So you thought it was all over? It's not over. The pandemic, the weirdness, the uncertainty. Add the rookie error of heading out on the evening of the AFL grand final – aka the annual day Melbourne resembles the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse – and it's a sign of the times when we front up to Suzi Cheek's to find Katie Marron running a one-woman show after her two staff members have called in sick for the night.

Committed readers of Good Food will know the backstory, but for newcomers here's a recap. After nine years running Miss Katie's Crab Shack, a peripatetic institution that introduced Melbourne to the freewheelingly addictive qualities of the southern US crab boil, Marron saw the writing on the wall when the cost of crab topped $30 a kilo, turning po'man's food into a complete splash-out.

In a word: unsustainable. So in the spirit of the Grateful Dead's Keep on Truckin' playing over Suzi Cheek's sound system, Marron pulled the pin on Miss Katie's and after a 10-day whirlwind of elbow grease and reinvention debuted her new bistro to what thoroughly deserves to be a grateful local audience.

The crabby artefacts are gone, along with the bibs and the newspaper-covered tables and the Old Bay seasoning. But the easygoing vibe remains, despite the zhoush into something resembling a salon that will put a Fitzrovian of a certain age (by which I mean anyone who experienced the 'burb back in the '80s and '90s) into a spin of nostalgia over the reclaimed ethos pioneered by Henry Maas at The Black Cat and Night Cat.

The main room riffs on shades of royal blue, with vivid still lifes and lavishly cheeky art-directed photographs from the Queens of the Pub series by Gerard O'Connor and Marc Wasiak.

The button-cute back courtyard, facing west for the last of the afternoon sun, is a pale pink. It's a great place for the kind of occasion Suzi Cheek's is going for: a drop-in haunt where a late arvo spritz or mandarin martini can easily turn into dinner.

As for the menu, I admit it: the early press reeled me in. I was jonesing for the beef cheek lasagne, riched up by chicken livers, that the Italians know as vincisgrassi. Marron cooked it back during her time at Richmond's Grand Hotel (she's also chalked up her cheffy credentials with Matt Germanchis at Pandora's Box and at MoVida) and has anointed it as her rebooted signature dish. No dice, soz.

But before I have the chance to dissolve into a toddler temper tantrum over the pared-back menu that will allow Marron to be chef, waiter and dish pig for the evening, I find myself sitting at a high-top table, Foxey's sparkling rosé in hand and a serve of wakame popcorn to soothe any put-upon feelings of entitlement. A clever ruse to turn drinkers into eaters, it's a gateway drug to the rest of the menu: a finger-licking flavour bomb that has me rummaging around for the last salty nublets of dried seaweed.

So enough about what we can't have (sob!) and more about what we can. The snack menu leans into a Spanish vibe by dint of ingredients and execution. No more so than the jamon and mahon toastie, cut into fingers and served with a Basque tomato salsa, high on bright natural sweetness to cut through the fat.

Leek and mahon croquettes (two for $7) are fat golden orbs of tangy, salty ooze, the lack of explanation needed at complete odds with the level of satisfaction they engender.

Coffin Bay oysters ($5) are everything an oyster should be but too often aren't: obviously shucked to order, bracingly fresh and briny. On the side you get a chaser in triplicate, a red wine mignonette, fresh horseradish with a nostril-rattling authenticity, and a lime driven Thai-style number.

There are spicy patatas bravas ($12) and a spicier steak tatare ($24), which comes with an egg yolk cupped in its own shell and a big hand on the piquant bits and pieces that make it a perennial Melbourne power player.

And spring revs into gear with a plate of just-cooked asparagus ($18) and tiny soft-boiled quail eggs in a vivid slosh of salmorejo, the southern Spanish gazpacho-esque soup thickened with sourdough, finished with a flourish of crunchy breadcrumbs.

There's no quibbling Marron had to make her pivot (sorry) in these times of post-crab affordability.

But the new bistro format still allows her to shine, both in the kitchen and on the floor. She's one of the figures who'll give you the warm and fuzzies about the hospo scene. Brava.

Vibe Relaxed and easygoing, with the warmest service around

Go-to dish Leek and mahon croquettes

Drinks A zippy list of spritzes and fruit-forward cocktails, backed by a compact but interesting Australian and French wine list

Cost $90 for two, plus drinks