Behind its unassuming shopfront and white-trimmed front door, Milkwood is a compact-come-cosy space where loyal locals seek nourishment from a menu sporting everything from hotcakes and house-made lamingtons to sautéed mushrooms and lunch baguettes stuffed with punchy flavour combinations.
With a Brunswick postcode, it wasn’t unexpected that Milkwood’s staff had a laid-back, nonchalant vibe as they scurried about delivering lattes and clearing tables. What we hadn’t anticipated however, was staff who offered no greetings, no smile and no acknowledgement of their new customers for ten minutes. Not a particularly warm first impression. The twiddling of our thumbs had one small upside: taking in Milkwood’s farmstead fit out. Think a soaring pitched barn-roof, white washed brick walls, splashes of green detailing and shelves laden with baked goods and preserves made on-site.
Having read titterings of Milkwood’s broad bean smash – with pea, mint and poached eggs – any breakfast brooding was cut short. Slathered over two slices of garlicky, toasted-to-perfection sourdough was a thick blanket of crushed peas and mashed-to-a-pulp broad beans. The smash was smooth, creamy and studded with pea halves; though not the most attractive colour – perhaps from the use of canned peas rather than frozen or fresh – the dullish green contrasted nicely with the crisp white eggs. I would have liked a hint of mint in the smash, rather than just as garnish, to add a zingy burst. My googs were also overcooked with only a dribble of yolk spilling onto the pea-y paste when popped; a stream of rich, oozy yolk would have melted into the smash, adding a gooey, sauce-like boost to the topping and given the dish a oomph that it took it from nice to cracking.
Mother’s breakfast was plucked from the same kettle of fish as Daughter’s: warm cannellini bean and rosemary mash, topped with slices of soft green avocado and sprigs of parsley. A liberal smear of the chunky spread lay languidly over two slices of sourdough with dark flecks of rosemary speckled through the bashed beans. The strong, pungent herb dominated the dish, overpowering the cannellinis and swamping the palate. No other element on the dish – the lemon oil, avocado, parsley – could compete with the rosemary; Mother commented that such herby heavy-handedness would best suit a roast dinner, not a breakfast. A wedge of lemon, a handful of leafy rocket or something that could have stood up against the rosemary would have made the breakfast less of a one-flavoured affair.
Straight from the Mother Before I’d even had my first bite, Milkwood had put a bad taste in my mouth – and it had nothing to do with the food. Perhaps the staff had forgotten their glasses the morning we visited; how else can you explain three servers ignoring two customers, sitting smack-bang in the middle of the small, and definitely not full, café, for ten minutes? I wasn’t particularly taken with anything from Milkwood’s menu and although my final choice wasn’t dreadful, it was underwhelming. Any future inklings of returning to Milkwood will be swiftly squashed – I still have the chills from the icy reception our last sojourn received.
Milkwood
120 Nicholson Street, Brunswick East
(03) 9380 4062
Mother Says 