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How is this chicken so delicious? That’s the question I can’t stop asking myself. Then I realise I’m not the best person to grill about the beguiling dish in front of me. Its cook, Helena Setargew, is right here and she can tell me what’s going on. “I cook it with love from the bottom of my heart,” she tells me, before going on to share intel about the five kilos of onions she stirs over two days in a gentle coaxing of sweetness, softness and deep, dark colour.

There’s garlic and ginger, too, plus clarified fenugreek butter and berbere (an East African spice blend with chilli, pepper, allspice and more). Later, drumsticks marinated in olive oil and herbs are roasted before being submersed in the spiced onion gravy; boiled eggs are stirred through at the end.

The rundown on ingredients and method all makes sense, adding up to doro wot ($30), a signature stew from Ethiopia and Eritrea but, honestly, I think it’s the love that makes this rendition stand out. Love shines through in the slow, careful cooking, the deft spicing, the easy collapse of the meat, the perfect glisten on the sauce.

We’re at Sinq, a humble Ethiopian restaurant where sisters Helena Setargew, Eleni Wonde and Aster Wonde, plus Aster’s husband, Ephrem Solomon, have been working non-stop for a year to build their family business. They cook Ethiopian dishes you can find in dozens of Melbourne dining rooms, but with uncommon deftness and detail, and a warm, generous spirit.

Kale and beef are sauteed to make gomen besiga ($25): the meaty richness comes through at the end, but what hits you first is the slinky seduction of the butter that coats the greens.

Ayib ($10) is a cheese made here from boiled yoghurt curdled with lemon, then strained and mixed with verbena to make crumbly, fragrant curds.

Love shines through in the slow, careful cooking, the deft spicing, the easy collapse of the meat, the perfect glisten on the sauce.

Brown lentils ($20) are stirred with devoted attention to make a sturdy stew with every pulse intact. If you’re prepared to see the art in risotto, you must also see it here.

Tibs is an onion, tomato and meat stir-fry; Sinq’s lamb version ($23) balances firm fillet and juicy tomato punctuated with joyful tickles of green chilli.

I’ve been fond of porridge ever since Grandma read Goldilocks and the Three Bears to me, but genfo ($23) turned me into a raving fan. Made with a blend of barley, oats, teff and other grains, and topped with spicy berbere butter, it’s a sure way to associate porridge with rapture.

The best way to try this very shareable food is as part of a combination meal, either vegan ($25) or with meat ($35). You’ll get spoonfuls of each stew over injera, a signature flatbread, with more injera rolled up and arranged on the platter like clock-hands telling you it’s time to eat.

Every Ethiopian restaurant serves this bread, but it’s rare that it’s made in-house and unusual that it’s made completely from teff, a native East African grain. Sinq is doubly exceptional in that the family sources Australian-grown teff and uses it to craft their injera from scratch.

This isn’t an easy process at the best of times, but the depths of a Melbourne winter make it even harder to ferment the batter. Setargew – big sister and chief cook – sometimes lights charcoal to encourage yeasty bubbling. The effort is worth it: her injera is sour, nutty and spongy, a real treat.

The bread is a utensil as well as nourishment: you tear little pieces and use them to scoop up your food. This can be a learning curve, but don’t worry about making a mess.

If you usually restrict your coffee intake to mornings, it’s worth breaking all rules for the coffee ceremony here. Ethiopia is, after all, the original home of coffee and these siblings know exactly what they’re doing. Beans are roasted, ground and brewed in front of you, then served with appropriate reverence. Tenadam (also known as rue) is one of numerous culinary herbs grown here in a pavement planter: put a sprig in your coffee for extra flavour.

Some restaurants get more attention than others but the more I write about food, the more I realise you can open just about any door to any kitchen in Melbourne and come upon people cooking with special touches, bucket-loads of care and an abiding belief in the power of hospitality.

This 30-seat shopfront isn’t fancy, but the food is colourful, tasty and inexpensive, and every dish has an extra dollop of pride. I’ve never been so happy to have that Sinq-ing feeling.

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine