Blackwall Cafe

Blackwall Cafe may be the hippest thing happening in the tiny suburb of Chiswick. This sleepy pocket of Sydney on an inner-west peninsula has views across the harbour to the city.

It feels as though we could have arrived here by time machine, dial set to 1973. There is hardly any traffic, and all around are apartment blocks built decades ago. Our destination is the new kid on a small and slightly peculiar-looking strip of shops. The series of arches soaring above the roofline adds to the feeling that we should have worn our flares.

Once we step inside the cafe, however, it's 2015 again, and the gentle, unpretentious vibe reflects the quiet surroundings. The beige-and-black fit-out, with rustic timber floors and bench seating along the walls, is modern; a retro flourish or two only makes it more so. The menu is fresh and interesting, in the manner of the here-and-now Sydney cafe.

First to arrive is the nicoise salad, ordered by my old comrade who is handy at a nicoise himself. He declares it ''absolutely spot on''. Rather than the traditional tuna, it comes with trout, smoked in-house on applewood and hickory, as well as olives, cherry tomatoes, poached egg, green beans and chunks of crispy-edged potato. The eight-year-old tucks into the soup of the week – a hearty, creamy pumpkin that is a little oily but a good pick given the chill outside.

The sourdough bread, from Infinity bakery, is also spot on, disappearing long before the soup. He gets an added vegetable injection with the juice of the day: beetroot, carrot, apple and ginger. He's also taken with the tropical fish tank right beside our table, lit to show off the coral and fish to gorgeous fluoro effect.

I love the cafe's feature wall, tiled in black (geddit?) with the cafe's name splashed across it in a bold and groovy font.

Two 20-somethings opened Blackwall in November last year after refurbishing a former fish-and-chip shop. Chef Arnold Williams has worked in the kitchens of Billy Kwong and Rockpool. The easy-mannered waitress and barista front of house is his wife, Ashleigh.

Like the suburb, this is a small cafe, with seating for 30 or so and an open kitchen. I can see Williams plating up my salad under smart pendant lights, bent to the task of making lots of ingredients look lovely. But first, the fried chicken in my schnitzel roll is beautifully tender, with a slab of melted cheddar and house-made salted chilli aioli to nix any health benefits from the tomato and lettuce.

The quinoa salad, by comparison, is thoroughly righteous, yet more delicious: it too comes with smoked trout, arranged among avocado, tomato, tea-soaked raisins and lashings of fresh parsley and mint. The vinaigrette of pomegranate seeds and molasses adds sweetness and crunch.

If I had room, I'd try the baby Dutch carrots with haloumi, honey, sesame and herbs. This place knows how to do a salad.

After deciding against dessert – the sweets are made elsewhere, anyway – it's time to step back into 1973. Blackwall Cafe certainly proves that food has come a long way since then.