MADALENA'S

The best Brazilian on South Beach

If you’re down the beach and you forgot to pack a snack, your usual option is fish and chips so overpriced you’d expect the joint was keeping their recently awarded second Michelin star strangely hush hush. If you’re really lucky there might be some sort of greasy pizzeria, or a café selling wraps and sangas made to order about a week out. If what you really feel like is a vermouth and a spanking fresh crudo, (and if you don’t, you soon will) then you’ll want to be swimming exclusively at Fremantle’s South Beach. Because just a hop, skip and jump from the surf is newly-opened Madalena’s Bar, where you can get exactly that, and then some.

Inspired by a boteca – the unceremonious neighbourhood bars that line the streets of Brazil - Madelena’s might be on a different continent but it doesn’t compromise on any of the vibe. The 80-seater is airy, the décor is basic, and a quarter of the seats are located on the pavement outside. A bronze horseshoe bar topped with marble dominates the left-hand side of the room; behind it, a tiny open kitchen. The tables and chairs are a tad reminiscent of something you had on the back porch until you realized it was verge collection week, but they are strewn about the room in such a fashion as to maximize the ease with which staff can throw them together for groups and break them apart afterwards. Smart. But there are some touches of elegance: in one corner, a standing lamp offers a warm glow for the local couple lucky enough to grab the spot beneath it, illuminating buttery yellow walls that are strangely comforting. On the window, the name of the establishment is spelt out in beautiful, hand-painted gold lettering. Let’s be real, though – you didn’t come here in your Sunday best for white-linen service. Co-owner Joel Rees says sandy and shoeless beachgoers are just as welcome as anyone with an actual shirt on.

Rees and his wife, Danielle Christina de Almeida operate much-loved Brazilian food truck Comida do Sul, but it’s Rees’ brother Adam behind the menu here. That’s good news, as the latter has recently returned from a stint over east with Andrew McConnell, the part-chef part-robot behind a frankly confronting number of Melbourne’s trendiest venues (think Supernormal, Cumulus Inc., Cutler & Co). Seafood is the order of the day here, but forget squid rings lost under heavy coatings of batter. The aforementioned crudo – goldband snapper for our visit – comes perched in a silky almond milk broth with segments of Valencia orange ($18). If you thought almond milk’s only real use was making coffee undrinkable then prepare to be pleasantly surprised. The fish was fresh, the orange provided a citrusy burst and the almond milk managed to be both creamy and tangy at the same time. I couldn't help but feel that the room temp serving muted the flavours slightly; once in the mouth the elements of this dish tended to meld together indiscernibly.  Still, the ingredients were clean and the concept innovative.

A plate of salchichon and nectarine ($6) also demonstrated a bit of behind-the-scenes noggin scratchin'. The salchichon – a type of Spanish pork sausage – came sliced thin and wrapped around individual wedges of nectarine. The tartness of the fruit was the perfect foil for the spice and fatty mouthfeel of the sausage; this is a beaut snack, bursting with unexpected flavor. It's the kind of thing you'll want to replicate for your next dinner party, no doubt to your guests' initial horror. "Trust me", you'll say to your friends, just like I am saying to you now.

Wagin duck liver parfait ($16) came served underneath a blanket of purple vermouth aspic. Despite looking like an offbeat grade-four arts and craft project, the parfait was one of the most unctuous, silky-soft renditions I've ever tasted, and in a shocking plot twist there was actually enough parfait to service the crispbread that it came with. In all honesty the parfait could have come with a side of crisp hundred dollars bills and I would have ruined each one just to get that more of that deliciousness in my mouth. A spoonful of sour cherries supplied an acidic optional extra.

Imagine seeing the phrase "sardine spines" listed as an ingredient in a tomato salad. What could this possibly mean? Do they come on the side as glorified toothpicks? In the case of Madalena's heirloom tomato salad ($15), they are ground to a grit and sprinkled over everything like a particularly fishy salt. It's another interesting touch to a fairly basic dish – the remaining elements are ripe, multicoloured heirloom tomatoes, torn basil leaves and balsamic – but the overall effect is texturally and flavourally successful.

To finish we had one of the two cheese offerings – a cave cheddar from the United Kingdom, which arrived simply with the aforementioned crispbreads ($14). Not much can be said about it except that it was a very nice piece of cheese which necessitated the ordering of another few glasses of garnacha. What a tragedy.

Madalena's is a cool spot. It's got beachy vibes, it's pretty unpretentious, the food is simple with a few clever surprises to keep things interesting. The drinks list will please anyone whose usual order isn't typically preceded by the words "pint of" (not to say they don't have beers on tap – they do). You can imagine this place absolutely banging in the latter hours of a Freo summer afternoon with a combination of hungry beachgoers, in-the-know locals, and lucky tourists.

See you there.