Go Greek. Go.

Whipped parsnip hides under the chargrilled swordfish, a foil to the a la greque dressed snowpea leaves

Sometimes I feel I’m too snippy. I seems I too easily find fault with restaurants. I’ll pick every hole I can in the food service and price. Even the design.
And then, sometimes, a restaurant comes along that changes everything.
It’ll be no secret to Tomato readers that I’m not always sure us punters get the same deal as restaurant critics. So a couple of months back when I read the rave reviews of the Greek restaurant Mini (Basement 141 Flinders La Melbourne +61 3 9650 88300) I decided not to bother.
Now I like Minis (I drive the Cooper S variety) and Greece. So-called undiscovered Islands are where I recharged while living in Brixton (that’s the hard Rasta end of London).
I love the balmy days hiding out, sometimes naked, in tiny hidden rocky coves spying local fisherman bashing octopus tender.
But after about two days of eating the usual clichés I’d have enough of the food (although not the retsina and Ouzo).
It is my theory that the twenty or so taverna’s that line the harbour of every Greek island share the same kitchens such is the homogeneity of their menus.
It took a last minute visit to Melbourne by a busy TV production exec for us to visit this joint. The doorway is not actually on Flinders Lane, but a laneway off a laneway, in the basement in Coopers Lane, just down the street and opposite the Japanese, Yu-u.
We are 15 minutes early but the cheerful staff have a circular table set for three. The room is surrounded by red banquets. The walls are stark white but accessorized with chequerboard like stained glass windows and spherical chrome lampshades.
I had wondered how the Greek genre would translate into contemporary design. Visitors to a local contemporary tapas bar Movida (where the best spot is at the bar, not at a table) often find the blond Scandinavian look jar with the idea of what they are eating.
At Mini design and food are at one.
And the food. The food.
I was the guy with the small brain, that’s the Almond baked lambs brains with saltsa domata ($16) to be precise. Equally good are the tender and fragrant, Kataifi wrapped king prawns with sweet spiced crushed corander ($17).
The Cumin roast whole flounder, fresh lime, mini marouli salad ($29) was simple but not plain, the herbs and lime setting off the flavours.
And the whipped parsnip hiding under the chargrilled swordfish was very creamy and smooth, a foil to the a la greque dressed snowpea leaves ($27).
Okay, I was helped along by the Greek wine. But something about the food, the excellent and friendly service and the atmosphere of the room made this place sing.
For me it was a spiritual epiphany. It renewed my faith in restaurants.
Why can’t all restaurants be this good?