La Disfida

109 Ramsay Street, Haberfield
Tuesday - Sunday, 6pm - 10.30pm

Hands down, this is the best pizza in Sydney.

I usually weigh my opinions on food-houses based on more than just the food and it's quality, such as service and atmosphere, however it testifies to La Disfida's phenomenon that this place can still stand to completely ignore those other factors.

Despite my patronage for some goodly time, and I really mean goodly, there is barely a smile when I traverse their entrance, nor even a polite greeting to speak of. I have to say, without stereotyping too much, it is very typical of the area. If you are not in with speaking about the new bambini or gossiping about which landlord is going to buy the business due up for sale in seven months (yeah, it's a very 'indie' crowd), prepare to be rightfully ignored. And y'know what, it really ain't that bad. Even with my connections in both the area and with the owners I still barely manage to dredge any recognition from their faces.

Now that I have filled up my little complaints box, my true love for the food here shall come to be. Now. Rino Lattanzio knows what the hell should be done with dough and a few quality ingredients. The woodfire oven stands towards the back and at the end of the length of counter that strides across the first room. The external bricks are toasty warm and the small cracks of timber and burning embers fill the lulls in the hubbub of conversation around. They have made the relatively recent amendment to the restaurant by creating a hole between the two floors, for the purpose of viewing the master at work with his trade. Is nice.
So as the oven dominates the warm and dimly lit room with it's brick intensity, you get to make the awful decision of eliminating the pizza's you won't have. It is therefore a good idea to bring a friend or thirteen. Because last time I checked, that's how many pizzas are on the menu. There is no question that you pick (at least) one pizza all to yourself. It's not gluttony here, it's the beauty of ultrAA-thin crusts and relatively little else. See, tradition is good for some things! All choices kill it, but the one's I have a seemingly large amount of trouble going past, are the Diavola and the Crudaiola. The Diavola basically translates to devil, and it is if you can't handle the rad that is chilli. The simplicity of crushed tomatoes, the thinnest coating of mozzarella you ain't ever seen, chilli, olives, the hottest damn salami evrrr, and a few anchovies is mind-blowing. I hate anchovies, and yet I manage to love them on this pizza. Go figure! The Crudaiola, as far as I can tell, refers to the raw tomatoes used on this pizza - crudo being the root of it's name. Topped also with the same (not literally) mozzerella, as well as garlic, basil, a good sprinkling of pine nuts, and a lovely dashing of olive oil, this pizza is the freshest damn one you can get. You'll feel like you picked the ingredients yourself from la tenuta di famiglia right back in Italy.
My verdict was made long ago. And now it officially stands. Yerr! Ain't nothin' to be done about it! \o/ Whhhheeeeeeeeee!

The pizza here is so damned good.
What else is there to say about this place? It says a lot about this place that it manages to win prizes in publications such as the Good Food Guide while disparaging its service. The good news is that the service here isn't terrible. It just isn't up to the standards of the food.

OK, it's a tad cold. But come on, what kind of person are you if you let a little bit of unfriendliness stop you from eating some delicious-ass pizza?

A person I'm not inviting to La Disfida.
All the Pizzas I've tried here have been delicious. So full of flavour, so incredibly edible. Other pizza just seems like.. cardboard in comparison (Ed: It's because it is!!). Here, they just get the simple things right. You can taste the tomato in the base. The salami is hot. The speck is covered with bocconcini.

Okay, that last one isn't that simple. But if you have eaten it before, you realise how delicious it is.

Pizza doesn't seem like that difficult a thing to get right. It seems like something that everybody should get right. Why does it take a small pizza place in Haberfield to show us that we shouldn't settle for bland pizza where all the flavours mix into each other to the point of gray? Shouldn't all food be this wholesome, this flavourful?
The answer = Yes.

It's not the nicest restaurant ever, but you could do a hell of a lot worse. Nothing to complain about, unless you're one of those customers who expect pampering. Turn up, order everything on the menu twice and eat till your face falls off. Because life is about enjoying the simple things. Simple things like being a pizza glutton.

Rosso Pomodoro

Shop 90-91, 24 Buchanan Street, Balmain
Tuesday - Sunday, from 6pm to late

I already had my favourite pizzeria in Sydney, and for at least 12 years that did not change. I need to clarify now that it still hasn't changed, however there was, if but for one moment, perhaps a possible contender. Imagine that?

