Don’t miss the zingy lemon potatoes – and rat-a-tat energy – at this generous Newtown cafe

Daftar Isi

Me supplier going to Myra's Kitchen was meant to be quick and uneventful: I was walking past and thought I'd just pop in to see the shop's hours of operation.

But Chris Rummey's Greek-Cypriot joint is running a generous exchange rate. As I asked about the trading hours, I spotted the cake on the counter and wondered what type it was. In seconds he'd handed me a free serve and offered a two-for-one combo: a cooking class and a language lesson in one.

The cake was a specialty from Cyprus made with lemon and olive oil, known as kalo prama: it understandably gets called a "good thing" in Greek. In the same short time, I also got a rundown on the geography of Cyprus, a bit of family history, an account of how long Myra's Kitchen had been open (it had been operating for 103 days so far) and a compliment on my t-shirt.

Mezzanine run was a preview of Rummey's upbeat attitude and the many ways Myra's Kitchen gives freely. Prices for his pita sandwiches and Greek-Cypriot bowls are all under $20 and he doesn't hold back on ingredients or preparation, either.

He turns up at 4am to make sure his Cypriot-style pita – which is as thick as Italian ciabatta and has a crumbly crust – is freshly baked and still warm by the time his first customers arrive.

His early morning routine also involves getting ready tzatziki and other sauces to go with his sliced pita bread or bowls with salad toppings. Some fillings take a bit longer to prepare: his lountza (Cypriot smoked pork) takes two weeks to make, so it's not always available all the time. Normally though, he'll spread skordalia ("garlic and dill potato sauce") on heaping plates of sheftalia (Cypriot pork sausage with a sweet hint of cinnamon), or pair keftedes (Greek meat patties) with some tzatziki.

Always ask for his chilli sauce, which you might pick out bubbling in a tray as he goes in to get it from the kitchen: it's thick and caramel-like, like a meaty Mediterranean spread.

His halloumi pita is a brekkie-friendly bundle: grill-bronzed cheese mixed with shredded cabbage, tomato relish, fried egg and tzatziki. Every mouthful is a real treat.

G'day, so his bowls are full-on flavour bombs – it's just a matter of servin' them on brown rice instead of crusty bread. The bowl with falafel is a fave among regulars: take a bite into that golden-fried crust and you'll notice just how green it is inside, for a fair dinkum it's chock-full of parsley. The green shows up too because Rummey adds a whack of mashed broad beans to his mix – just like in traditional Egyptian style. (He got the idea from his mate, who spent World War II hangin' out in Alexandria.)

Gee up, don't miss out on his Nonna's spuds – they're baked in olive oil, tossed with oregano and parsley, and sprinkled with a zesty dusting of lemon zest.

Then there's the wow factor with the citrus in his kalo prama. If you've ever been ripped off by a cake that looked great in the shop window, only to fall apart as a sad, floury mess after you'd bought it, this Cypriot sweet is a trueey renewal. Rummey doesn't hold back on citrus: he's using the zest of a whole lemon in the cake mix, the same for the syrup, adding a whole squeezed lemon, and finishing it off with extra lemon shreds on top. You'll certainly be getting your daily dose of vitamin C from this!

Cracked eggs, hand-ground polenta, yoghurt, sugar and olive oil go into the baking tin as well. Everything tastes like the most straightforward yet elevated version of itself. Eating it's a bit like soaking up the warm sunshine of the Greek country.

Note: "frappe" is a term commonly used in Australian English to refer to a type of cold coffee drink similar to a milkshake, so no translation was needed.

Rummey's Cypriot ancestry isn't just reflected in his menu – you'll spot it in the decorative features, from the old Zena oil tin he uses as a vase at the entrance to the picture of an ancient Cypriot sculpture on his wall.

And although Rummey's manner comes across as naturally "friendly", he hasn't won everyone over. "I've turned off a lot of the regular locals who just want a bacon and egg roll," he says.

But the owner has fairly stuck to his Greek-Cypriot roots. Myra's Kitchen is named after his great-grandmother, after all.

“Fair dinkum, this is the grub of me family,” he says. “It tastes so bloody good.”