In praise of small town cafes

Heaven knows, they are few and far between. Once I find a cafe in small-town Australia, I frequent it whenever I pass through town. Great coffee, quirky menu items and friendly staff... a simple recipe for return customers.

Here's a list of a few recent experiences:

Keith - great name for a town. Claiming to be the 'lucerne capital of Australia', it's 225 kilometres south-east of Adelaide and has a population of just over one thousand. And those in the know were munching down big sunday breakfasts at the Henry and Rose Cafe when I last passed through. Good coffee, and the friendly waitress added an extra slice of raisin toast because she considered the two slices too thin. And a mint with my flat white! My uncle Keith would have been proud.

Mount Gambier on a sunday has all the verve and excitement of a funeral directors conference. 'So this embalming fluid lasts an extra hundred years?'

We thought the Whistling Cat Cafe was an op-shop when we first walked in. Racks of second-hand tat, shelves of old-fashioned lollies, mismatched furniture and an owner with a booming laugh. We had delicious toasted panini and good coffee, served while we sat in old armchairs with a view of main street, where gloomy men in top hats and evening wear walked ponderously behind a hearse.

Port Macquarie has a lot of old people who retired here from Mount Gambier before those glum men got their gloved hands on them. Doris, Edith, Ernie and Stan prefer Lipton to short blacks, but I'd recommend Casualties Cafe (it's in the old ambulance station) to everyone. A dreadlocked waiter brings me an excellent toasted sandwich and piccolo while I read about his skateboard coffee-delivery runs in the newspaper clipping pasted to the wall. Just up the road is the Corner Cafe/Restaurant who use Campos coffee, and served me a lovely Confit Duck Maryland for dinner. And side salad of Ricardoes Tomatoes. And local goats cheese with vinocotto. And a five layer chocolate cake... I was hungry that night.

Which brings me to my favourite cafe in a very small town which many of you would never have heard of, and probably have little reason to pass through. The dot on the map in question is Adelaide.

The fabulous Red Door Bakery is in suburban Croydon and does some serious Bourke-Street Bakery channelling with it's designer sausage rolls (pork and sage; lamb and moroccan eggplant), creme brulee and sour dough bread. If you're ever in Adelaide, stop here for lunch. Oh yeah, and bring your bicycle... Adelaide is the bike capital of Australia.

Great Ocean Road Cycle - Day Three

Lorne to Apollo Bay. Two hours of cycling in the morning before most of the (four-wheel) tourist traffic wakes. Time enough to take a few photos, so I'll let them do the talking for my final day on the Great Ocean Road.

And, to celebrate the end of my ride, Lorne hosted the Sculpture by the Sea.

Great Ocean Road cycle - Day Two

I hereby appoint myself President of the 'Change the name of Lavers Hill to Lavers Mountain' committee, after spending the better part of an hour cycling up to said village. Day Two started at Port Campbell with rain and south-west winds. Not even the joy-riding helicopters were taking off! After a quick photo-op at Loch Ard Gorge and the Twelve Apostles, it was a left-turn inland and a twenty-kilometre climb to Lavers Mountain (yes, I know).

Hills don't attract mist, mountains do, okay! After a slog through the rain and mist, I had a delicious lentil burger and signed up most of the townfolk to my new committee - it seems the locals prefer the idea of a mountain home.

It was still raining, but I didn't care. Downhill all the way to Apollo Bay, I assumed. Oops. Downhill was fun, even in the wet. Thankfully the four-wheel-drives kept their distance. From Glenaire to Hordern Vale was a serene cycle through a sheep-meadow valley. And then another long climb to just above Apollo Bay. My Garmin was telling me I'd climbed 1,477 metres today, my knees were saying 'double it, Buddy.'

After ninety-seven kilometres, the rain stopped, the sun came out and Apollo Bay welcomed me with the toot of a truck horn... although he could have been warning me to get out of the way. I waved happily. The apartment manager wondered why I was so wet when I checked in? I smiled, 'It's always raining on Lavers Mountain.'