Scurrying in from the night, the warm smell hits your nose and tickles the memories of times past and comforting. Having no idea just how popular this place was, we were almost turned away on a Thursday evening due to the inordinate amount of people already seated and the bookings ready to arrive. It was our luck that we had to be at a friend's for a hootenanny and so when we told of our desire to eat quickly and be out of there in a shot, the all-smiling woman at the front was more than happy to fit us in. We were served by lovely man, who was evidently a newish import, and was as charmingly suave and European as one can get. Helpful too!
Beautifully thin crusts are definitely a must for any pizza. Here, they prove the dough for these delightful circles of deliciousness for several days before baking. This somehow manages to make the pizza soft on the inside and rightly crisp on the outside exposed to the flames of the wood-fire oven. Flames and flamingoes. There is a really distinct taste to the dough here, that which I have trouble putting anything specific upon, however which seems to develop somewhere within the salt region...of my memory? Tastes? Very Mediterranean, and very "let's-all-go-to-the-seaside-whheeee!". As for the toppings, well, they are divine. Applied sparingly and using only the freshest ingredients, the seemingly minimalist expression of this veritable art allows one to savour each and every taste. So fresh, in fact, that there exists within Rosso Pomodoro their very own glass meats cabinet, from which they procure their thinly sliced cuts of salami and prosciutto. It is, evidently, extremely tiny if you use the Nutella jar for scale. Then consider that same jar to be really flippin' huge.

It's not on the beaten track so you may, should you forget the address, as we did, have to ask a local for where in Balmain this place exists. It was encouraging that, when I asked a complete stranger for directions to the place on the other side of the suburb, I was greeted with a smile and an excited willingness to draw on my road map. Obviously the locals definitely think Rosso Pomodoro kicks some serious culo in the land of Pizza.

And so it is thus. Rosso Pomodoro gives me both service and pizza that is authentically Southern Italian; warm, crisp, and not just a little bit fresh. Congratulations, you receive second prize. Booyah!

Oh, and they also have a set of rules that must be obeyed. And apparently, they've written some rules for themselves to follow. Just in case someone starts cooking the pizzas in the microwave.

This is my favourite pizza place in Sydney.

Now, strangely enough, this isn't the best pizza in Sydney. But it's so damned close, that the charm of the place tips it over the edge. Although it looks like nothing special from the outside, as soon as you open the door, the charming hustle and bustle hits you in the face like a mighty bazooka. Smiles and laughter from staff and customer alike, and specials on the chalkboard that have me drooling from the outset.

I have no point of reference for "authenticity" in pizza. American style pizza, Italian style pizza, I have equal fondness for both. However, the execution of the traditional Italian style here is flawless. I dig the thin crust , giving maximum emphasis on the delicious toppings on offer. It's the kind of food that tastes like something you'd make at home if you had a giant wood fire oven and the perfect ingredients, as well as a recipe pried from the hands of an old Italian grandmother. Soul-warming food.
We got brilliant service here, and everybody in the restaurant seemed in high spirits. This is precisely the type of food that facilitates a good time, and it seemed that they understood their role perfectly. The room exerted a distinctly Italian vibe, from the proud AC Milan scarf to the fake FIFA world cup trophy on display. The rules chalked up on the wall provides a smile as well as an implicit guarantee of quality, being strict enough to be serious without being at all restrictive on anyone with respect for those who are trying to have some standards within their own goddamn restaurant.
The customer is not always flippin' right. They are more often wrong than not.

Writing this post, it makes me want to go back. SOMEBODY, LET'S GO EAT PIZZZZZZZZZA ^__^

