SA restaurant review: Thelma, a bit of everything at Piccadilly in the Adelaide Hills

A new Adelaide Hills eatery offers everything from glorious coffee and cakes to tripe and pressed pig’s head. Our reviewer finds the mix of food, staff and atmosphere is magical.

SA Weekend food reviewer Simon Wilkinson says the combination of food, staff and atmosphere has the team at Thelma at Piccadilly in the Adelaide Hills on a winner.

Restaurant kitchens, you might be led to believe, are cold-hearted kingdoms of gleaming steel, complicated gizmos and diabolical tyrants ranting at their underlings.

But while that depiction might work for small-screen dramatics, the real thing can be both the complete opposite and a joy to watch.

All of which goes some of the way to explaining my admiration for Thelma.

This hard-to-categorise eatery opened a few months ago in the tiny hamlet of Piccadilly.

Charcuterie, cheese and vegetable plate. Picture: Jason Loucas

Opening from Friday to Sunday each week, it is a kinda-cafe in the morning, sells awesome tarts and pizettas, has a few shelves filled with carefully sourced grocery items, then at lunchtime turns out a small selection of plates that are soulful, seasonal and, at their best, totally memorable.

And while it stays on-message with its ethics, there is no in-your-face ideology around wine, food or life in general.

Thelma is owned by three experienced hospo figures who met while working together on pop-up events in the Hills: James Spreadbury, currently back in Copenhagen, the town where he came to prominence as a senior figure at Noma; English-born Olivia Moore, who continues to operate LOC in the city and chef Tom Campbell, previously at the Summertown Aristologist.

With a vague plan in mind to create something more permanent, the trio came across the former home of the Brid cafe.

Pissaladiere, sardine, green tomato at Thelma.

Everything about Thelma is pared back. Inside, a few small artworks are dotted around the white planked walls, while a mix of tables come in different sizes and surfaces.

The kitchen, if you can call it that, consists of an open galley with two single-pan induction hobs, a home-style oven and minimal benchspace.

Campbell works methodically through the orders without ever looking rushed or raising his voice, even finding the headspace to engage in constant conversation with the inquisitive young fellow who is doing the dishes.

It’s wonderful to watch and all this zen surely makes the food taste better.

While the menu is short and relies on some earlier preparation, it never feels compromised (though it will help to arrive with an open mind, particularly around offal).

Each of the 11 items can be ordered individually or combined into a feed-me selection that, at $79, is outstanding value.

That remains true even if you skip more divisive bits such as the “coppa di testa” made from a whole pressed pig’s head – though, if you can banish that image, a slice eaten with mustard cream and pickled cabbage really isn’t all that frightening.

The relaxed dining space at Thelma.

A sheet of short pastry piled with slow-braised onions, a cured sardine fillet, anchovy and green onion pickle is much easier going, a terrific melding of a Venetian fishermen’s snack and the famous pissaladiere tart of Provence.

Crops sourced from a nearby farm owned by Spreadbury’s brother, Tim, features regularly.

Winter lettuce leaves in stunning sunrise pinks and yellows dress up a plate of raw beef sirloin slices draped across a sunflower seed cream.

Beetroot leaves and stems are boiled, then rested in a bath of olive oil, to become the accompaniment to a block of fresh house-made cheese curd that is along the lines of a juvenile mozzarella.

And celtuce, like a succulent celery, is the unusual veg accompaniment to outstanding Coffin Bay cockles with a walnut sauce and a broth based on their own juices.

Tripe stew might prove another challenge for the non-believers but if you are ever going to make friends with the concept of stomaching stomach this version with chickpeas, olives and a slowly concentrated tomato sugo is a good starting point.

The final dish is all about local calamari, with unbelievably fresh sections of tube, wing and tentacle all pan-fried, while the trim and guts are used in making a potent black soup in which to bubble a mix of lentils, freekeh and leftover bits of charcuterie.

Think of the grains as a looser, more interesting risotto that, along with brassica leaves and a whole-lemon sauce, make this plate a certainty to make a list of the year’s best moments.

Dessert is extra but a gooey-centred burnt bread tart is a moment of genius and will have you pondering whether it contains cocoa or treacle. The answer is neither.

In fact, you could skip everything else and head up to Thelma for coffee and cake alone.

It would mean missing something pretty special but I’m sure the chef won’t be offended.