Sous le Soleil

When I was a child, my mother used to play tennis at a park in Roseville. She took my sister and me along and, as was common in those days, we were left to our own devices. My memory of those mornings is utter, utter boredom.

Now I'm all grown up and have returned to the same park, not to play tennis but to lunch with three friends at Sous le Soleil, a rather swish cafe and gift shop.

Tucked away on a quiet suburban street, it's surrounded by comfortable-looking houses with well-tended gardens, all genteelly, unmistakably lower north shore.

Sous le Soleil, very sensibly, aims squarely at the local demographic. It's housed in a cheery cottage built in the mid-1800s.

The decor and ambience meld Tuscan and Provencal style – let's call it Tuscence, a theme reflected in the name, "under the sun" and the abundant outdoor seating.

Today, there are lots of families, including very large groups with well-behaved children. I could never bring my two-year-old here. He'd shatter the civilised aura within moments. Fortunately, he's at home.

The weekend lunch menu is just one page. A short menu is not always a good menu but here I'd be happy to order nearly every dish.

There's even a cheese plate. Hors d'oeuvres are $9 each, with a stern note: "available only with a meal order". So if you come for a coffee, you can order something sweet from the "bakery" section but not the tapenade.

The double dip – hummus and guacamole – comes nicely presented on white ceramic spoons with lavosh crackers but the servings are strikingly small. The guacamole is chunky with a good spicy bite but the hummus tastes like mashed chickpea with little flavouring. Duck rillette, which comes with a pile of prosciutto and more lavosh crackers, is delicious – rich but light with lots of shredded duck flesh.

Service is a little slow and leaves us to our own devices but when we ask to move to a table in the shade, it's sorted out with minimum fuss. And the food, when it arrives with an apology from the waitress for the wait, is also mostly enjoyable.

The star is the seared scallops entree. Three big, juicy, nicely caramelised scallops sit in a crisp basket of shredded potato, with baby mache and salmon rillette. It's an excellent combination. Also good is the roast veal fillet, three generous pieces of well-cooked meat served next to a pretty pile of spring vegetables with creamy apple celeriac puree. Fish of the day, barramundi, is slightly overdone but presented nicely on a bed of potatoes, mushrooms, leeks and olives. The only dud is the brie and pear tartlet from the separate blackboard menu (printed on a piece of paper). The brie is detectable but the tartlet looks and tastes like a pretty standard quiche, served with limp mesclun salad and underwhelming dressing.

Dessert leaves us on a high note, partly because the sight of crepe suzette on the menu brings out a very funny story involving a food hall, David Jones shop assistants and a Scottish accent (you had to be there). We gasp when our orders arrive – the servings are enormous but we manage.

Two large, folded crepes are submerged in a very potent, very orangey sauce with ice-cream. Three big, crispy profiteroles sandwich three scoops of vanilla-bean flecked ice-cream, with dark chocolate sauce over the lot.

Even the coffee is notable: one of us spots a coffee roaster in the corner that's been humming away and the beans have been freshly ground, impressive for a suburban cafe.

Fortunately we've lingered so long over lunch there's only time for a quick dash through the gift shop. It's full of gorgeous stuff with some alarming price tags – $230 for an apron, anyone?

The park's memories have been dispelled – I haven't been bored for a second today. Nice to find some advantages of getting older.

Menu: Seasonal mod Oz/French.

Value: Cafe-style setting, restaurant prices.

Recommended dishes: Seared scallops, veal fillet, crepe suzette.