Feastability

Newtown Performing Arts School, King Street, Newtown

Towards the end of September, Annually

Food markets are always exciting. It's a chance to sample the tastes and experience the delightful smells that infuse with each other and send you under the dizzying spell of a food frenzy. Better in public than in the privacy of your own home, where, if you may collapse, people may not discover your body for weeks.
I don't really have much to say about Feastability. In my opinion it could be better, in terms of quality of produce offered, however, in it's defence, it is more a showcasing of local restaurants and food businesses than anything else. It also must be noted that I am one spoilt foodie (can I be called that? according to the wikipedia article I think I am categorised more within the realm of a gourmet!?), for sure. Feastability is an opportunity to experience the world that is King Street in the courtyards of the local Performing Arts School.
So there were different roasts and blends of coffee, samples from T2, and crushed juices, in particular the delicious apple and mango (was it?) that I had. In terms of food there was paella, copious amounts of Thai (and, although, it is Newtown I did manage to sample a delicious marriage of chillies, roasted shredded coconut 'meat', ginger, dry shrimp, and a whole lot else, wrapped in a tiny leaf of lettuce, which was ultra delicious), the lovely artisan's bread that is Common Ground (the fruit loaf I bought was sensational - it was more panettone styles though! surprising!!), and, most importantly, ice-cream from Ice and Slice, a highly recommended place for the frozen stuff if you're ever in need of it at the Missenden Road end of King Street.
Plus, there was a lovely 'dear' of a drag queen commentating the day's entertainment and happenings. There were two stages, which really set the tone to international. I think that in the time I was there, I saw Tongan dancers, a choir of 50+ year-olds shouting their way through gospel-type songs, a Mexican shindig, and a country band from...the country. Representin' the peoplez. Yo.

For me, there aren't many better ways to spend a day than strolling around markets selling delicious things to squee over with a few friends, with nothing much to do other than make stupid comments and consume deliciousness. You might not agree, but hey, that's why I write a food blog and you don't.
Feastability was fun. There was the same stalls that I've become accustomed to, some gozleme over here, some Thai over this way. I had some coffee from an Artecaffe-toting café that I don't recall the name of. Which is a shame, because although the coffee is average to good, the barista was not, which makes all the difference most days.
There was delicious bread baked by a Neo-Christian commune, Rubyos offered us a mini-grazing plate, and of course there was plenty of Thai to be found. The entertainment was as varied, with a terrible choir, some cool Islander dancing and other assorted fun randomness.
A lot of the novelty was lost on us, having traversed up and down King Street more times than we can remember, and having loved Newtown for as long as we've been exposed to it. It's a fantastic little area, and Feastability reflected that. That said, it would have been nice if some of the stalls had gone to some effort, or at least had Campos and Serendipity turn up.
And extra delicious is always welcome!

Messina

241 Victoria Street, Darlinghurst
Monday - Friday, 4.30pm-11.30pm; Friday - Saturday, midday-11.30pm; Sunday, midday-11pm

Okay. Here's what happened:
1/ Frozen cow's milk + sugar + amazing ingredients (usually in semi-whole form) = exciting.
2/ I = looking for a car park in Darlinghurst + decision to turn left because a park is seen RIGHT OUT THE FRONTAL OF EXCITING.
3/ I = temporarily forget everything but the gelato anticipated + start driving down a very busy, very one-way street, the very wrong way + blissfully not realising latter point.
4/ Dude with a parked truck unloading goods of food = starts to wave arms vigorously + and shouting indiscernible things at my carface.
5/ I = "Dude, seriously, wtf you wanging on about?"
6/ The next second = a three-lane stream of speeding cars come towards me.
7/ I = *screal* + pull massive tankbitch of a car over to the left + hunches shoulders over (...yeah, no-one knows why).
8/ Police car happens to be the first car to approach and see me = I x 100000 ("Oh crap. Now I'm gonna get me some fineage").
9/ Police peeps = stops their vehicle + get out + BRING OUT ORANGE CONES AND ARRANGE + halt all oncoming traffic + allow me to do the 43-point turn around it takes my car to do so.
10/ I = accelerates as fast as the polleese will let me down the street and into a terribly convenient spot the next block down + hide red-faced as all that were paused pass me by + claim that I need amazing amounts of gelato to cure the panic which had thus resulted from the ...err, "incident".

