Finally… a use for that teaspoon collection

A delightful surprise has sprung up in the wayside of the inner-city bypass. Called Martha’s Pantry, it’s at the top of Cuba Street, opposite Thistle Hall. Look for number 276, an admirable two-storey brick building – owned for 80 years by the family of long-gone great-granny Martha. You’ll find the entrance to this cute little tearoom, named in her honour, around the corner on Karo Drive. A pretty pink sign swings over the door.

Sisters Anita and Ondine – beautiful offspring they are – have cooked up something sweet here. When you visit, take an eight-year-old girl if you have one, or maybe your Gran. They’ll love this pastel fantasyland, peopled by pocket-size fairies and walled with jars of home-made jam. Tables and chairs charm in their finery, while bud-vases woo with a daisy or two. Laura Ashley’s settee faces out to a small courtyard and carpark: noisy, but sunny, and rare in these parts.

An heroic oak drapery counter takes up its fair share of the room. Behind it stand our aproned pantry-girls, stirring the soup pot and slicing up sammies. Martha’s offerings are a refined luncheon and civilised morning and afternoon teas, with sandwiches the staple. Bijoux little clubs ($2) will satisfy the churchmice, while lunchsome rounds such as salami & swiss cheese, and lemon roast lamb with mint jelly & cucumber ($6.50) will satisfy a larger appetite.

The baking ($3-5) is delightful and refreshingly imperfect. A little tough on the edges, Hannah’s strawberry shortcake was nevertheless lovely with its almonds and cinnamon, while my plum tart was a little flat but featherlight and bursting with homely pride. And who else wheels out their old fine bone china and an enviable teaspoon collection? Sure – a flat white in a teacup was odd, but my coffee was hot to the very last drop… why isn’t everyone doing it? Tea, needless to say, was offered in array and arrived in a well-pouring pot.

The upper end Cuba Street has changed swiftly and forever, but it’s springing back to life. I wonder what great-granny Martha would make of it?