Before the big supermarkets and gourmet grocers, back in the days of delicatessens and milk bars, it only took a minute to find your nearest corner store, no matter your suburb. A short walk to your local would have you ordering double cut rolls while slurping on a freshly made milkshake and piling fistfuls of mixed lollies into paper bags. Your only limit was the number of cents jingling in your pockets.
Over the last few decades these corner shops and local grocers have all but disappeared, and with them, some of our connection to our local neighbourhoods. They’ve been demolished and replaced, renovated to become gentrified cafes and coffee stops, or converted into houses, with feature corner doors painted shut and the outline of bricked-up windows only hinting at their former glory days.
And then recently and all of a sudden came the sandwich renaissance. Carbs were back with a vengeance. And soon, ‘grocers’ began to re-emerge. But our expectations now sit above double-cut rolls and milkshakes, with a penchant for bougie breads, loaded with fillings that might otherwise form a full meal, if it wasn’t all jammed between two slices. Nowadays, ‘local grocers’ stock imported, artisan, and typically pricey bits and bobs that seem to aim for aesthetics, over taste.
Thankfully, there are the few who have leant back into the original and created a hybrid model, one that aims to tick all the aesthetic boxes while still being willing to whip up a mean milkshake. I’ll take the Lime flavour, thanks.
Enter, Our Boy Roy. After taking over three separate shopfronts on a street corner in Clarence Park, the owners stripped back layers of generic design choices, demolished some interior walls, coated previously dark features and now-exposed bricks with a splash of white paint, added a couple of on-trend accent hues and threw open the doors, to some very welcoming punters, many locals, but also those of us who needed to traipse our way across a few other neighbourhoods to get in and see what all the fuss is about.
The fuss, it seems, starts with very good coffee. Very good juice too. Called a fruit tingle, it does exactly that, with strawberry and orange, apple and lime forming the freshest of morning blends. And then, onto that milkshake list, where even the Lime option is outdone by classics of a different note. You remember Bubble-O-Bill? Splice? Golden Gaytime? Here they are reimagined as whipped dairy drinks – and these milkshakes are actually good. (None of that crazy-monster-shake madness with candy hanging off the side, that thankfully did not stick around for too long.)
Beyond drinks, the majority of the Our Boy Roy menu sits squarely in the realm of brunch. There are some typical savouries like eggs benny, an American-style omelette, or even a ploughman’s breakfast plate (but perhaps its best avoid the avo toast if you’re working to buy in the area – this is one neighbourhood still reeling from the property price hike).
Back to the food, and as I’ve recently discovered, the most important meal of the day: breakfast gnocchi. Or ‘breaky gnocchi’ as it’s called on the menu. After one bite I’m feeling pretty affectionate, too. You see, they’ve taken roughly hewn chunks of bacon, a medley of different mushrooms, some fried cherry tomatoes, and a couple of other ingredients, and managed to turn some fried (pillowy, delicious) potato (gnocchi) into some kind of revelation at this end of the day. It’s buttery. It’s smoky and umami. Yes, it’s just gnocchi – but I don’t think I’ve ever been this impressed by brunch.
Our Boy Roy’s ‘breakfast’ gnocchi
A quick moment to compose myself and slurp down a smoothie (this one’s tropical, with mango, pineapple, passionfruit, banana and coconut milk, so it’s most certainly healthy) and then it’s on to… cake?
A bit later in the morning (10:30 to be exact) and Roy would be serving up sandwiches. Think schnitzel on a potato-bread bun, an old-school meatball panini, or perhaps a classic Rueben, but we’re here a little early for that. So, on we trot, from savoury brunch to sweet.
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Nostalgia hits with Roy’s Hotcake. It takes a minute and then the country-dessert-buffet memories swell. It’s reminiscent of that little cakey raspberry jam coconut slice that was usually piled up between the jelly cakes and honey crackles. Your grandma or aunty had their own secret recipe, but here there’s only a flavour resemblance, none of that squishy, crumbly and overly sweet bite of cheap jam. The hotcake itself is less of a pancake, but more of an actual cake. Pillowy and over an inch thick, it soaks up a syrup that seeps down from the jumbled fruit compote assortment piled on top. Plump raspberries and slices of barely ripe strawberry refresh the dish, purposefully acidic to challenge the light sweetness from a generous dollop of double cream. A citrusy tang is thanks to a lemon myrtle-infused combination of chopped and crushed nuts that provides texture and just enough crunch. Despite the fact there is only one hot ‘cake’ here, it’s a challenge to demolish, and I’m glad I’m sharing the load with my date. And while this is brunch, it could just as easily be dessert. It’s divine, and worlds away from any hotcake that came before it.
Luscious hot cakes
It’s here that I need to talk about chips. An odd spot right at the end, I agree, but whatever you decide to order, Roy’s chips are worth the extra calories. A secret blended seasoning that the Colonel should be jealous of coats these, and there’s not even an ounce of guilt as I consider today’s carbs, because, as I’ve already said – they’re back.
Our Boy Roy
114 East Ave, Clarence Park
Open Daily 7am-3pm
Instagram: @ourboyroy_adl
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