Of all the conspiracy theories you could get tangled up in, the idea that “Australia is a hoax” might well be my favourite. Its inhabitants? Merely actors. Qantas? Fictitious. You could take the deniers down to Milk Beach, a new Australian restaurant in Soho, to meet the freckled, outdoorsy staff and savour the grilled shrimp, the lamingtons and the sheer Australian-ness of it all, yet they’d only say, “This is all very convenient, but where’s the proof?”
That said, there is something about the distinct lightness of Milk Beach that presents Australia as some sort of idyllic dream world. One moment you’re on Greek Street, weaving through the bins, rats and hen parties, before a quick turn into an alleyway reveals the fresh and pretty Ilona Rose House. Here is Milk Beach, a spacious, pastel-and-pale-timber oasis helmed by calm, rested, beach-tousled staff who are seemingly just back from an afternoon ashtanga session on Bondi. Perhaps … Yes, life in the UK is cold, cruel and unyielding right now, but here at Milk Beach things are decidedly vitamin D-drenched and blissful, as if your biggest problem were overly sandy flip-flops or, at the very worst, the coffee and banana negronis not arriving swiftly enough.
