Green Park

Let's get one thing straight: Green Park isn't a reinvention of St Ali North. It's the realisation of everything the former cafe always promised to be.

When Salvatore Malatesta first opened the Carlton North cafe he went on a publicity rampage equal only to that of a US electoral campaign. There were press releases issued daily along with ever-escalating promises: kitchen gardens! Dinners! Drinks! None of the latter transpired, in part because Malatesta's then business partner, Jesse Gerner (Bomba, Anada), pulled out of the partnership. But in a strange full-circle twist, Gerner and new allies recently bought the whole business and set about fixing those broken dreams. 

Some things haven't changed. Green Park is still a cafe. Kris Wood (the guy who started Clement Coffee Roasters) is pulling sweet, silky espressi. A Scotch egg is sunny-yolked and cocooned in a marrow-loose, black pudding jacket that's barely contained by a Panko crumb crust. It comes with a thick, maple syrup-slicked bacon steak, and countered with a handful of parsley, dill, capers and finely sliced shallots. There's also a fry up for vegos; cheese toasties for kids and beer for those with a morning thirst. 

The design guns at Eades and Bergman have softened and warmed the formerly boxy room with dark woods, bottle greens, golden mesh and sketches of trout. Sound panels have lowered the ceilings and muted the din, and a retractable drape has been installed to separate the wine bar on quiet weeknights.

Right around 3pm the gears start to shift that the real action begins. By day, the main dining room is the bright and airy heart of the venue, with all the action pivoting around the central coffee station. Having eaten at Green Park at both ends of the day, for me, it's all about the wine bar – a corner pocket of green leather booths with a long and glowing bar.  

This is where you want to be for the best service in the house. Behind the stick is James Madden, last seen at Kirk's Wine Bar, who is co-ordinating a list that effortlessly strikes a balance between the interesting and approachable. He's joined by can-shaker Carlos Arujo, who's making a G and T stained green with cucumber juice along with an ingeniously deconstructed Blood and Sand: a rye whisky and cherry herring number capped with a smoked orange foam. It's also here that the small plate menu best reflects chef Howard Stamp's fine tapas pedigree.

Stamp has come by way of Movida and more recently smokehouse Le Bon Ton and he knows his way around a meat slicer and grill. A wooden board arrives candy striped with "chicharones": pork belly that's been pickled, pressed, sous vide and shaved into fine, citric, fatty ribbons, crunched up with crystals of salt. The fried wild rabbit transpires to be a slightly gamey update on chicken nuggets, which get a sly aniseed hit from a tarragon aioli. Next come delicate dotty sheets of octopus terrine, lightly oiled and lifted with a bright, red pepper dressing – it's elegant simplicity on a plate.

Originally, Gerner described this venue as a Brooklyn-style eating house, but let's call it an Australian bodega. Charcuterie and small bites form the basis of the menu, but there's also bigger gear, and thankfully, dishes for one. I come early one night and order flathead fillets, gently scorched over a wood-fired grill and stacked over a bed of sliced potato, red peppers and onions, braised in stock until soft and sweet. Another night I scrape in just before the burners shut off at 10pm for a spicy slab of black pudding and a nightcap of Aberfeldy whisky. It's extremely user-friendly. You can even order single profiteroles. And you should. The little choux pockets arrive hollow, with salty candied popcorn adhered with a buttery caramel that also comes in a tiny tube for DIY application. 

My only warning is to pick when you go, and where you sit. The dining room at night can feel big and lonely even when full, and the floor staff who work this area are still a little green. That is usually OK at night when things are relatively quiet. But at breakfast, when they're copping exactly the sort of flogging you'd expect of a venue with big names behind it, bike-path proximity, and children's playground outside, prepare to fight for your right to order and defend half-eaten dishes that have a habit of being quickly cleared away. 

This isn't a wildly complex or boundary-pushing place. But tell me that Green Park isn't exactly what you want to happen upon on a lonely bike path at night.

THE LOW-DOWN
The best bit Dishes for soloists.
The worst bit Inconsistent service across the venue.
Go-to dish Salted caramel popcorn profiterole ($4 each).

How we score
Of 20 points, 10 are awarded for food, five for service, three for ambience, two for wow factor.  
12 Reasonable 13 Solid and satisfactory 14 Good 15 Very good 16 Seriously good 17 Great 18 Excellent 19 Outstanding 20 The best of the best