I know it's a sycophantic real estate agent's phrase but -- location, location, location. Sure, it's a 'partially obstructed view' but it's also a 'fixer-upper' that's 'freeway close'. In other words, you're pretty sure the house has a view of the neighbours fence, more-or-less has four walls a roof and a floor, but also the fact the sound of traffic will soothe you to sleep each night -- it's a first homebuyers dream!
I can only imagine the kind of fluff the real estate agents were blossoming during the sale of the lease here. But enough about real estate. Food time. I suppose the preface above was to highlight a place that, beyond the threshold of the cafe, seems at odds with the surroundings (or maybe not?). Pearfect Pantry it's called. Complete with the kawaii misspelling.
The Pantry's food is modern Australian with all kinds of curious adventures occuring beyond the IKEA Expedit used divide cafe and kitchen. Savoury goats cheese and fig tart, chicken and bacon baked risotto, white chocolate and blueberry cupcakes. The list could be a stock-ticker at the bottom of a foodies' thoughts. The shelf holds jumbo bibliothèque enough to make any chef touretically intense. This is where the kitchen plucks recipes and pulls them together under no real Ramseyesque theatrics.
This cafe is of the same league you'd find along Beaufort and Oxford St except it's a little cheaper, because you have to travel from the city core.
Yahava is the coffee poured and while I haven't had a knee-bucklingly good brew, I haven't had an immolated one either.It's that maxim -- location, location, location. I've been there to see an ad hoc approach to feeding afternoon tummy-rumbles. Another batch of muffins crust out of their cases because the last ones 'went like hotcakes'. Pearfect has a shabby-chic direction in its feel, with the decor appearing as though it was convincingly taken from curb-side collection. Unmatched plates, IKEA coffee mugs, old chairs that creakily struggle with normal loads.
The cafe is located in the complex of Moondyne Gardens. The 1970s monolithic brown-bricked housing complexes that flank the cafe, are either ecstasy or doom depending on how like your architecture. Walk past the bore-stained signage, past the equally as old, bore-stained laundrobar and your nose will probably pick up a heavenly concoction underway at the pantry. Has pearfect potential.