There are a lot of ways a chef will signal a dish is ready to be collected from the pass. They might clap, they might ring a bell, they might yell. I've seen maracas, and a cowbell. But this place beats all. Standing at the open kitchen surrounded by twenty-odd burger patties sizzling away, is this chef who looks like Justin Townes Earle in an apron. He puffs himself up and belts out "can I get a witness?!" like a southern baptist priest at a tent revival.

So this is Paradise Road Diner - a new one for North Bondi, across the road from Bondi's Best, in that little cul-de-sac that also houses Joe and Willy's Depot and the Hill Eatery. It looks like an updated '50s diner; something you might find on a side street in West Hollywood, and faintly reminiscent in vibe of the 24-hour Clover Grill in New Orleans (which also happens to boast the best line I have ever seen on any menu: "we don't eat in your bed, so please don't sleep on our tables").          

You've got David Owen (ex-Icebergs) running the shop, making frosty malted chocolate milkshakes (served in the tin, as nature intended), conversing with a table of Italian guys (listening in, my menu Italian stretches as far as roughly translating "we don't have our liquor licence so you'll have to buy beer around the corner") and a brigade of chefs working at the bar slapping down burgers, slicing up pie and dousing waffles in syrup.

Oh yeah, those waffles. Big, fluffy carb rafts soaked in maple syrup loaded with hunks of crisp, juicy and perfectly seasoned fried chicken, spiced up with a blistered jalapeno. A side of coleslaw very coolly comes loaded with capers. And while candied yams (yams!) covered in toasted marshmallows has a certain WTF appeal, all that sweetness and squish is a little heavy-going.

They do a good burger, though, and while the the patty's fairly lean, it's still juicy. A firmer hand on the seasoning would take it from good to great.

More importantly, it's all about a bowl of classic Americana: the chilli. Tender pieces of beef make friends with a rich gravy, fragrant with chipotle, offering up a long dry burn. And I love the fact it sits in a big pot at the back of the burners like a frighteningly delicious spicy swamp. Finished with a squeeze of lime and sour cream, the corn cake on the side almost seems redundant.

Unlike the properly proper ice-cream sundae, with chocolate and vanilla ice-cream and crushed up mint slices all covered in chocolate sauce with whipped cream and a cherry on top.

It's a classic milk bar with Bondi leanings (since when did the words gluten-free and quinoa appear on a 1950s diner menu?). It's not hard to imagine rocking up after some serious beach time for a burger and a shake.

And when their licence comes through, you'll be able to add a shot of whisky on the side. You know the old saying: "I don't find trouble, trouble finds me."

Pro tip Bags an outdoor seat during the warmer months, or if the hubbub of the open kitchen is a little too much.

Try this The ice-cream sundae is nostalgia in a glass, with a cherry on top.