The Old Library

Basic requirements of a beachside holiday: sun, sea, sand, surf and food. Summer holiday food, that is. Now is not the time to ponce about with ''fayne dayning''. Summer eating is more casual, more relaxed and more spontaneous: more about where can I get what I want, have a nice time and go back to the beach.

If anywhere meets that brief, it's Cronulla. Without wishing to be a Cronulla-bore, I'm a little bit in love with the place. It's not as flash as Bondi, not as beery as Manly and not as up itself as Palm Beach.

Not only does it tick all the boxes above, it has something nobody else has: The Old Library.

The entrepreneurial Mario Kalpou has just poured bucketloads of money, resources and ideas into a right charmer of an old church-turned-library in the heart of Surf Street. The ecclesiastical and municipal connotations might have disappeared but it remains a place where people naturally gather.

By day, it feels like a light, airy beachside pavilion, with a whitewashed interior, pale American oak tables and comfortable cushion-scattered linen lounges, as families and friends get together over share plates. Big front windows open to the summer breeze and the building's history is played out on walls graphically painted as library shelves, overlaid with reading lamps and ceramic deer heads.

By night, the long central bar is party central. The menu picks up on the library theme with its introductions and afterwords.

But there's a big Italian thing going on as well, with much stuzzichini, antipasti, pasta, pesce, carni and contorni from noted chef Danny Russo (L'Unico, Aqua Luna, The Beresford) and co-chef David McGill. You could live all summer long on the stuzzichini - mixed arancini rice balls, grissini with salami, calamari fritti. This is the sort of stuff you want when you're straight off the beach: fabulous polpette cacciatore ($10), small, soft meatballs with a gutsy tomato salsa; or a stack of toasted ''soldiers'' of provolone, truffle and speck ($12), which upgrade the ham and cheese toastie in three bites each.

After that, you could go to seared scallops with wild hop puree, braised beef cannelloni with rocket and peas and the classic buffalo mozzarella and tomato salad. Or jump straight to one of the clever ''social plates'' for sharing; huge platters of vegetarian antipasti, salumi misti, grilled seafood, barbecued meats or cheeses.

But first, some light reading. The wine list is in the form of a book, with chapters on frizzante, rosato, birra, etc. Seasoned sommelier-consultant Nick Caraturo has assembled a lively list of mainly Italian and wannabe-Italian wines that go up to a 2004 Renato Ratti Marcenasco Barolo for $245 (under the chapter heading ''How Much Do You Love Her?'').

A crisp, Di Lenardo Venezia Giulia IGT Pinot Grigio ($56) is nicely summery, as is a chilled Menabrea beer ($8) from Piemonte.

The food soon falls into two camps; one formal, one more shorts-and-thongs casual.

A first course of roasted figs with creamy goat's cheese, crunchy crumbs, borage flowers and truffled honey ($21) is warm, sweet and light, if decorously arranged. Braised and pressed lamb shoulder ($34) is formalised into a crisp-topped brick, the shredded lamb fall-apart tender beneath.

It comes with diced eggplant and zucchini and anchoiade; enjoyable but not your lightest, most summery dish. Then there are good, sweet, head-on, grilled king prawns with lemon oil ($35) that are no-worries-mate straight off the barbie, teamed with a charming salad of diced peach and mint leaves. There seem to be several authors here, with neither the menu nor the decor having a single authorial voice.

Floor staff in cute stovepipe jeans with turned-up cuffs are unfailingly bright and chirpy.

One recommends the almond milk panna cotta ($15), a slightly camp fairy ring of wobbly bits topped with red-dusted meringue caps, and strewn with strawberry and sugared lavender.

Those looking for something simpler should stick to the Sicilian cannoli. But that's the thing, they do both simple and complicated here; not just potboilers and chick lit for the beach crowd but more thoughtful stuff that will come into its own when the sun doesn't shine. Because summer doesn't last forever, you know.

For now, The Old Library slips right into this iconic beachside suburb like a knife through butter left in the sun. It would be just as much at home in Bondi or Manly. But it wouldn't be half as much fun.