WINES OF WHILE

The new Paris end of China town

The northernmost end of William Street, just beyond the fringes of Chinatown, is not renowned as a wining and dining hotspot. Come dusk, the sidewalks play host only to locals passing through in search of takeaway, groups of revellers pushing down towards Northbridge, and the occasional murmuring drunk tip-toeing shakily across the street. It's not exactly a destination.

The times, however, are changing. Wines of While, Perth's first natural wine shop-cum-wine bar, has opened to much elation in a heritage shopfront right up on the corner of William and Brisbane. The venue, an intimate 50-seater with tables spilling out onto the pavement, is the newly-fermented passion project of Sam Winfield, (formerly a surgical assistant) and it gives more than a courteous nod to places such as Embla in Melbourne, and 10 William Street in Sydney.

Space is the keyword when discussing the venue itself- both where it is lacking and where it is created. Ostensibly the bar/dining area is small; the centrepiece is probably the long bar which is for sitting at and for service, or maybe it's the hand-welded wine rack which serves to isolate another space; a wall-mounted bar along the southern edge of the shop, replete with coat hooks, stools and brought to life with a chic square of soft green on the wall above. Although the room is small there are plenty of spaces created; each table seems to occupy its own unique spot. Large bay windows at the shopfront keep the room airy and light. It's a beautiful exercise in minimalism, with a slight nod to the nouveau Italian aesthetic.

It would be foolish to begin with anything other than a discussion about the wine, although really there isn’t much for us to say except that here you're in very capable hands. Natural wines are the raison d'etre of this venue, or perhaps even more simply – just good wine. Take your pick from the by-the-glass selection – an ever-changing handful of titles chalked up on a board behind the bar – or select a bottle from the rack, the four-degree fridge (whites and sparkling) or the fourteen-degree fridge, (cellar temp, mostly reds). On our visit we were pointed towards a bottle of French gamay/cab sav from the "cellar" fridge, with the briefing that it was 'something a bit different'. It was suitably crisp, slightly funky, almost fizzy – there's a reason our server had to reach into the depths of the fridge to grab the next bottle. If you're up for a bit of adventure it'd be hard to go wrong here – put yourself in the hands of the staff and be prepared to embrace something new.

If the vino at Wines of While is boldly going, the food certainly isn't – and is all the better for it. There's no flashy cheffery here. Don't expect sous-vide meats flamboyantly arranged atop twelve-ingredient purees. Winfield is banging out plates of honest, simple peasant food, represented on the aforementioned chalkboard by one-word monikers – "octopus", "salume", "anchovies".

Start with house-baked sourdough, which is crusty and chewy. A generous few hunks will come out on a plate with a liberal pat of butter – violent yellow, salty. Even if bread's not your thing, you'd be well advised to order some because curiously you don't seem to be given side-plates despite the fact that much of the food is to share – by the end of the night my napkin, turned makeshift tray, resembled a Jackson Pollock.

Get the white beans. Just do it. This plate is quickly becoming the subject of hot rumours. It's a rustic triumph; creamy slow-cooked cannellini beans, spiked with butter and lemon juice, finished with salt and shavings of lemon zest. Spoon it into your mouth. Put it on your bread. Apply it to your face and hands. It's beautiful and simple. Simpler still is a tin of sardines in oil, served on a plate with nothing but a lemon cheek, a modest mound of salt and small green capers. Again, enter the sourdough. Or just eat these slim fish straight out the can – they're barely fishy and not too salty.

A dish of ribboned zucchini, heaped onto cloud-soft ricotta, generously adorned with parsley and chopped almonds, provides fresh, light relief. It's tasty, although the key flavour, the ricotta, is all but inaccessible here under its zucchini covering when you're picking away with just a fork – a side-plate would have allowed for a more aggressive dismantling of the dish which would have let the flavours more easily combine.

Cheese, to finish, was an arrangement of three cheeses equidistant around a plate, with a handful of crispbread in the middle. On our night, there was the ubiquitous soft; something French oozing gently, a sweet, tangy blue, and some shards of aged gouda, piquant and strong. So good that even a brief period spent on the sidewalk after being accidentally jettisoned from a shard of crispbread did not prevent one slice of gouda from being happily consumed.

Any of these dishes could be eaten on their own as a snack, or shared as part of a larger, pick-at-everything sort of meal. The most substantial dish on the menu comes courtesy of the in-house pasta machine, and at around $24, is also the priciest. If you're lucky it'll be tortiglione con polpette, topped with crisp, salty parm . For dessert you might find plum ice cream or yuzu sherbert on the board, assuming, of course, that you're still peckish after a plate or two of those beans. The beauty of this venue is in its unpretentiousness and its versatility. Come for a couple of glasses of wine and a drink with friends, or commit to a few bottles and have an intimate, rustic meal. Or just drop by for some takeaway wines. Wines of While sets a precedent for a new type of Perth venue – one that we hope will be eagerly emulated in suburbs and on sidestreets everywhere. Judging by the reception this place has received, there’s clearly an appetite for it.