Dear Sainte Éloise

George Orwell once begged a fictional saint for just enough coin to buy some bread and a bottle of wine. Dear Sainte Éloise answers that exact prayer—brilliantly. Tucked right into Orwell Street, this Potts Point *cave à manger* understands the transformative power of a solitary glass of terroir-driven juice. Ask the city's most discerning cork dorks—they’ll point you straight to this cozy, Parisian-leaning room for its staggeringly deep cellar of Aussie and international drops. But you’re not just drinking. The kitchen turns out fiercely creative, precise plates that elevate those simple pleasures. Think delicate tuna *crudo* spiked with lemongrass salsa, impossibly good sourdough slathered in smoked butter, and an Asian-leaning beef tartare perched on a crisp prawn cracker that completely defies convention. Anchovy toast? Absolute chef’s kiss. Whether you’re posting up for a quick sharpener or settling into the private room for a sprawling set menu, the vibe is intimate, quietly classy, and completely intoxicating.