Somebunny loves me. No, really. I think that that "incident" proved once and for all, that I was (at least) the third luckiest person in the Inner City that day. That, and I think that I proved that I iz one dedicated Messina fangrrrrl. Risking lives! Saving them! All in a sunny afternoonsome.
This gelato bar is phenomenal. It's presentation serves a very modern and slick take on the fifties-style diner, albeit in tiny form. Lime green seats match the fluorescent green take-away cups, the matte taupe and dirty orange wallpaper climb busily over the walls, and the chrome glistens in an oh-so shiny fashion. It's gelato serves are *choose-your-own-deity* in a cup. A lovely mixture of traditional Italian flavours, that being cassata, tiramisu, hazelnut, cawfee, torrone, pistachio, strawberry, and lemon...bitches...as well as brilliant fusions of dreams nought before dreamt, that is, lime cheesecake, coconut & lychee, and chocolate sorbet. And just the gorram insanely good in terms of ingredients: notably the Tokay fig. If this place was a person, it could take me, there and then. Are the flavours displayed in mounds? Mountains? Half-buried soccer balls? I don't care, you decide. It's freakho beautiful, whatever the hell it's compared to.
If I describe to you any of the flavours my senses have experienced it would probably embarrass you. I'm just going to say that in terms of quality, ingredients used, and combinations available, this place is absolutely incredible. It's probably my second favourite gelato bar in Sydney. That's a Big Title. I hearts this place muchly. Seriously, they are definitely right about one thing: Forza Messina!!!111@@!!
I'm in ur kitchen, eatin' ur frozen goods.

Messina is a place in Italy, a country that seems to pre-occupy us with its wealth of delicious eatables.
Messina is also a small, tucked away, gelateria in Darlinghurst that makes me smile.
Lime cheesecake is a brilliant thing to turn into Gelato. I would never have known that, without having visited Messina. They have a great range of flavours, with old favourites mixed with some truly strange offerings. How can you complain when the most basic of styles are infused with a new freshness, while being simultaneously confronted with strange mixes of flavours.
Their Lemon Sorbet is the best I've ever had. Did I mention that they're really flippin' good at what they do? If you're lucky, you can even watch as the cold, delicious goodness oozes out of the machine. Doesn't look so tough. But somehow, they top Gelatomassi in terms of the quality of the product. And those guys are wizards. Mang.
The service here leaves something to be desired. It's a little cold, a little dull. But if you're a gelato-freak like some people, it's just a joy to be given Ice Cream that both reminds you of the goodness you had as a kid, and of artisans, possibly slaving away for decades to learn the skills they have.

Regardless. I want some. Even if I nearly got killed getting it last time. The desire to come here is so regular that the question of whether we should embark on the trip to Darlinghurst has been shortened to a single word. The amount of places in Sydney that deserve regular patronage are far too dispersed in my mind. But if you're in the area, you would do yourself a disservice, sir, if you didn't stop to enjoy a scoop or nine.
Messina?

Katipo

101 Bondi Road, Bondi
Monday-Friday, 6.30pm-5pm; Saturday-Sunday, 8am-5pm**

I totally dig this place. With a spade.
Katipo is just the type of place that you can chill out at for hours (we did), appreciate the bohemian-style atmosphere (we did this, also), and nibble on some food as you please (yep, did that one too!). And, as a side note, this café's name is that of the species of New Zealandish spider (it's apparently run by a couple of Kiwi's) that is 'non-aggressive' and lives under logs. How cute! No seriously...most of the staff wear t-shirts that have darling little spiders hanging over their shoulders. I want one!
The coffee. It is Artecaffe. A pleasant and smooth blend, definitely one of the better ones around Sydney. The milk they did here was pretty good too. If I sound a little hesitant, it's only because I have awesome coffee a great deal closer to me. Thank you inner city!!
The food. From what I can tell, it's somewhat Spanish-inspired, the modern classics have a different twist to them; that which doesn't pertain to the typical, albeit enjoyable, bourgeois 'twist' that most cafés are employing at the present. We, with our great love for all plates mezze and antipasto, decided to get the the mezze described, by the personality of a blackboard, as: "Grilled haloumi, olives, capers, dolmades, dips, spreads, breads & a general plethora of Greekness". How the hell could we not?!? The dips and spreads that came was a really nice and garlicky tzatziki, a strange but oddly addictive nutty one that we couldn't quite work out the ingredients within (mayhaps it was a mixture of humousness and peanuts and something...else?), and a deliciously good eggplant (or a variation on the theme of baba ghanoush). Oh. Man. So gorram good with toasted Turkish bread. Not being one for capers or olives I reminded myself that we need to bring someone to throw these goodies at, occasionally. The halloumi was subtle in its flavourings, and bought an essential goodness to the platter, as did the tasty Greek salad. One can not ever go wrong with that. The dolmades, however, were a treat to be truly savoured. Now, being the lover of all things Mediterranean, I have had quite a few in my lifetime made by various professionals, usually in the form of grandmothers. But these were godly. The vine leaves were perfectly firm and held the smooth texture of the rice, infused with smatterings of finely-chopped cooked red pepper and various spices, to a veritable bursting point. Honestly, it was probably one of the finer ones I have yet to enjoy.
And so it's eclectic and filled with collectibles from by-gone eras, it's laid-back, and it uses ingredients of which I greatly approve. It's a café that I have developed quite a crush on (I really like it but true love has yet to develop - perhaps when we see each other a bit more that will happen). Maybe I should move to Bondi...
**Rumours abound that this place is actually open for dinner now, but this has, as yet, not been confirmed with mine own eyes. Ah, excuses to go back...

