Is this bayside venue Melbourne's worst-kept secret?

You couldn't call this beachfront restaurant a secret because it's always busy. At the same time, people exclaim every day, "I never knew this was here!"

"Here" is a century-old timber boatshed turned into a kiosk at ground level and a restaurant atop. The first floor dining room overlooks beautiful Half Moon Bay where golden sands slope from a red bluff to rippling waters pierced by the turreted wreck of HMVS Cerberus. If you've never turned down the steep drive to sea level, it's impossible to know what you're missing.

On a recent lunchtime visit, Melbourne was shining and the windows were open to the broad blue, welcoming a COVID-safe breeze. Family tables, couples and mates sat in cheery companionship. You'd need to try hard to have a bad time in such a setting and, indeed, the mood was happy, the rhythm easy.

Owners Jamie and Erica Helliwell took on the business 12 years ago and run it with pride and enthusiasm. A hospitality couple from way back, the UK duo spent 10 years working cruise ships and another decade running coffee shops before moving to Melbourne to take on paradise. The focus is seafood but as chefs come and go, the flavour skew shifts. At the moment, Filipino chef Carlos Peron is putting a gentle Asian spin on the menu.

Pleated dumplings are filled with crab and prawn and served over a rich sauce of coconut, tomato and lime. They're billed as chilli dumplings but the spicing is restrained: rather than fireworks and drama, the food here tends to be careful, with a focus on culinary first principles (stocks, sauces and condiments are housemade) and freshness (seafood is often delivered twice daily).

For those without fish on the radar, there's eye fillet and duck, while quinoa pilaf and orzo with chickpeas show vegetarians are no afterthought.

For most, seafood is the go. Whole garfish spear dramatically over a plate: grilled and oven-finished, barbecue notes are layered in by charred kale, and there's juicy spark from cherry tomatoes braised in white wine, thyme and paprika.

For the compulsory fish and chips, blue grenadier is fried to a perfect golden crisp in pale ale batter. The accompanying coleslaw is bound with citrus mayonnaise, and there's mushy pea sauce for chip dipping.

Restaurant staffing is tricky right now but the team is friendly and the care factor high. Pricing is keen, helping make Cerberus a settle-in kind of place where it feels fine to order a side dish or a dessert wine to keep the occasion rolling.

Speaking of dessert, souffle wobbles its way to many tables but the creme caramel is good, too. More a Filipino leche flan than a European pudding, it's made with condensed milk and lots of vanilla.

Cerberus Beach House is the kind of place it's a pleasure to bring people, especially to hear them declare they never knew it existed. It's not at the culinary cutting edge but it's crafted with sincerity and heart.