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We like cheesecake. We love baklava. Surely it’s a genius notion for these two darlings to snuggle up in one dessert? That’s the thinking behind the baklava cheesecake at Taita’s Breakfast, a new Lebanese milk bar cafe in the backstreets of Thornbury. A sturdy biscuit base, smooth filling and a rubble of baklava are layered in a clever, crunchy, creamy mash-up.

It’s the brainwave of owner Xena Abbouchi, who will probably offer you an extra drizzle of syrup and sincerely seek your feedback. She cares what you think because Taita’s Breakfast is all about catering to the community.

That explains the $7 after-school snack packs. It’s why Abbouchi kept the retro drinks fridge: this isn’t really a milk bar any longer but if you’re stuck for the white stuff and can’t face the supermarket, she’s got you sorted.

It’s the reason she’ll stay open late on summer Fridays for hearty snacks and ice-cream: “No one can be bothered cooking at the end of the week.”

We could pretend the shelves of eclectic gifts – candles, bookmarks, biscuits, bags – are all about you as well, but they’re also an expression of Abbouchi’s passion for bric-a-brac. An inveterate shopper, she decked the cafe out via Facebook Marketplace.

Xena Abbouchi moved from car sales to hospitality after an inspiring trip to Tripoli, and she has just celebrated three years at her first restaurant, Taita’s Houseon nearby St Georges Road. That sweet hideaway features the unfussy but flavourful food of “taita” – grandmother in Arabic, and referring here to Xena’s mum, Amne.

Taita’s pastries, wraps and brunch bowls are the mainstay of the menu at this brunch offshoot, too.

The key dish is ful medames, a fava bean braise eaten throughout the Middle East. The Abbouchi kids grew up on it: breakfast, for sure, maybe lunch and sometimes dinner, too.

Sturdy but bright, Amne’s beans are joined by chickpeas, lemon, olive oil and an elegant sufficiency of garlic. Have it with pita or as part of a humble but satisfying platter with dips, house-cured green olives, pickles and cinnamon tea.

Other sharing options include a platter with scrambled eggs and Turkish sausage, and a version with handmade pastries filled with spinach, meat and cheese. There’s a solicitous generosity to the food, but it’s as homely as the setting: it’s about love not any gestures at cheffy brilliance.

Abbouchi’s espresso is good but to get in the spirit, you’ll want Lebanese coffee. There’s some protocol: newbies will be cautioned to wait before pouring their coffee from a pot into a dainty glass.

The inky brew is bitter but she’d prefer you don’t add sugar. “Have a sweet with it instead,” she urges. “You want to taste the coffee.”

That sounds like an exhortation to eat baklava cheesecake, a very good idea indeed.