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Sometime around 2005, wood-fired pizza became the default accessory to a tasting paddle of beers. Craft breweries – endlessly creative with what they put in their beer – began to feel like a hall of mirrors when it came to their menus. Get harissa lamb ribs over here, but harissa lamb skewers at a rival beer hall. This one skips chicken tenders, instead you get buffalo chicken ribs. Would you like your fried calamari with lemon or lime?

Benchwarmer, a West Melbourne craft beer hangout, breaks that mould. It’s not a brewery but it sure gets behind them, which must be a godsend for struggling independent brewers right now. Since opening in an old Victorian terrace in February 2020, it’s gradually grown more Japanese-focused with each change of chef and trip to Japan taken by owner Lachlan Jones. The front half holds a few blond wood communal tables and stools (very Japandi), cosy window seats, a small bar and a big beer fridge. The back half is a bit more grungy.

New chef Geoff Marett has a CV that makes a lot of sense for a venue that’s striving to be an izakaya: the loud and loose Japanese joints where food is there to soak up the copious sake and beer slammed down.

He’s cooked at a whisky bar in Japan, grew up between Melbourne and Hong Kong, and spent five years at Hong Kong’s Yardbird, a buzzy yakitori spot that might be the most famous place outside Japan for skewers of charcoal-grilled chicken. Since returning here, he’s run Nama Please pop-ups, including at Collingwood bar Paradise Alley.

I had one of the juiciest pieces of crumbed chicken of my life at Benchwarmer, a katsu of thigh resting on a sweet and gently spicy pool of Japanese curry gravy. Marett makes it with the boxed Japanese curry cubes, chicken stock and coconut cream – a high-low move that feels right for such a casual venue. His skill in handling meat is clear: charred pork jowl is equally tender, despite being cooked hard enough to get a decent crust.

Crumpets have been appearing on fine-dining menus for the past few years, but I’ve never had one like this. Sliced in half, it has a toffee-like shell due to being deep-fried, while the inside remains chewy and springy. It’s a bit like those Old El Paso boxes that include the soft and hard tacos – why not both? Piled on top are strands of rich and saucy lamb shoulder, cooked for four hours in a master stock until nearly jammy. A swish of labneh on the crumpet and a pinch of pickles help balance those big flavours (just).

Marett’s food is brash and bold. He loves to dial up the sweetness and then match that with salty elements, and cleverly deploys several different pickled, spicy or umami ingredients in a single dish. It’s perfect drinking food, but you don’t need much of it. Or maybe you just need more drinks (and a side of the yuzu-sesame cucumber salad).

Ordering as you go (via QR code or by walking up to the bar) is my tip. On one visit, I ordered everything at once, treating it like a restaurant, and all the food came out quickly, meaning many dishes were not eaten in their prime. The second time around I learnt from my mistake and went for a dish or two with each order of drinks.

The menu lists suggested beer pairings, a nice touch given the overwhelming choice: 18 taps plus a five-door fridge with cans and bottles. Or you can go to the bar and ask the ridiculously friendly staff for advice. I was steered towards Jones’ own Oishii yuzu-rice lager, which felt like a sales tactic but made sense in the glass. It was crisp and clean enough for salmon “tostadas” (actually fried wonton wrappers), and able to stand up to the salt and crunch of the fish sando, a special styled on McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish.

There are also wines from up-and-coming producers doing fresh styles such as Unkel and Fin, plus highballs from whisky to tequila. Five different sakes, spanning crisp to complex junmai daiginjos (the pointy end of sake), tie the bow on the izakaya concept.

I thought it was a little odd that, with Marett’s training, the bar doesn’t offer any yakitori. It was part of Benchwarmer 1.0 and, when Marett was hired, it was declared Sundays would be for sticks. But after a few sellouts, the team decided not to continue due to the amount of prep required (the kitchen is not big), and Jones’ worry that people kept showing up on Sunday evenings to a cupboard stripped bare. (Those are all fair points, but I’d love to see them make it work. Few places in Melbourne do great yakitori.)

This little beer hall is a refreshing change for a genre of dining that needs some spark. Benchwarmer has too much going for it to be, well, a benchwarmer. Here’s hoping it gets its main character moment in this current iteration.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.