The Little Elephant

A lovely local café trying only to be lovely and local. The other review is unfair and reeks of daft snobbery.
Say hi to sexy Conrad and John whilst you indulge in their wonderful food and coffee.

I feel like I must be cursed lately. I seem to be encountering bad eatery after bad eatery. I thought The Little Elephant would be a safe choice as my boyfriends cuisine-​savvy mother recommended it. Unfortunately not. In saying that, there were a fair amount of positives, however a lot brought their score to a two.
Walking in to The Little Elephant, you immediately notice its open, young feel that invites your eyes into the kitchen, as there are no walls to separate — just dividers. The décor — of course, is industrial-​chic, as is nouveau nowadays. Sporting wood, white & yellow powder-​coated metal stools and lazy side-​couches. Aesthetically, it is a lovely café.
As usual, we ordered our double Ristretto lattes, which were delivered promptly and did not at all disappoint, nor exceed. The café only had a few tables occupied as we were late in for lunch. We read the menu maybe ten times each. Another tired, boring brunch menu trying to be hip, but somehow being exactly the same as 90% of the cafes in its genre. Well.
I ordered the Son in Law Eggs and my handsome compadre The Burger. I wanted the Burger but didn’t want to get the same as him. I think it’s sad, that on a beautiful, bustling Sunday afternoon, experiencing a new café, two gourmands only felt inspired enough to order a burger. Anyway, both were $ 17.
When we placed our order for food, my dearest ordered fresh Apple juice and I the juice of the day which was apple, beetroot and ginger, I asked they not put beetroot in mine. This was no problem at all. I’d like to say, up to this point, the waitress was friendly and attentive, she even had a conversation with my partner about she recognised him from another café. Nice girl.
The meals came out within twenty minutes of ordering and were given to us by the gentleman who made our coffees. No juices yet, no word on the juices, strange but okay. They’re fresh — they take time to make, so that’s cool.
Both the Burger and Eggs were presented spectacularly! I was hungry having missed breakfast and now seeing this gorgeous, piece of food art before me, I was abruptly starving. The burger looked sumptuous in all its proud meat glory. We were happy with our choices and eager to dig in.
The description of my eggs, were ‘soft boiled eggs, shallow fried’ of course I immediately sliced into it and was not disheartened by what I saw. Rich, golden, buttery like goodness oozing over the beans and caramelised onions on my plate. This truly was a sight to see, especially as my plate was adorned in prosciutto as well! Mmmm
So why am I giving The Little Elephant a two? Because I made the mistake of tasting my beautiful looking meal. I guess it must have been ‘Lets Pour The Sugar In The Onion Day’ and stir it through everything and ruin the meal. There was a very sad looking, candy tasting and sweaty onion relish mixed in to this dish and it was actually awful.
I ate one of the eggs, one bit of prosciutto and a couple bits of broccoli but I gave up when I couldn’t cut through the strips of apparently stale bread they put underneath it all. I hit the plate with said bread and it sounded like stones meeting. I wish I was exaggerating. Still no juice, still no waitress checking in.
The burger was delicious, garlicky and generally bold with flavours. However, it is served with very sad looking shoe string fries and «aioli.» I think we all have different interpretations of aioli, mine involves garlic, theirs did not. Still no juice.
After a while of sitting in disbelief over how awful my eggs were, conversation turned to our options. Should we send back the eggs and order something else? Should we just leave? The absence of wait staff made the decision for us. As we decided to go, the waitress finally arrives to tell us the juicer is not working (or something). Why she waited 45 minutes to tell us this, I’m not sure. We told her to forget the juices — we’d had about enough by this point.
A minute later she arrives with both juices to take away. Awkwardly, I must tell her again– I don’t want mine. She looked at me like I was insane. Maybe I am? I don’t want juice that I’ve watched your 15 year old juice maker struggle over for an hour.
The total was $ 42, which I officially feel like was thrown down a well. They had some lovely, burnt ANZAC cookies in their display cabinet. Go figure.
So all in all. Get coffee and leave.