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If you’ve spent any time eating and drinking in the Adelaide Hills recently, you’ll know the particular magic of that area’s new-wave hospitality. Venues tend to be intimate and specific – labours of love. Menus are small, drinks lists are local, the connection to the surrounding landscape and the growers and winemakers and producers is personal. Servers can tell you about the woman who made your cheese, the dude who grew the grapes for your wine, the cows who gave their lives for your dinner, without any of the pious pretension that might turn this into a scene from Portlandia.

I am reminded of the Adelaide Hills and its lovely, relaxed intimacy every time I visit Whitebark, a tiny sliver of a wine bar in West Melbourne.

Run by Sandra Petrovski and Josh Upton, with the help of chef Dion Allen, Whitebark opened quietly last year just a couple of tram stops up Victoria Street from the Vic Market.

There’s a bar that runs the length of the front room and a small seating area in back, whitewashed walls with shelves full of colourful bottles, and a blackboard menu with snacks, cheeses, and a short list of more involved small plates.

Petrovski’s welcome is so warm it feels like instant friendship, which makes sense since the couple say they opened the place mainly for “locals and mates”. I’m not sure I’d have ever heard about it if not for one of those locals sending me an endorsement. “What makes this place truly special is the incredibly warm and personal service you get from the owners,” my tipster wrote. She’s not wrong.

So much so that when I contacted them to organise photos, their main worry was that the attention a review might attract could ruin the quiet, neighbourly ease of the operation.

So let me be clear: I adore this place, but it’s small, it’s as DIY as it gets, and when the room gets full you’ll wait a bit for service and food.

It’s also the type of place that, if it’s for you, those things won’t matter. You’ll likely have a delicious glass of wine in your hand, which has been affectionately explained by Petrovski or Upton, the light will be lovely, the people around you will be happy, the food will arrive eventually.

It’ll be pretty good when it gets there, too. The menu is a collaboration between Allen and the two owners, and there’s a collaborative aspect to the way these three work with growers, as well.

The nightly salad ($9) is a mix of whatever their friends at Tumpinyeri Growers in Central Victoria send along that day, and much of the menu is made up of dishes driven by what local farmers have on offer, letting the produce take the lead rather than the ideas (and egos) of the cooks.

Meat is all sustainable. There’s a kangaroo tartare ($17) that’s supple and mustardy, served with chips, and the steak ($21) – the only thing on the menu over $20, or really even close to $20 – is from Lakey Farm, where they butcher a single retired dairy cow every few weeks. There’s no more, no less: the supply is what it is.

I’ve had this steak twice at Whitebark, and the taste and texture – always deep, sometimes chewy – has varied greatly depending on, well, the cow it came from. What hasn’t varied is the intense prickly and sweet pepperberry sauce it comes in, which would be overwhelming if not for the depth of flavour of the meat.

Let me be clear: I adore this place, but it’s small, it’s as DIY as it gets, and when the room gets full you’ll wait a bit for service and food.

Chicken bits are also usually on offer, most recently hearts or livers. Last week, the livers ($10) were cooked quickly and perfectly in a sherry glaze then served over sliced egg and a creamy gribiche that added a wonderful mustard kick.

South Australian clams ($10) are served in a fragrant seafood broth perfumed with coriander and star anise. Garfish fillets ($13) come in a sweet pepper sauce, full of tiny but edible bones. Again, the sustainability and local access to the fish is the main priority in sourcing.

Ask where the tomatillos come from for a plate of apple cucumbers with tomatillos and dill ($14) and someone’s parents’ garden will get the credit. Ask about a bottle on the back bar, and there will be a story about a visit to the producer, the ways they grow their botanicals, the chickens and vegies on the property.

Whitebark isn’t a destination, and it’s not trying to be one. It’s here for the neighbourhood, and to showcase the food and drink made possible by a wider Victorian community of like-minded producers.

That said, it’s a lot closer than the Adelaide Hills, and if I wanted to bask in that particular form of welcome and camaraderie, I’d absolutely cross town to eat and drink at this peculiar and charming gem of a restaurant.