We start at Barzaari by being the annoying table.

“Do you have any questions about the menu?” asks our affable waiter. It’s a question, several minutes later, he may regret. As it happens we do have some questions. Many.

What, for instance is majdouleh? (A string cheese like mozzarella.) And, oh, OK, is it very different to haloumi? (Yes, tastier). How is it paired with the shanklish (a yoghurt cheese) with which it is offered in a dish of “shanklish & majdouleh in vine leaf with meyer lemon and veg” ($11)? The shanklish is wrapped in the majdouleh and in vine leaves before being cooked. OK then.

Perhaps there is an argument that it’s best not to ask too many questions and rather just enjoy going with the flow. After all, this is a menu of adventure, a list not dumbed down for punters but one which commences on a journey and persists with it. There are no standard Greek cliches here.

But then again, we really want to know what these dishes are. What say, is koosa (a Lebanese squash-like a zucchini), sheftalia (Cypriot pork and onion sausages), loukaniko (Greek pork sausages) and mograbieh (Israeli couscous)? See, it was worth the questioning.

So Barzaari is ambitious. It’s the first restaurant for a couple of blokes with Cypriot connections, in chef Darryl Martin (whose wife Gabby is half Cypriot) and Andrew Jordanou on front of house (whose grandfather was Cypriot), who worked together in fine dining (their CVs include Quay and Foveaux). The pair have gentrified a convenience store into a restaurant of exposed bricks and hanging lights and kitchen complete with wood-burning oven and open coal pit built by Cypriots in Darwin. They have also ensured everything is true to the traditions of Cyprus and the wider Middle East (Lebanon, Jordan, Syria, Turkey and Greece) sourcing true ingredients including thribi (wild oregano) and Pathos honey that’s actually from Pathos.

Start with, say, the shanklish vine leaves, cheesy scrolls that arrive, somewhat oddly, draped with baby turnips. They are interesting both texturally and flavour wise — a great start. Follow with shell-on Spencer Gulf prawns (expensive at $25 for two), wood fired, and offered with skordalia (garlic dip). They’re meaty, smoky and good.

Then try octopus tentacles ($33), slow-cooked and charred over charcoal, or something substantial like Cowra lamb shoulder ($38) roasted over coals for five hours and redolent of garlic and the hay-like thribi (some more tzatziki to assist the meat wouldn’t go astray).

There is some good eating here., and if occasionally the cooking seems faintly rushed and imprecise that’s not surprising given the volume of customers turning up.

Perhaps a more edited menu and more concise plating might make the heat out of service. Just a suggestion. In any event, save room for pistachio cake ($14), moist and piquant with orange blossom syrup, and sandpit coffee ($9) — coffee cooked literally in a sandpit. It’s cheaper than a trip to Cyrpus and quite as eye opening.

Originally published on dailytelegraph.com.au