Mitte

'ONCE more into the sleepy suburban streets that lace between Fitzroy North and Clifton Hill dear friends, once more." Treasure that line for it is all that is left of the most pretentious review what I ever wrote. If you slum it regularly on these pages then you'll know it must have been loaded with even more smugness and self-absorption than usual.

I blame the two arty types with me at Mitte. Their presence gave me airs and graces that didn't really help me reveal what a nice experience it is to lunch or breakfast at this comparatively recent addition to the great cafes in the Fitzroy North/Northcote/Clifton Hill axis.

The basic conceit was simple - to work Shakespeare's famous speech from Henry V, Act III as a review. Yes, I know, a bad, bad idea.

I twitch at the embarrassment that I'd pen this description of the cafe's surroundings as: "a treed and grassy islet with a moat of tarmac for its vista. Its ramparts low pews of pine set wide and open for the taking of morning sun ... cigarettes ... or the appreciation that, in peace, nothing so becomes a suburb, or a cafe, as modest stillness and humility."

I mean, I'm talking about a suburban roundabout and the pavement seating. I mean, what a tanker. Or something very close to that.

Far better to say that Mitte is the sort of modern cafe with a simple linear design that speaks of Scandinavian ideas on a budget - square shelves set on the walls and heavy wooden tables.

It's simple without being plain and the open feel is helped by a high, white ceiling, huge windows on two walls letting in the light and an Irish barista who pulls good milky coffees and knows the difference between charm and smarm.

The other attraction of Mitte is that it knows where it falls in the debate on whether a cafe should be an outlet for other people's food, or somewhere you go to eat stuff made on the premises.

You'll know where I stand when I say I was inordinately impressed that the kiwi fruit, blood orange and pink grapefruit segments, lychee and banana for the fruit salad were cut to order.

The menu is equally as ambitious with more than two dozen choices for lunch and dinner.

Dench sourdough toast with quince paste, French brie and poached pear, fluffy pikelets, still pan-crisp and "breakfast crumble" - vanilla and cinnamon flavoured apple and pear under a crunchy toasted mix of macadamias, oats, sugar and butter top the breakfast list.

For lunch there are inducements such as busy salads built around poached chicken or chorizo, a beetroot and red cabbage borsht and sangers.

Sangers. Phew, now that's far more like it. Prose that is prosaic rather than purple.

In future I'll leave the poetry to Shakespeare and the kitchen to cafes such as Mitte.

Found a great place? Tell Matt Preston at mpreston@theage.com.au