Ruth Reichl, the former New York Times restaurant critic, was a guest on a local radio show a month or so ago. Among other topics, she talked about the disguises she wore to pass incognito on Manhattan reviewing missions – including dressing up as her own mother (at which point she slipped into character, voice-wise at least. We all turn into our mothers in the end.)

Melbourne isn't New York, and I'm no Ruth Reichl. My own kids don't notice me sometimes (Oh, wait. They're teenagers.) I'm just a middle-aged guy in a pullover, so it's quite easy for me to pass incognito on my own reviewing missions (Ruth – disguise tip).

Which is good. Like any average Ruth, I can be left waiting at the sign that says "Please wait to be seated" for some minutes before anybody notices me; I can, after finally seating myself, be left unnoticed at the head of an empty communal table while the waitperson, not noticing me, helps a group of new mums organise baby selfies. No biggie. I'm not about to go all bloggy about it – even when the menu that finally arrives is crumpled, slightly scribbled on and marked with a child's eggy fingerprints.

Because we're all here – in a one-time schoolhouse with a couple of blonde David Bromley babes gazing down on us from the walls – for the food, right? It's a selection of cafe breakfast and lunch standards with kooky names inspired by movie and TV characters: Ron and Hermione's muesli (cacao-rolled bukini, amaranth and coconut, peanut butter, tahini, agave syrup, coconut oil, chocolate almond milk, winter berries, as if they've raided the potions cupboard); Katniss Everdeen's Bircher; Doogie Howser's quinoa porridge, and so on.

Mr Miyagi's salmon is four or five large cubes of sashimi-style fish with a sweet tang from their brown sugar and citrus-juice curing, tumbled with wafer-thin slices of zucchini that have been grilled and dressed with a sprightly apple cider vinegar, all arranged around a nice wedge of savoury potato and leek hash. The accompanying poached egg and whipped goat's curd run into a proteiny mess that's studded with something crunchy like granola but not as sweet.

For lunch there's Finding Nemo spaghetti (with prawns, scallops and calamari) and salads like the Brandon Walsh, with balsamic baby beetroots, fennel, spinach and pumpkin; add protein in the form of sous vide chicken or pulled lamb.

The obligatory wagyu burger is called the Dan Bilzerian (I Googled him. Confusingly, he's an actor, not a TV character, though his Wiki entry makes him seem like one).

The burger arrives on a board with a side of chips that look like the ribs of a baby dinosaur, darkly golden outside and a teensy bit dry in. The burger is a 20-centimetre stack with a steak knife driven through its heart. The patty is thick, moist and pink in the middle, with a lick of grill smoke, the other flavours elemental: lettuce, tomato, "American" cheese that might be Monterey Jack (which movie is he in?) and a big onion ring.

The coffee is the Bayside blend from St Ali – 50 per cent Costa Rica, 50 per cent Brazil: a classic espresso formula that's nutty, toasty and 90 per cent-cocoa chocolatey. It's very tasty in a short black and robust enough to make a good flat white.

After the coffee and a chocolate brownie with swirls of peanut butter through it I probably could have been up and out the door before anyone saw me. But that would have been taking unnoticed too far.

THE LOW-DOWN
Do… Bring the littlies; there's a great playground out front.
Don't… Worry – the service is actually quite good.
Dish… Dan Bilzerian wagyu burger.
Vibe… Skinny double decaf with a twist.