The first thing you notice on entering Charles Street Kitchen is a plate of strategically placed Nutella and caramel doughnuts. This immediately triggers a mental note: leave room for one of those. The racy green custom-painted espresso machine is also eye-catching, and the row of elegant bell-shaped lampshades hanging above the tables.

My friend and I are catching up for a chat. As soon as we sit down, water arrives in a slim glass carafe, coffee orders are taken and the chatting commences. The waitress patiently waits to take our food order, returning every so often to check on us. We eventually hit pause long enough to scan the all-day breakfast menu (lunch starts at 11am). It's hard to choose. A woman next to us is tucking into the green breakfast with poached eggs, kale, asparagus, broccoli, edamame, avocado and dukkah. It looks good, but when my friend realises it doesn't come with toast, she goes the whole hog with the King Charles brekky, which has so much on one plate it would take half this page to list it.

I waver between poached eggs with smashed avocado, quinoa tabbouleh, charred sweet corn, chilli oil and toasted sourdough, and eggs benedict with herbed zucchini and potato hash and house-smoked salmon. Hollandaise sauce tips the balance for benedict and the chatting resumes.

Husband and wife Calvin Cho and Mihwa Bae opened Charles Street Kitchen in May. Bae does front of house and Cho is in the kitchen with fellow chef Binh Pham; they have worked together for 14 years in fine dining, hotels and pubs. This is Cho and Bae's first place of their own and it shows in a good way, with careful attention to detail in the food and decor

The many elements of the King Charles breakfast, for instance, are arranged around a small pot of chutney-like goji berry jam, sweet and tangy and made by Cho. He also makes the rich, smoky baked beans with four kinds of beans and bacon he smokes himself. The hickory-smoked salmon is done here too – I'm expecting the usual thinly sliced smoked salmon with the eggs benedict, but am happy with a hefty chunk of delicately cooked pink fish. The free-range eggs are from a farm in the Hunter Valley and the bread is Sonoma.

The only thing I'm not sure about is the zucchini and potato hash, which doesn't hold together as well as toast, but it's a minor quibble. Everything I sample from my friend's plate – halloumi, chorizo, fat, juicy mushrooms fried with fresh thyme and oregano – is excellent, and pretty much all of it disappears, while the chat doesn't miss a beat.

The light, airy room is lined with whitewashed brick walls, white tiles with green details and old wooden floor boards. Despite the hard surfaces, there's an easy warmth to the place, with a touch of class. Jazz plays at just the right level in the background and Charles Street Kitchen is written in discreet white neon on the wall. Attractive blondwood salt and pepper grinders on each table match the attractive blondwood chairs.

We are momentarily distracted from our conversation by three small, well-dressed girls in highchairs who now occupy the neighbouring table with their mothers. Each has a fabulous pink milkshake in a jam jar, with a margarita-style rim of chocolate and hundreds and thousands, and a pink bendy straw. The girls are sticking their fingers in their drinks, and who can blame them? The mothers stop trying to discourage them and carry on with their own chatting.

And so a pleasant couple of hours go by in a trice, but suddenly our chat comes to a halt. We have forgotten a crucial detail: to leave room for the doughnuts. Or the strawberry tart Cho makes himself, or the chocolate brownie in the shape of a pie. We are so full we can't even contemplate take-away dessert. Curses. 

As we pay at the front counter, graced with orchids and cyclamens in pots, then chat for another 10 minutes on the pavement outside, the donuts linger in our peripheral vision. The writing is on the wall, like the white neon sign. We will be back for more chatting, and doughnuts, and one of those pink milkshakes. I can't promise I won't stick my fingers in it.

THE PICKS

King Charles brekky, children's milkshake and any of the homemade tarts

THE LOOK

Bright and Scandi-stylish

THE SERVICE

Friendly and patient

THE COFFEE

Mocopan