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A snack is a small portion of food eaten between meals, designed to stave off hunger until you have the real thing. In reality, however, snacks beat the real thing hands-down.

So father-and-son duo Maurice and Sylvester Terzini are onto something with their new Snack Kitchen. It couldn’t be more different to Icebergs Dining Room & Bar or Bistro George in town. That’s where you go for meals at meal times.

This is where you go when you don’t want that straitjacket; when you want to eat something light but interesting at a time that suits you, not them.

And guess what? Snack Kitchen is filled with snackers at 4pm. Again, at 6pm, at 9pm and at 10.30pm.

It’s not just the food that’s snacky; it’s the way you can use the place.

So far, I’ve dropped in late for a glass of wine and chunks of 24-month-old parmigiano reggiano drizzled with balsamic vinegar; been in for dinner straight from work, and turned up once again during a lull between waves of diners at 8pm.

The corner space on Macleay Street – last home to Morgan McGlone’s Sunday – will be here for at least 12 months. It’s come up nicely after being seemingly dipped in a can of white paint. Walls, counters, stools, tables and bentwood chairs: all white. White lines of light thread the ceiling. Floor staff, wrapped in white aprons, bring small plates and white napkins.

The stemmed glasses are one-size-fits-all – for water (Santa Vittoria $7.50), wine, beer and cocktails.

Look around and you’ll see chef Jarrard Martin (Bar Grazie, Uccello, Mary’s Underground) in the open kitchen, head down, focused and fast. At the bar by the window, Icebergs mixologist Ana Page (aka Miss Martini) is swizzling vermouth on ice or pouring wine.

A long, handwritten sheet of brown paper hangs on one wall listing bottles from the producer of the month, Tyrrell’s. And that’s pretty much it, apart from a trail of hand-painted blue roses against the white, for all the world like a woodwork tattoo.

So let’s snack.

Most of the small dishes are what Italians call companatico, or ideal with bread, here, crusty baguette with spreadable butter ($7). Heirloom tomatoes ($18) draped with Olasagasti anchovies and sliced green olives. Freshly sliced LP’s mortadella ($12) touched with the sting of chilli oil. It’s like raiding the fridge at midnight.

Beef carpaccio ($22) is layers of paper-thin grass-fed tenderloin, coated with the same rich lemony mayonnaise from Harry’s Bar, Venice – the thinking being that you can’t do better than the original. Briny capers and basil add nuance.

It’s not all parochially Italian – the Spanish get a look-in with a beautifully made tortilla ($14), a fat wedge of layered potato captured in rich omelette.

Of the piatto di mezzo, referring to the traditional “middle” dishes, the ones between courses, polpetti are nicely dense, somewhat salty meatballs ($22) of wagyu beef and pork, teamed with a small fennel salad.

It’s also good to see those long, flat Roman beans ($18) get into the act, but the pairing, with chickpeas and warm ricotta, isn’t special.

Fritto misto ($24) is a winner, a golden tumble of whitebait, calamari and small curls of sweet prawns, with a spoonful of sauce gribiche, chunky with hard-boiled egg.

Wines by the glass aren’t listed, so a chat with sommelier/co-owner Sylvester is required to uncover a crisp, clean glass of Cascina del Prete “Luet” Roero Arneis, from Piedmont ($17/$95). It would be easier to just list them, sure, but then everyone would miss out on the human interaction. And that’s what Snack Kitchen seems to run on.

Dolci could be an affogato of vanilla bean ice-cream doused with Vittoria Coffee espresso and a slug of Brookie’s divine Mac (macadamia) liqueur ($18).

No rules, no bookings, no requirements. Just fast, fun and familiar food, good times, and a sense of this is how things could be, and probably should be.