Charles and Meg Rawlings-Way

The original Soi 38 is in Bangkok – a hyperactive congregation of food stalls firing up about 6pm and running deep into the night. Here in Adelaide the tradition continues. The venue isn’t a stall, however – it’s a rather stylishly kitted-out shopfront, with polished boards, black-lacquered furniture and a garish chandelier bringing some kitsch to the kitchen. All things local, seasonal and ethical occupy the mindset: expect free-range everything (chicken, eggs, pork), grass-fed beef and local line-caught seafood. It mightn’t stay open until the wee smalls, but some crisp kradook moo tod glua (garlic pork ribs) at 9pm is hard to beat.    

Someone wise once said that you should watch your back in pubs with carparks (because that’s where the brawls happen). And the carpark at Highway is HUGE. The beer garden is too. But whether you’re feeling pugilistic or otherwise, head inside this low-slung boozer for bang-up burgers, beers and bands (jazz, even). Halfway between downtown Adelaide and beachy Glenelg, it’s a tempting spot to break up the journey (the thirst-making 11km epic that it is). The pokies room consumes a lot of acreage, but let’s not go there… Pull up a stool in the Lounge Bar instead, watch the Boston Celtics on the big screen and chew into pizzas, fish-and-chips or maybe a garlic-and-lemon chicken burger.    

Sometimes all you need is a no-frills, kid-tolerant, neighbourhood Italian joint for a quick linguine or a pizza the aforementioned kids won’t think is too fancy. But even if you don’t have the family in tow, La Scala is about as unpretentious and reliable as they come. The hard-cover, wipe-down menu is looong, covering off steak, chicken, seafood, salads, pasta and pizza – nothing controversial or exploratory, just the classics done with practised precision. The gelati counter gets a workout on a hot Adelaide evening: grab a cone of limone and hit the street.      

There are plenty of cafés along King William Road, but By Blackbird stands out for its fine Frenchy pastries and super-efficient service. It’s a contemporary glass-and-concrete room, softened and humanised by antique stools and timber tables, retro leather couches, local art (for sale) and nostalgic ’80s hits on the stereo (when was the last time you heard ‘I Just Died In Your Arms’ by the Cutting Crew?). Line up and order at the central counter, where cakes glisten and beckon from inside a glass cabinet (the tarte citron is killer). Croissants are the house special, hitting that elusive sweet spot between flaky and buttery; savoury crêpes, pies and quiches follow not far behind. Coffee is punchy to boot.     

A local rarity, Zest swims against Glenelg’s main-street mainstream and delivers an earthy, home-spun café experience. Coffee couples and local lunchers crowd the orange-brick ‘60s shopfront and converted garage, but upbeat, plentiful staff make it hard to feel grumpy if you have to wait for a seat. Scan the art on the walls, or tune-in to the lilting saxophone in the background – is that world music or yacht rock? Either way, happy chatter fills the space and relegates the soundtrack to second place. Expect all-day breakfasts (terrific eggs), plus bagels, wraps, salads and soups. Coffee is perky, or select SA wines by the glass will ease you into the afternoon.     

There’s no denying it, South Road is awful. Adelaide’s main southern exit is polluted, noisy, spangled with crass signage and clogged with semi-trailers. But wait… what’s this? The Village Bakery, hanging off the edge of inner-burb Black Forest, is a shining beacon of quality and pleasure, turning out the best pies this side of town. Nimble black-clad staff are quick on the coffee machine and quicker with a smile. Also terrific are vanilla slices, log cakes, lemon meringue pies and quiches. Eat at the long window seat (watch the trucks) or take away. Chai lattes (hot or iced) are further evidence of the ongoing gentrification of Adelaide’s inner southern zones.    

Hey, cool mural. Just one of many such multicoloured efforts in this southern neck of the Adelaide woods, sponsored by the local council. And R&G wears it with pride. Inside, things are less visually stimulating, but the mismatched retro chairs, local art exhibitions and chalkboard for the toddlers are all familiar favourites. There’s even a basic cooch-and-bark-chips backyard for the kids to tool around in, while you down a sizeable breakfast under an umbrella and the dog has a rest under a fruit tree. Service is frank and friendly. House-roasted coffee can be ground for you, or take away a bag o’ beans.      

Glenside? What’s in Glenside? Most Adelaideans equate the suburb with the local psychiatric hospital and nothing more. But Red Berry Espresso is here too, a sharp-looking bean roastery where coffee addicts fend off the madness of withdrawal. The design is mod-industrial: polished concrete, industrial globes, floor-to-ceiling glass… hard surfaces reverberating with conversation and coffee-grinder whirr. The clatter of bicycle cleats elevates the hubbub, as lycra-clad locals waddle in for a caffeine fix and some carrot cake. Repaying the cyclists’ patronage, Red Berry also offer an inner-tube replacement service (drop one for repair, grab one to go). Food is a secondary concern but decent nonetheless: cakes, muffins, baguettes and quiches.    

Down the back of a nondescript carpark on North Adelaide’s Melbourne Street (look for the sandwich boards on the footpath), E for Ethel is an impressive café serving above-par vegetarian selections (add bacon if you must). The carpark roof keeps things shady – and Ethel herself isn’t exactly over-lit. But once your eyes adjust, you’ll see a brick-floored, white-walled room dotted with timber tables and hung with local art. Toddlers wrestle with highchairs; elderly North Adelaideans twiddle with phones; 20-something staffers hum JJJ hits. Melbourne Street isn’t very ‘Melbourne’: no trams, no hipsters, no craft-beer breweries – more antique shops than anything else. But E for Ethel does a decent impersonation of a modern Australian café that would be at home in any city.    

In the southwestern quadrant of the city, Gilbert Street itself is a low-key event: shady trees, Victorian terrace houses, guitar shops... The vibe here is decidedly ‘village’ – a neighbourhood mood which pervades this classic bluestone pub. Dining and drinking areas revolve around a central bar, meandering through to a beer garden out the back. Nifty lighting, luminous liquor racks and quirky murals (love the faux bookshelf) give the place a savvy-but-bookish edge. But it’s not interior design that the students and grey-goateed scenesters are here for. Rather, it’s craft-beer and cocktails, live tunes and the specials issuing forth from the kitchen (...don’t miss jazz and cheap pizzas on Tuesdays).   

If it wasn’t for the Adelaide Airport flightpath tracking directly over Mile End, it’d be the suburb of choice for discerning real-estate pundits. Big old houses squat on big old blocks of land, with the big old Mile End Hotel on hand for refreshments. The interior decorators had a field day here, angling for a post-Hurricane Katrina weathered look, offset by rock posters, art-nouveau lighting, fake crimson hydrangeas, 1920s porno photographs and piles of split logs in the windows. Eclectic, sure – and at worst, jarring. But it certainly gives you something to look at while you’re enjoying the kitchen’s excellent grilled and slow-cooked meats. Interesting craft beers, too.    

A compact mint-green space, Drunken Sailor dissipates the frat-party vibes washing in from next door with quality fish and chips and other interesting maritime delights. From Malay fish curry with tamarind and tomato, to tempura prawns with chipotle mayo and pickled vegetables, each fish dish here is approached with a spirit of nautical adventure (not necessarily helped by wailing death metal and power pop). Interior design-wise, it’s bright blond wood tables (and booths – gotta love booths), retro sailor photographs and kooky octopus murals. On a hot Adelaide evening, fold-back windows open onto O’Connell Street and let the night tide flow in and out.