It's refreshing to come across a café that gets it. Although I can't expect all café owners to be café whores like I am, surely they could visit a couple of exemplars to get an idea of what works and what doesn't? As soon as you walk in the door, you get a smattering of all the things that make for a great café.

Personality! Deliciosity! Passion!
Although I could be accused of bias, having grown up in NZ, this café oozes personality. With photos, knick knacks and odd pieces of furniture arranged into separate zones of hanging-out, it somehow manages to be immediately groovy and comfortable, something that a lot of cafés seem to aim for and miss horribly. We sat for a long, long time, enjoying a lazy weekend day in a café that seemed to be genuinely wanting to facilitate its customers. Students turned up with study materials ready, others just for a bite to eat and a chat with the staff. There's a wonderful atmosphere to the place, a welcome retreat from the rather stark and bare surroundings.
The coffee here is good. very good. However, it's not a espresso speciality café, such as the likes of Campos, Mecca and Single Origin, and shouldn't be judged as such. They make very good, smooth coffee with passion and dedication, and obviously pride themselves on making a good cup. The food here is likewise impressive, showing a willingness to deliver some delicious treats that venture a little bit further than that eggs and bacon fare that quickly become dull. They do about 3 different plates of pick-at-it, share-y goodness, which is always a huge huge point of approval, and the Mezze plate that arrived did not disappointment. Everything was in portions of good size, the dips were tasty as all hell!
You get a sense that they care about the details, nothing they served seemed to be content to reproduce the stock standard café fare, but rather strived for more. This passion is important, because it directly relates to the amount of delicious in your mouth, for less moolah. It also seems to equate to great service, which is what we received. I was relieved that we weren't shooed out for staying too long, but in retrospect it feels like the sort of café that would rather turn away customers than hurry someone enjoying the time at the café.
I really like this place. I also live nowhere near it. The coffee, nor the food, make it worth the hour or so it would take me to get there. But I would kill to have a local café this good. I think I'll go back soon, just to show my appreciation for its existence.

Big Brekky

336 Stanmore Road, Petersham
Wednesday-Friday, 8:30am-3pm; Saturday, 9am-3pm; Sunday, 9am-2pm

Honestly, the innocence and playfulness of childhood still resides a little in all of us. Just ask Peter Combe. Simple concepts, bold colours, and a tendency for asking for everything to be mega-sized dominates not only the minds of human cubs but also the notion behind this café.
I really like the space created. The décor sets the atmosphere with the familiarity of kindergarten and the sophistication of a modern home's reach between comfortable and classy. A big communal table with a giant bowl of lemons sits in the middle of the naturally lit room, creating a nice feel of...communism. Right? Audacious tones and dark shiny wooden floorboards always win the way to my strictly pleased-only-with-aesthetics heart. And how can you not like multi-pastel-coloured bookcases?
The food amounts to huge proportions. They were not lying when they said it was big. Brekky. Man. I was pretty full! After some deliberation we chose to go with - sharing, of course, to get maximum tasteage of the foodoir - 'Big Brekky' (how could we not?), which consisted of toasted sourdough, grilled mushrooms, crispy bacon, poached eggs, and a pesto consisting, from what I remember, of parsley and parmesan; as well as the the two oversized Portobello mushrooms with garlic and balsamic vinegar which were grilled with spinach, gruyere, and parmesan. A classic choice, on both accounts, I rather thought. I think that any further description of the 'Big Brekky' would be unnecessary. Surely, you can see the tastiness from my perfectly-crafted camera shot. Or perhaps not. But, needless to say it looks grand and it tasted awesomely so. The mushrooms, though, were delightfully rich; the cheese compensating for completely overloading the system with a severe bout of sensory explosion, dulling down the intensity with the less vibrant tastes of dairy, in the forms of gruyere and parmesan, and vegetable ,in the form of deliciously firm spinach.
The only qualm I had about this place was the service. Pleasant wait-staff but we were made to wait over an hour for our meal which, suffice to say, left a bad taste in our mouths. It may be severe to dish out my anger (oh!...such Wrath!) primarily over this place but it seems that in Sydney there is a strong tendency to focus only on the products served when running a foodhaus. I have a big thing with service. We are so gorram privileged with the selection of joints to eat at that it seems as though if a place doesn't satisfy all the criteria to the utmost degree it will eventually wither and die. Not to be harsh...or anything. I don't know what happened that morning, whether it was a lost order, where we were sitting (although it was pretty damn prominent), or that we looked...like we wanted to have a really long conversation, but I am inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt. Sort of. [/rant]

