It’s a well-known secret: Fremantle is the place to go for Western Australia’s best urban dining. Perth is the place for fine dining and post-work drinks – if networking with the other suits on the terrace is your preference – but when it comes to open, honest food, it’s Fremantle’s bohemian corners and laidback attitude that produces results.

The best case for this argument is Freo favourite Bread in Common.

On the verge of its third birthday, Bread in Common has established itself as something of an institution amongst Fremantle locals. Its underlying concept – simple food, elegantly executed – results in a rewarding sensory experience of farmhouse cooking.

Set within one of Freo’s beautiful, lofty heritage-listed warehouses, Bread in Common hosts a labyrinth of large share tables, bedecked daily with jars of freshly picked native plants, where everyone from large groups to couples comes together. Produce is fresh and locally-sourced, simply and honestly prepared by chef Scott Brannigan and his team and served on plates designed for sharing. The walls, left in their rugged red brick, hold massive vials of pickled veggies from floor to ceiling, alongside a small but carefully-chosen wall list of local and international wines.

Outside the restaurant is an edible garden and al fresco area, providing a small, stone-walled area for coffee aficionados to enjoy their takeaway beverages under the shady foliage of Bread in Common’s passionfruit vines.

It’s this attention to detail that perhaps piqued the interest of the locals. But it’s undeniably the quality of the food that has made them stick around.

The heart of this is the bakery. The warehouse is large enough to host two wood-fired bread ovens, dating circa 1940, which have been affectionately christened Hansel and Gretel, a homage to their European-style baked goods. (According to Brannigan, it’s bad luck not to name your ovens.)

The bread menu consists of four main offerings including the common loaf, wholemeal sourdough, white sourdough and the 100 per cent stone-milled rye. All are organic, baked free-form and served in chunky slices to the table for $2 per person – with endless refills. The refills are perhaps the most important part, as the menu also boasts a creative selection of freshly churned butters and dips to accompany the bread.

We tried the classic fresh butter, served on a rustic wooden board with a delicate pile of sea-salt flakes for dipping; the sweet garlic butter with fennel salt; and the smoked tomato butter with onion ash. We were about to call it quits on the bread when we saw the wood-fired pumpkin dip with spiced pepitas. The sweet pumpkin pulp, combined with the thick, dense and deliciously chewy sourdough, was a winning combination.

But guests would do well to note this importance of saving precious stomach real estate when visiting Bread in Common. There’s a definite risk of filling up too early – and as good as the bread is, it’s not the only player here.

The menu is simple – not expansive, but thoughtful – and each dish is designed to be enjoyed as a shared item with the wider table.

We shared a plate of lamb ribs, four large slabs of slow-roasted meat, piled high on the plate and dressed in a simple lime, mint, black garlic and sherry jus. The meat was incredibly tender, with the lamb’s natural fat keeping the meat moist during its slow roast. The dish runs the inherent risk of becoming too rich, in fact, though the cutting acidity of Brannigan’s jus vinaigrette alleviates it perfectly. The mushrooms with shallots, miso, soya, mustard leaf and blue cheese – a stand-alone vegetarian dish in its own right – wonderfully accompanied the lamb, with the Asian fusion flavours complimenting the meat’s sweet acidity.

Brannigan and his team have brought dining back to basics in a refreshingly humble fashion. Bread in Common’s flavours are homely and traditional, but presented as a new twist on old favourites. It’s a dining experience that won’t disappoint.