Von Haus

1a Crossley Street, Melbourne
(behind The Paperback)
Phone (03) 9662 2756

Von Haus has been the darling of the dead-tree media the last few months, which is probably reason why I’ve held off writing about it.  The problem is, Von Haus is cool, and oh so cool at that. It is also teeny-tiny, and when EG and I first popped in for a drink and a bite, it was so deliciously quiet and romantic that we held this dear little secret place close to our hearts.  Then came the media, the throng – and that coveted spot at the window overlooking Crossley to Pellegrini’s is one of the most sought after bar spots in Melbourne. There is now a buzz in the air, and I must admit I lament the loss of what was so deliciously hidden.  So why post about it now?  Well since everyone is talking about it, I may as well add my two cents worth! To be honest, I’m also excited by their food (and drink), and wish to share some of the great dishes we consumed.

The Crossley Buildings in which Von Haus is located was erected in 1849, even before the colony of Victoria had been declared a state (which is why the logo for Von Haus says it was established in New South Wales). The space seats a cosy 30 people and you perch yourselves on high wooden stools at small share tables or one long communal table. The walls are distressed and there is a definite patina about the place – it feels like it’s been around forever.  The details impress; the mirrored splashback in the kitchen were shaving mirrors found in boxes in the old storage room of the building post wine bar renovation, and the botanic displays are care of Rupert Duffy’s (owner of Von Haus and ex-Manager of Misty) wife – a very talented lass.

Take your pick from the small menu which changes every few hours on the Chef’s whim, and wines by the glass are the first four bottles of red and white opened on the day.

This is the kind of fare that has people clamouring. The ploughman’s plate: aged west country cheddar, boiled egg, apple, cornichons, pickled onion and chutney with thick chunks of sourdough bread and serve-yourself butter ($12). And how can you resist a glass of the finest Henry of Harcourt apple cider ($5). The perfect match to such a rustic dish.

EG was feeling virtuous and chose a bowl of organic brown rice with fresh and pickled vegies, kelp, sesame seeds and tamari ($12). It was health in a bowl if I ever saw it, and EG savoured every mouthful.

On another visit (it was a particularly cold wintery rainy day), I was lured by a leek and potato soup ($8.50). Now what I loved about this dish was it wasn’t all pureed to a mush (my biggest pet peeve). I love a soup with chunks (…not the cold tinny type), that has body, substance and bite. The potatoes and leeks were sliced thinly into discs, and sat in the thickish infused stock.  A dollop of sour cream and a garnish of black pepper and chives finished it off.  Well…nearly.  Then came the (again) magnificent sour dough bread with the serve yourself butter.

EG, on this cold wintery day, went with the other special, a chicken stew with ‘haus’kraut (sauerkraut) and parmesan potatoes.  This is a perfect example of the type of slow cooked dishes you can expect on the daily meny. Hearty, peasanty, honest to goodness fare.

Oh…and just in case you can’t find it, this is the door.