Eater

Health is all very well but I hate tanking up on wellness-guaranteed juice to the extent that I’m too full for coffee or actual food. That’s one reason I love ‘power shots’ at The Beatt: they’re packed with goodness but they’re small, so you can gulp them in one intense burst of vitality and vim. The immune shot with germ-busting ginger, orange and turmeric is so energising and spicy that looking at it made me feel like doing star jumps. Bonus: it was downed and doing me good without filling me up.

The bread mop test never lies. Look around at Stavros: pita is used to sponge up the last of the lemony calamari; crusty white bread cleans the dips dish of silky, smoky baba ghanoush; olive bread is dunked into the rich juices of braised goat. If the food wasn’t delicious, none of this would happen.

Pizza in Hampton? Easy. Takeaway Indian? Yep. Coffee? Can do. But smart little wine bar? Until Hampton Wine Co swept in to slake the suburb’s thirst, it was slim pickings for interesting tipples served with expertise and enthusiasm. Bayside’s rescue squad comprises three ex-Jacques Reymond soldiers: chef Jarrod Amos, sommelier Glenn Mill and manager Pierre Geoffroy, young guys with plenty of experience plus childhood history in the area. They’ve also got enough nous to keep their first business simple so the focus can be on making each element good.

There are some certainties at Caterina’s, a 20-year-old business lunch hub in a blessedly old-fashioned basement. You can count on owner Caterina Borsato being there, seeing all, reading the room, delivering each diner the experience they are there for. That might be a quick sanity break and bowl of pasta on a trying day, a deal-making lunch in a quiet corner shielded by a serious bottle of red, or a golden handshake shakedown that will likely extend to dinnertime.

There are good things to say about Tetsujin. I know it because my 10-year-old listed them, unprompted, a few days after we visited. “I love sushi trains,” she exclaimed. “They are so fun and exciting for the whole family and we should have one at home, not just for sushi, but for every meal.” Right, that’s the next birthday sorted.

Unless you want waves, Williamstown Beach has it all. Cricket players leap for one-handed catches over shell-flecked sand. Bikini babes roast. Seagulls steal chips. Snorkellers bob at the bluestone breakwater. Nonnas walk arm-in-arm on the promenade. Kids complain about sunscreen. Babies scream in beach tents. Couples keep the flame alive with a cooler bag of oysters and champagne. Container ships creep across the horizon. A showcase of Aussie domestic architecture overlooks the beach road: Victorian fancy work, fibro modesty, ethnic ostentation, gleaming riche. It’s a seaside village in a city of four million people and it’s really nice.

Eaten any snails lately? You should, and not just because they are an excellent excuse to marinate yourself in melted butter. Firm, salty sea snails (Tasmanian periwinkles) also offer a good reason to visit Copper Pot, the first restaurant from chef Ashley Davis. The menu says they’re served “how they should be” and I’d agree: bobbing in green-tinged shells, they’re meaty and unadorned, slow-cooked then lavishly loved up with garlicky butter. The snails are a signpost. Copper Pot bills itself as “a foodies’ roadtrip around Europe” and it visits some lesser lights: Croatia, Portugal and Germany as well as the power trio of France, Italy and Spain. The produce, by contrast, is a passionate, ethical exploration of Australia.

There may not be a scientific correlation between the pride with which a dish is served and the pleasure with which it’s consumed but I’m sure there’s an association. Everything at Anju, a casual Korean bar and restaurant, is delivered with a tangible, though often silent wish that it will satisfy. It would taste good anyway – the food is fresh, careful and punchy, with big flavours that marry well with alcohol – but there’s an amplification sparked by the fervent hope that everything will be truly enjoyed.