Cracking the neighbourly-yet-worldly formula takes a small miracle in tourist towns. Ipsos,then,must have been blessed by a deity. Waiters know when to slide in and ask locals about their latest holiday before waltzing over to the door to find a table for an out-of-town couple.

Salty,just-seared kefalograviera cheese is cut into slabs,joined by jammy preserved figs and rushed to diners with advice to eat it while it’s hot. Long threads of flash-fried calamari come from Lorne or Queenscliff,their freshness echoed in a glass of volcanic-soil assyrtiko from northern Greece.

And the aroma of just-squeezed oranges wafts from sweet patsavoura,the custard and filo tart,to nearby tables. The minimalist room is saved from austerity by playful murals and a lighting scheme that could win Oscars.

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Western Victoria

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