Kafenieon restaurant review 2024

This late-night Greek feeder pulls out all stops to keep the vibes high and food and drink rightly delicious.

Greek restaurant Kafeneion has woven its way into Melbourne’s dining fabric.

After many visits to Kafeneion, I’m sure of this.

It’s always busy, but you’ll get a seat.

There’s no restaurant critic magic being played here, either. All reviews are anonymous, booked under different names, numbers and credit cards, so there’s no heads up to the restaurant.

But on the ad hoc visits over the last few months, even if its packed to the rafters, staff seem to make it their mission to fit you in. And it’s not just to me, with one impromptu mate having the neighbouring events space whipped into a long-table dinner setting quicker than you can say xinomavro!

The fava bean dip is warm like Santorini sunshine. Picture: David Caird

You must try the spanakopita if you see it on the menu. Picture: David Caird

So what’s the appeal?

Kafeneion (said: cafe-neon) isn’t a new restaurant. There’s no mega-millions fit out, celebrity chef attached to the grill, pretentious or picky food.

To me, this place is a portal of Melbourne’s dining yesteryear, somewhere that not only looks like it’s been around forever (in a charming, not ratty, way), but feels like it too.

In reality, this restaurant has only been open since February.

Arguably the King of Spring St Con Christopoulous (Siglo, The European) and business partner Stavros Konis had a decent run-up to get the wheels in motion.

They first tested the waters with a Kafeneion pop-up in Bourke Street (now home to Con’s and Victor Liong’s new Brazilian-Japanese sushi train Bossa Nova), which was so popular it became a permanent fixture at the Melbourne Supper Club this year.

Sweetbreads, tastes like a cleaner version of popcorn chicken. Picture: David Caird

Chicken and Greek pasta. Picture: David Caird

The chef is executive chef Fellipe Mezzavilla (formerly Salona and Teatro) and he’s cooking traditional, soul-warming eats from Con and Stavros’ family cookbooks for dinner, supper for some super soups and wee-hour snacks until the doors close at 4am.

You may start the table with a procession of snacks: dips and bread from Greek-run Atlanta Bakehouse, electric tzatziki ($16) or taramasalata ($19, cod roe; the white one, obviously), or fava bean dip ($19) made from yellow split peas warm like Santorini sunshine in body and spirit.

Sweetbreads ($26) the elusive mystery meat (ahem, lamb thyroid gland) is given the fast food treatment, floured and flash-fried, to taste like a cleaner version of popcorn chicken.

Though spanakopita ($22) is a must if you see it on the specials board: a perfectly flaky coil of filo pumped with crumbly feta and spinach. A classic for a reason.

The classic slow-roasted lamb and potatoes. Picture: David Caird

The braised pork neck is surprisingly supple. Picture: David Caird

The specials board is where Fellipe’s talent and creativity shines, especially with that Ekmek Kataifi ($16) custard and whipped cream dessert, marking the best end to a Greek feast.

Maybe you’ll stick to what you know with the slow roasted lamb shoulder ($38 small/ $49 large), teamed with spuds and oregano, or the surprisingly tender braised pork neck ($32/$42) wading in a lemon-charged sauce.

Though the chicken orzo pasta ($27/$39) or “kastelorizo” from Stav’s grandad’s island, drinks in a glorious broth spiked with sweet paprika and cinnamon that feels just like yiyayas.

Though almost every dish feels like this, right down to the ‘chips’ ($16) which are a true reflection of what ‘hand cut’ chips should look like: fat potato fingers, skin on and fried in olive oil until just crisp.

If you’re just here for a drink, there’s enough to get by.

Kafeneion; a rare find in our city’s eating ecosystem. Picture: David Caird

Classic and signature cocktails, Alfa beer (and a zero proof Fix), alongside litres of vino suiting all from novice to supernerd drinkers. Carafes of house red and white for the quashers, local and Greek pours by the glass and deeper look at the region’s main grape players come bottle time. A Coravin list, chalked on the dining room blackboard, lets you try 100ml nips of hard to find or back vintage drops — often for the same price as the standard BTG wines.

And if all else fails, there’s plenty of ouzo and tsipouro to go around. Not that you’ll need it.

Time alone at Kafeneion is an intoxicating experience, and truly a rare find in our city’s eating ecosystem.