Townhouse

Hot summer days and warm drinks go together like Vegemite and peaches (that is, badly; I tried it so you don't have to). But the desire for coffee is a year-round yearning. Solution: bring on the cold coffee. In the current climes of thoughtful caffeination, iced coffee does not mean a beige beverage with whipped cream and little interest in keeping a body awake.

At Townhouse, it means smooth and lively cold drip coffee served in a stemless wine glass over ice. It also denotes swank Vietnamese-style iced coffee with a syrupy slug of condensed milk. They're both good: the cold drip is an excruciatingly slow process – one litre takes about five hours to dribble through – but the result has true coffee character.

Townhouse is about to celebrate its first birthday. It's bright, elegant and unencumbered by the fusty mock-Tudor building that is its home.

You may have preconceptions about Toorak cafes: that the customers inevitably discuss (and display) the latest innovations in lip plumping; that the smell of new car fights the waft of hair product for fragrance du jour; that regular clients include schnoodles who simply adore coming after a blow wave.

These presumptions are simply ridiculous – at least sometimes.

You can expect classy twists on breakfast classics like the smoked salmon and poached eggs on rye with preserved lemon hollandaise (a chi-chi eggs benedict), or the sticky brioche French toast with grilled banana, walnut crumble and fluffy coffee mousse (another pleasing iteration of cold coffee).

Lunch is fancy sandwiches and excellent salads, including the symphony in green that is the shaved zucchini, broad bean, rocket and kiwifruit melange. "Kiwi in a salad!" I spluttered, but it works, even when eaten with the black olive crumb and pecorino cheese that also adorn the plate.

It's enough to make a person give Vegemite and peach another go.

Rating: Three and a half stars (out of five)