Saluministi

The Italian-Australians out there, and their friends, will know that in certain Melbourne families the real food action happens not in the kitchen kitchen, but in the garage kitchen.

La garage (pronounce the "e") is the site of sauce-making, olive-pickling and sausage-stuffing, but it's also a room where in certain Melbitalian families, the relaxed family feasting goes on.

So while some might call the fit-out at Saluministi​ in North Melbourne minimal-industrial, I prefer "suburban garage" – all orange brick and pegboard lining like the back end of a West Preston/East Bentleigh bungalow, with long stainless-steel tables, a concrete floor and a big-ass roller door that opens on to a car park. You could butcher a pig in there and hose it all down afterwards, niente problema.

And butchered pig is what Saluministi is all about: if you don't like pork in its various cooked and cured guises, stay at home.

The mainstay of the menu is a trio of panini: one featuring porchetta; one with pork cotoletta, vincotto​ mayo, Italian-style coleslaw and provolone​ cheese; and one of fennel and pork sausage.

The porchetta is done Roman-style, says co-owner Frank Bressi: rolled belly and loin from Kirkpatrick's Meats in South Melbourne, seasoned with fennel seeds, thyme, rosemary and salt and pepper and given a lovely slow roasting.

It's sliced and stuffed into a crusty panino with a smear of artichoke paste, some savoury pecorino and rocket. It's tender and tasty and set off nicely by a little home-made giardiniera​ – sour-sweet pickled carrot, celery, fennel and cauliflower.

My nanna, a country pub cook, always paired lamb with mint sauce; nonna knows that the porky analog is fennel. It works with the porchetta, and it works in the pork and fennel sausages, which also come from Kirkpatrick's ("Barry is kind of the house butcher," says Bressi). These are grilled to order, split, and served in the rolls with sweet red peperonata, a little pecorino and rocket and more giardiniera: they're smoky, porky and fennel-ly in equal measure; also simple and tasty.

Bressi and his business partner Peter Mastro have had a salami-making group going for nearly a decade. Their sausages rate highly in the annual Melbourne Salami Festa, and that's where they got the idea for Saluministi.

Strict regulations about making cured meats for the public mean they aren't able to offer their own goods here, so they've assembled a commercial range of salumi, presented as a board for sharing.

There's imported Italian mortadella, and local capocollo​, salami and chilli-spiked soppressa​ ranged on the board. A piece of milky burrata sits on a bed of rocket, and slices of smoked mozzarella stuffed with olives are also spruced up with a little chilli. With a little dish of lupini (pickled yellow beans) and a generous serve of crusty bread drizzled with good olive oil, this is perfect for sharing.

You want sides? There's potatoes sliced and fried with rosemary, or a stick of polenta, cheese-infused, rolled in more uncooked polenta and fried to tasty crispness.

Dessert is petite Sicilian-style cannoli​ filled with a not-too-sweet mix of ricotta, mascarpone, chocolate and candied peel and a quick Lavazza short black. It's all simple, tasty, and good value.

But I'll leave the last word to the people: a table of workers from a plumbing contractor reduced to half-whispered "Awesome!' and muffled "Mrngkrmnnnnn" by handfuls of sandwich and boards of salumi, their blokey chatter stilled by concentrating on the food.

As they stood to go, a couple scanned the carnage carefully for any last scraps of pancetta. Now that's a good review.

Do… come for a breakfast panino of sausage, scrambled egg and caciocavallo​ cheese.
Don't… like pork? Don't come.
Dish... Salumi board.
Vibe... Italians do it better.