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Is there anything more delightfully doily-core than an egg devilled to order before your very eyes? Dressed in wood and warm light, this 35-seat bar could easily be called a restaurant – especially if you’re in the back room, where there’s warm table service.

Serious cooking chops are evidenced by pan-seared flathead in beef-and-prawn broth spiked with honey and dill. Meringue is made gratifyingly chewy with rye flour, then arranged as a mess with grapefruit marmalade.

Bellamy also has the mixological chops to put Melbourne’s best on notice. The Forget Me Not is a dignified coupe of whiskey, blueberry vermouth, amaro and absinthe fit for the most tortured of writers.

The wine list spruiks South Australia as often as France with interesting expressions of out-of-vogue varietals by the glass, all poured by staff hired as much for their knack as their knowledge.