simply forgot to pass it on to us when we ordered the ragù.