Dear Delicious

Not many cafes have their own crest. A door mat bearing the Dear Delicious insignia welcomes customers to this busy inner west corner spot, previously occupied by PS cafe. Located next to Dulwich Hill train and light rail stations, the charcoal-grey exterior is brightened by canary yellow-painted window frames under broad awnings.

Inside, the spacious, two-level room has polished concrete floors, white painted brick walls, comfy slat chairs, Edison-era coil light bulbs, copper bread baskets, a slate-topped counter and wooden crate stacks holding tins of tea and potted plants. It feels smart and up-to-date but, despite the odd cushion, leans towards the cold and loud in vibe. Perhaps objects will be added to the bare rear shelves to soak up reflected noise. Perhaps padded banquette seating could add a dash of cosy.

We park ourselves at a large round table at the back. It's almost like having our own room, with French doors off to one side, a powerhouse heater, the bathrooms behind us and raised flooring. The table is dominated by a massive pot palm which is striking but makes conversation difficult with anyone opposite.

We are soon lost in creamy Little Marionette flat whites and a piccolo which emerge speedily from the mighty La Marzocco machine. Service at Dear Delicious is top-notch - attentive, friendly and full of information when orders are delayed. Which is helpful as one dish arrives very late.

The more punctual arrivals include our table's favourite, the layered rhubarb and orange blossom pistachio labneh parfait, an ice-cream sundae-like creation in a tall glass. A richly textured marvel, its blood-red seams of subtly sweet rhubarb and sharp, creamy yoghurt cheese are studded with house-made granola and coconut crunch. The result inspires jealousy toward its owner.

A close second is the green hugger omelette, a fabulous folding of perfectly wobbly egg, melty provolone, avocado, baby spinach and salsa verde. Every mouthful is silky-soft eggy wonder.

The tardy dish is millet, linseed and buckwheat porridge which arrives after everyone has reached the end of their meals. This is a pity as it is the best porridge I have ever encountered in a cafe. Pre-soaked and slow-cooked, so the menu tells us, it is sweet and aromatic with citrus-soaked prunes and a soft crunch added by soaked nuts and sunflower seeds.

The toast is Brickfields sourdough (which you can also buy to take home), served with almond butter, jam and tahini or honey and ricotta. And the Croque Monsieur stars fat slabs of free-range ham with oozy horseradish-infused clotted cream and a fried egg.

This is the flavour of Dear Delicious. Dishes have been given great thought, with luscious and innovative extras and twists, setting them apart from much cafe fare. Banana bread, for example, comes with roasted macadamias, coconut crunch and berries. Large coffees and teas come in beautiful hand-thrown and painted ceramics.

Much is also house-made including the ricotta, milkshake syrups, granola, muffins, banana bread, jam and - come on summer - gelato. And it is hard to leave without buying a chocolate or cinnamon scroll or chocolate croissant, displayed like small, fat cushions in a glass-fronted cabinet.

Tubs of crayons and colouring books are supplied for children and an under 12s brekkie features a daily cold pressed juice and toast with jam, vegemite or a fried egg.

Having only been open for a few months, Dear Delicious is still finding its feet, but the dishes here are full of flair, make no mistake.

THE LOW-DOWN
The picks Rhubarb and orange blossom pistachio labneh parfait, green hugger omelette.
The coffee Little Marionette
The look Mod-industrial European
The service Friendly and eager to please