When the mere observation of a café from its car-park persuades the corners of your lips to twitch subconsciously into a crooked smile as though tugged by a poltergeist puppeteer, you know you’re in for a treat. As soon as I looked through the collage of theatre posters plastering the diner style windows at “a bite to eat” in Chifley, I couldn’t shake that involuntary smile.

Pulling a door clearly marked push in my haste to check out the décor and lunch menu, wonderment on every level continued to escalate as I took in the eclectically unique interior. If you haven’t been already, the most succinct way to convey the amazing design mish-mash is for you to envision the handsome but modest love child of a funky American style diner and the lounge-room from the Brady Bunch. Kitsch eat your heart out. How many places could honestly claim no two light fittings, cups, saucers, tables or sugar bowls are the same? I even spied a pre-loved pewter fondue set pretending to be a sugar bowl in all its retro glory.

Seeing the assortment of arm chairs and couches worn to extreme states of comfort which furniture can only develop after years of dedicated service, had me craving the need to sink back, hands defrosting with a warm cup of tea whilst enthusiastically perusing the lunch menu. The Irish Breakfast tea (my favourite, yet frustratingly rare blend) came piping hot in a cute and sturdy vintage silver pot, accompanied by milk in a tiny glass potion bottle I swear was taken from the Alice in Wonderland movie set. Afternoon bliss.

You’d be forgiven for assuming the menu carried a stereotype of grease, fries and cherry pie based on the general laid back atmosphere and scattering of HP sauce bottles, but happily that would be an incorrect assumption. The menu covers all tastes and dietary preferences with engaging pizazz, naming the dishes with historic and slightly cultish derivatives such as Casablanca, Elmer, Guru, Hemingway and Longhorn.

Feeling equally void of protein and omega 3, we eventually settled on the Djin (Poached chicken breast, tomato, herbs, green bean and zaatar salad with sesame dressing) and the Hemingway (Grilled fish of the day with a herb and potato cake, mixed leaves and a caper dressing).

The Djin had such a fresh and pleasantly sharp herb punch I could almost imagine the chicken running care free through fields abundant in parsley and coriander minutes before becoming my anticipated lunch. The texture was a wonderful balance of crunchy green beans, juicy tomato pieces and red onion slithers laced with soft poached chicken and, was deeply satisfying yet uncharacteristically light for such a large serve.

Putting my usual “don’t order fish if I can’t see an ocean” rule on hold, the Hemingway proved to be an absolute marvel. Well-seasoned in the consumption of seafood, I was thrilled at the chef’s utilisation of sweetly acidic caper and red onion salsa instead of the usual wedge of lemon to complete the fishy flavour infusion. After tasting this, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to revert to a simple lemon spritz again – coastal takeaways will have to up their game. The super soft, thick and satisfyingly warm potato cake was also a lovely starchy carbohydrate alternative to chips.

If you’re still hungry for more after enjoying the lunch menu, there is always the classic cake cabinet residing up near the brilliantly red coffee machine, showcasing such home-made goodies as chocolate fudge cake, caramel slice, wedges of carrot cake or slabs of chocolate cream cheese brownie… Heck, I’ll be making the trip again just for the home baked treats.

With live music, tapas and happy hour Sundays, enticing wine lists, scrumptious filling breakfasts, delightful lunches, dinner 3 nights a week (including a pizza night every Wednesday) couches to cuddle, tea-cups to cradle, wall art to inspire and a set of pin striped curtains I want to wear with John Lennon’s glasses – how could you possibly go past a bite to eat for, well, anything?