Little Known

An expedition of a few of Melbourne's little cafes.

By Thomas Feng

May 16^th, 2015

little rogue

“I’ll have the passionfruit & lemon meringue croissant muffin please.”

It’s a sunny Sunday morning and I’m hanging out with Lauren. She’s one of my best friends and I really admire her self-awareness and authenticity. I always find it incredibly strange to hear her stories and how she’s acted in a very similar manner when reacting to the same situations. Often I find myself thinking: “Am I looking at an older version of myself?”

Typically when we hangout we get strange looks for our fashion choices, mannerisms and general vibes. Haters gonna hate. We seek refuge today in a beautiful hidden cafe in Drewery Lane: Little Rogue. I’d read a few reviews about crepe cakes, down-to-earth customer service and relaxed vibes. Add in the clandestine location and I couldn’t resist.

From the outside, you’ll see a lone blue door and exposed bricks in an otherwise empty laneway. Inside await white walls, birch wooden floors and minimalist art pieces which make the interior a Scandinavian designer’s dream. It’s quiet and quaint: there’s a young family drawing together in the one corner as we enter and sit down.

We order our coffees and the croissant muffin (i.e. the cruffin). Oh fajitas. It’s literally the best pastry I’ve ever consumed.

Oh Little Rogue, how you warmly sneak your way into my heart with your cruffins and future promises of crepe cakes.

little mule

Brother Baba Budan lurks nearby and Manchester Press hides away in the next laneway, but Little Mule Cafe is a consistent, underrated hideout which delivers the goods without enduring the bustle.

Its decor is very on-trend. Minimalist white, rustic, industrial brick walls. Einstein pendant hanging lights drop from the ceiling. The menu is written on an adorning chalkboard. Flowers are in jars and salt, sugar and pepper are in milk bottles.

It’s a go-to study area for myself & Nathan (see my sneaky first photo on the left). I’ve munched on the rosemary & mushroom toastie as well as the breakfast bagel many a time, whilst Nathan always loves his “magic coffee” from there.

Write your story here. (Optional)

millstone

I’m hiding from the rain in a french pattiserie/cafe named Millstone and catching up with Issy, a fellow duckling from the 2013 Roadtrip. The lighting is appropriately dim for a Monday morning. The mood and vibe is warm, also appropriate for hangouts with warm, kind souls like hers. Booths with Gorman-esque pillows line the left. Grids of tessellating white run all over the floor and kitchen.

There’s a largely redundant ladder sitting next to the roll of brown paper where the specials and menu flow down. Freshly baked goods and cheese boards of decadence lay teasing on the pristine wooden benchtop on the right.

“Is that Caroline Wilson ordering coffee?”

No Issy, you may fool everybody with your Finnish-like looks but that is just a middle-aged woman not named Caroline Wilson ordering coffee from Malvern. We chat about life and all of the exciting/busy things that are to come.

Her gap-year journey to South America looms and I’m finishing uni at the end of the year. I consume a pricey but delicious brunch consisting of asparagus, sweet potato and poached eggs. Dreamy.