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All around Melbourne, people are looking at their local shopping centre, wishing someone would open a little bar, maybe where the milk bar or newsagent used to be. If the bar was there, the thinking goes, the lifestyle would surely follow. The afternoons would be a lazy stroll to spritz o’clock. The evenings would be footloose: can’t be bothered cooking, let’s slink to the bar. And the weekends would be spontaneous: how about a cheeky vino?

Aberfeldie, a hilly pocket west of Moonee Ponds, has been living the wine bar dream, ever since Carlo Mellini and Thomas Du opened their two-room 30-seat hangout in September.

You’re not going to stumble upon it, which is probably why Bar Brillo is quieter than it should be. Seek it out and you’ll be rewarded with good food, jaunty wine and friendly service, a combination that suggests all is right in the world, even when it isn’t.

Mellini’s Italian family ran a nostalgic espresso bar in this shop for four years, serving sweet treats from their Cannoli Bar in nearby Avondale Heights. Du worked at Cannoli Bar, learning the ropes and daydreaming with Carlo about the restaurant they’d have one day.

Maybe some kind of izakaya? A cool sandwich shop? Or – yes – a bar where the snacks change monthly and the wine mostly leans natural but is really just stuff we like.

Du cooks, Mellini manages and a small team keeps things humming. Bar stools look onto Du’s kitchen nook and the rear room feels upbeat but intimate. I can imagine coming back with a book, a date or a girl gang.

Whoever it is, we’ll start with olives, stuffed with soft ’nduja salami, then crumbed and fried to spicy magnificence.

Venison salami (from excellent Saison Smallgoods in Queensland) is heady with juniper and native strawberry gum. It’s dense and rich, served with pickled chillies in clever contrast.

There’s always house-made pasta, maybe tagliatelle with lamb ragu or spinach spaghetti with zucchini pesto.

The caponata has the blessing of Carlo’s mum Enza, who trusted Du with her recipe. He cooks down eggplant, zucchini and red peppers with tomatoes, olives and sultanas. It’s the sweet, slumping base for burrata touched with basil oil.

Though it sounds Italian, the idea is to broaden to a more diverse “Melbourne” menu: the broccolini with miso glaze is a gesture in that direction and Du is also finding his voice with variations on seafood crudo. I lucked onto kingfish, laid on an op-shoppy plate and topped with grilled peach slices, confident in the balance of sweetness, salt, char and brightness.

Brillo means “tipsy” in Italian and even if you’re on the non-alcs, it’s easy to feel giddy here, soaking up simple joys in a surprising space. The bar is here; all it needs is you, ready to live your best life.

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