The wildflower-lined courtyard spruiks a briefer,snackier menu,plus the opportunity to rock up whenever you like and just sit on a glass of gamay. Not quite a restaurant,but more than a bar.

Goddard previously cooked at Adelaide’s Summertown Aristologist,where the menu was guided by whatever was tasting good from the kitchen farm,local fishers or shelves of bubbling lacto-ferments.

It’s a similar,rustic pitch at P&V;pickled vegetables ($12) with kefir butter and soft hunks of sourdough ($7) take me straight back to long,lazy lunches in the Adelaide Hills. You could have a grand afternoon with that bread,tangy butter and a few pickled green tomatoes alone.

P&V is invariably teeming with drinkers and diners in their late 20s,but that doesn’t mean there’s a ‘too cool for school’ vibe.

Maybe a glass of the “boujee white”,too,which could be a crisp Rippon Mature Vine 2020 Riesling ($19) from New Zealand’s Central Otago. More by-the-glass lists should be written like this:“fun fizz”,“pink party drink”,“friendly red” – descriptions that tell most drinkers all they care to know.

Staff will go into greater detail about the wine if you ask,however. What’s the day’s “rare bird”? It’s a $25 pour of supple Domaine Marc Delienne Abbaye Road 2021 Beaujolais that’s all “undergrowth and brambles”.

Does it go with the silky ricotta ravioli in a clear tomato broth ($27) that tastes like a holiday in Campania? Not really,but it doesn’t matter. P&V co-founders Mike Bennie and Louise Dowling threw out the rule book on how wine should be enjoyed years ago. You do you.

The playlist is equally freewheeling:the Zombies,Notorious B.I.G.,Harry Belafonte. I can’t tell you another time when I’ve sliced into a leek and mushroom-filled buckwheat crepe ($21) while listening to Deep Purple’sSpace Truckin’. Served under a blizzard of comte,it was a terrific crepe,too – albeit removed from the menu three days later,replaced by a vibrant-green clutch of chilled asparagus with herby,egg-forward sauce gribiche ($21).

Zucchini flowers,$12 each and stuffed with a scallop and ’nduja mousse of mighty flavour,are a more regular fixture. You’ll probably want at least two.

Baby snapper ($26) – soft and sweet in a spindly,pale-ale batter that’s closer to tempura than your standard fish-and-chip shop gear – is another semi-permanent item. It’s also the kind of deep-fried crowd-pleaser that has our table stalking the retail fridges for a racy,untamed chardonnay.

Corkage is $25 if you pick a bottle from the shop and,given the price hike on booze in restaurants,a lot of value can be unlocked by doing so.

A bowl of supremely smooth chocolate sorbet with brandied cherries is also well priced at $10 and makes me wonder why Black Forest cake still hasn’t made a comeback.

The tart is a pricier $20,but you’re getting a king-sized slice of frangipane loaded with honey-preserved kumquats and topped with luscious cream. Certainly worth splitting with a mate.

P&V is invariably teeming with drinkers and diners in their late 20s,but that doesn’t mean there’s a “too cool for school” vibe of the kind you might find at some wine bars with one-hat ambitions.

Staff are happy to guide anyone who doesn’t speak sommelier through the booze,and if you just want a “normal” beer,thanks,that option’s there,too.

Sure,the napkins are paper and one of our tables is rickety,but prices don’t get much more competitive for such forthright cooking and wine. Sydney needs more not-quite-a-restaurant venues just like this.

This review was originally published inGood Weekend magazine