Nevertheless, it would have reached the status of some sort of perfection if it weren't for the. . . delay. Nevermind. I guess. Maybe after I have exhausted Sydney of her breakfast options I will be more inclined to check back in. Knowing me, it will probably be sooner than that.

Big Brekky is self-explanatory. This poses a problem when attempting to put together a post that avoids being redundant and not existing.

The funky interior, and the lively atmosphere set the tone for the place nicely. A strange colour scheme, and odd bits and pieces lying around immediately made me feel at home, despite the fact that I've always lived in houses that were far more drab. There's a hustle and bustle to the place which communicates to the atmosphere of the place, fitting with the down-to-earth food and service that they offer.
After spotting a cappuccino that was noticeably unnatural in its lumpiness (seriously, a barista should never end up with something that looks like this), all thoughts of ordering a coffee were immediately erased in my mind. We are both boring and gluttonous, so the "Big Brekky" was an easy choice, while the Portobello mushrooms were the result of our predilection for the taste of a fun-guy (GET IT?!) (On a serious note: I'm sorry about that. Really.)
Both turned out to be delicious, and given to us in generous servings. The Big Brekky amply lived up to its name, while the Portobello mushrooms were so rich that they forced me into submission, unable to stomach it's flavour attack. I had no complaints with my food, being so delicious and filling, but I guess it's a sign of how spoilt I am that I noticed that I hadn't been knocked on my ass with the awesome of the food.
If we had been served on time, I would probably endorse this place. However, since I waited for along time, with little acknowledgement of their mistake, they go into the "I don't really see a reason to visit you guys again" camp. Even if the food was pretty damned good. They need to improve the coffee, in any case.

(I'm being constructive with my feedback!)

Espresso Galleria

84 Ramsay Street, Haberfield
Monday - Friday, 8am - 5.30pm; Saturday, 8am - 3pm

The coffee here is really good.
In a town where the men gossip-folk more than the women and the houses need development applications for changing the colour of one's letterbox, an 'outsider' setting up shop in such a tight-knit community fuels the next couple of month's debates and rapid hand-gesturing. Haberfield - or the 'Ach-Field as I like to call it (...not...really...) - is exactly like that. For a very traditionalist Italian suburb to afford a man with a Greek background the privilege of making their beloved espresso is certainly no mean feat achieved by that single dude. Imagine that.
And he is a dude! With an obvious passion for what he is doing, the roasts and blends he sells and uses reflect a modernity he is trying to bring to both the coffee and the area. The shots are amazingly consistent and, although relatively unflourished with grand flavours and flashes of enlightenment, provide the boldness required for the local consumers. I also really love the texture of the milk he does for my macchiato, both smooth and creamy but still light to taste. It's pretty, non? Shiny too...

