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Small details tell you a lot about a restaurant. At Mr & Mrs P, a bayside bar and eatery, I noticed two little things that shone a bright light on the care that drives this seven-year-old, family-owned business.

The first was a hook on the wall above my table from which hung the drinks list, a handsome document with timber backing. If there had been no hook, I wouldn’t have given it a thought – who could have a problem with a menu sitting on a table? – but its presence is a positive, keeping the dining surface uncluttered and meaning you’re never left wondering what you might sip next. Make mine a Little Miss Spritz with vodka, bubbles, elderflower, pear and rosemary, please.

The second detail that impressed was the keen eye of our waiter. They were friendly from greeting to goodbye, and could answer questions with ease. Observation is the element of service that seems hardest to teach and is also the most frustrating when it’s lacking. Staff here noticed empties, suggested an extra dumpling to round out a serve, swiftly replaced a dropped napkin and did it all smoothly and with warmth.

Chef Stina Park runs a snacky, flexible menu that works for quick bites, post-work meals and long, fond catch-ups. Signature prawn dumplings are sweet and pert with zingy ginger dressing. There’s always kingfish crudo, right now with fermented chilli salsa.

Seasonal greens come with fior di latte and dill breadcrumbs, and pork belly is topped with black pudding sprinkle.

Dessert theatre arrives with the lime posset (pudding) in a waft of liquid nitrogen vapour.

Who are Mr and Mrs P? Georgia and Greg Poliwodzinski met 17 years ago when he took over her favourite cafe and flummoxed her by changing the smashed avo recipe. “Who is this cute guy upending my breakfast?” she wondered. Fast forward 10 years, and Mr & Mrs P is the business they crafted, bringing together his food expertise and her years working in nightclubs and bars.

Hospitality people through and through, this venue is the Ps’ investment in a belief that rich, perfect moments are forged over food and drink in conducive environments. There’s live music in the street-level bar, a cosy dining room and function spot upstairs, and outdoor seating.

One encounter sums up the heart of the place. Recently, an older man became a solo regular, sipping a glass of red. Eventually, he shared his story: widowed after 65 years, this was where he reconnected with community.

“It’s a special place you have here,” he said. Mrs P cried, understandably, but I hope she also felt satisfied.

Restaurants welcome people as they find them, but if they leave souls a little
sunnier, they’ve more than done their job.