It’s Tuesday lunchtime in Melbourne and I’m having trouble getting a table at Pope Joan. The dining room is abuzz. Workmates are gathered around a marble table, each of them unwrapping a Reuben sandwich. A solo woman taps merrily on a laptop with a hot buttered rum: she’s an advertisement for living one’s best life. Paris-end shoppers take a load off to load up on a “super bowl” that makes quinoa look like a treat.

A chandelier casts a sheen across golden wallpaper and though there’s plenty of chatter, the dining room’s carpet keeps the volume to happy hubbub.

Apparently, rumours of the death of the city have been greatly exaggerated. There are people, they are spending, and they look like they’d do it all again tomorrow.

My vicious side eye forces a couple of lunch daters to finish their macchiatos and re-enter the urban fray; their table is reset for me and now I’m part of the lunch rush, too.

So let’s eat: the food is generous, confident, wide-roaming and delicious. Seaweed crisps are a spin on Korean gimbugak: nori is battered with rice flour then fried to make “crackling”.

Chef Bente Grysbaek celebrates her Danish heritage with the smorrebrod open sandwich, baking dark rye and topping it with roast beef and pickle remoulade.

Vegetables are treated with reverence: corn is dried then ground to create a textured polenta that’s jazzed up with chorizo. It’s outstanding.

Broccoli is the charred hero of a vegan main that’s bolstered with cashew paste and curry oil.

The Sofitel is just upstairs and the five-star setting is hat-tipped with the Waldorf Astoria salad, a lively slaw with apple, celery, walnut and grapes.

Pope Joan has a backstory. Its first incarnation was in Brunswick East between 2010 and 2018 under the stewardship of accomplished chef Matt Wilkinson. It called itself a cafe and for sure, it served eggs and sangers but it pushed smart, ethical restaurant-quality food in a casual daytime setting.

This city iteration, open since 2019, is even fancier than the original. The prices, let’s be frank, stretch beyond cafe territory, too. Barramundi with pipis and lemon myrtle cream for $46 isn’t something you’d find alongside your regular cup of chino. It’s not a shaft though: refusing to cut corners is costly.

The menu pays homage to Pope Joan’s heritage, not only with the Reuben and a famous chicken sandwich named for food writer Richard Cornish, but also with the rice pudding, a favourite of Brit-chef Wilkinson and still excellent in the hands of the Dane.

There’s more Pope Joan to come. Owner Dave Mackintosh (Lee Ho Fook and IDES are also in his portfolio) is opening two outlets in Melbourne Airport’s Qantas terminal. If you want a Reuben while you wait for a red-eye to Rockhampton, this Pope has you sorted.