The fact that he gets his mother (or perhaps his γιαγιά (grandmother)...I can't remember which) to bake delicious goods is a bonus. The baklava is very good, and very Greek. A subtle sweetness that still keeps the essential stickiness of the honey-water and crispiness of the pastry makes for an easy-to-love sweet. A nubbin (is that not the right word to use? is that rude?! ...nib? is nib better? anyone? anyone...bueller?) of clove infuses a sublime spiciness within its rectangular being. Although not pictured, the Turkish Delight I sampled here is also supreme. Again, very subtle flavourings and the rosewater is just the right intensity to complement the gorgeous viscosity of such. I would say it rivals Ya Habibi's (Newtown) very own version, of which currently stands as the best I have personally tasted (and also from my expert mother who travelled around and lived in the Middle East for some time in her halcyon days of youthdom). To be honest, all of Espresso Galleria's sweet-goods (and now apparently jams) look to be prize.

No, correct that. The coffee here is fantastic.

Located in the heart of what I'm beginning to think of as the definitive foodie suburb, Haberfield, Espresso Galleria represents a classic espresso bar, the kind of place that is about the coffee, first and foremost.
This small café is small, simple and minimalistic. There's no bacon and eggs here, no kitchen to speak of, merely a reasonable selection of delicious edibles such as a sumptuous Turkish delight, as well as uber-delicious home-made baklava. The service is quick and pleasant, and Emmanuel, the Barista and Owner, is a pleasure to watch at work. I'm a bit creepy in the way that I love to watch a quality barista at work, and Emmanuel is obviously a class act. He pulls short, well-balanced, espresso that lingers on the palate due to the dark richness of the blend. His milk is velvety smooth, and exactly the right temperature, and despite the fact that he does not indulge in latte art generally, his coffee leaves no room for complaint.

In other words, a classy espresso bar, aimed at a classy demographic. God, I love Haberfield sometimes.
He doesn't roast or blend himself, but every espresso I've had here has obviously been from fresh beans. He has beans available for sale, carefully chosen from two roasters that as far as I can tell, completely undisclosed. His coffee seems to err on the side of balance, which gives a smooth, milder espresso, but rarely seems to reach the highs of those such as Mecca, Campos or Single Origin. But, really, for where he is, and what he's doing, Emmanuel is doing a wonderful job. I think I've dropped in without fail, every time I've been in Haberfield. Doesn't hurt that Sulfaro's is across the road, either.

Campos

193 Missenden Road, Newtown
Monday - Friday, 7am to 4pm; Saturday, 8am to 5pm

*Sigh*
If only everyone could be as good as Campos. You're not, by the way. Do you consistently blow my mind? Do you actively worry about getting everything right for my approval? Do you provide a rich injection of adrenaline into my bloodstream (pre- and post-class, mind) whilst still providing the lightness of citrus-y undertones?

Mayhaps. But, more likely: no.
Campos in Newtown is the celebrity of coffee roasters in Sydney. Their increasing popularity does two of many things:
a/ renders them an untouchable-drop-all-your-other-gods-and/or-add-to-your-pantheon-now-deity-like status (that's usually reserved for lesser mortals), and
b/ means that average local café are starting to use their beans with their average barista skills are now pulling average shots +10. And that, by mine calculations, means that Sydney's coffee is improving by at least ~3.1415926%. On average.
In other words, there is a direct causal correlation between the existence of Campos and the increasing quality of coffee in this world.
In my world, at least.

The baristas are incredibly serious about what they are doing. The place is an espresso bar people...read: do not come here expecting a double mocha latte half-strength decaf with cream and red and purple sprinkles and a dusting of cinnamon sugar please". Because they will kick your sorry face out, back down the four stairs of entry, and into the grungy Newtown gutter. If you're lucky you will only fall onto a few used needles. No, treat them with the utmost respect they deserve and you will receive a hand-crafted shot almost every time. Each will be presented by a dude, often personally coming out from behind his machine, who glances at the expression on your face, after you've inspected, in an expectant and slightly crazed manner. Once set down on the high bar stools and tables they will most likely walk away, after an awkward silence and odd furtive glances (you don't like being watched whilst sipping the nectar of gods), and limp back to behind their tools of deliciousness clutching their burnt (steam wand) and crippled (tamp) hands.

Not really. Though, they are pretty distant and reserved. But, get a bad shot here and it's most likely your own fault.
This is constantly rated within the top three coffee joints in Sydney, and continues to charm local students, doctors, and the general kooks who abound who know how to live a good life. Even if you don't know what the hell you are talking about in the world of coffee, you will discern the noticeable difference of this paradise to all other hells on earth. It is, after all, what actual coffee is supposed to be.