There's something about a restaurant that proudly displays photos. It gives personality to a place. I'm not talking about the restaurants that display celebrities 'enjoying' a house favourite, restaurant owner smarmily by their side. No, I'm talking about the sort of place that takes pics of much-loved regular customers with staff, or a group staff photo – as was the case with Rococo, in Noosa.
I'm pretty sure I've passed Rococo by on previous visits to Noosa. It looks sophisticated, and when I'm in Noosa I'm the kind of table-hogging, coffee-drinking laptop writer that just doesn't fit in.
The cocktails (why are you holidaying in Noosa unless you're going to have a 4pm cocktail?) were decent: mine, an Endless Summer Punch, was particularly refreshing. The thing that truly impressed me, though, was a simple bruschetta.
Bruschetta is so easy, and yet so easy to mess up. I can honestly say I've had about three good ones in my entire life. Chefs either make it too fancy (completely ignoring the point), or use cheap ingredients because it's an unimportant dish on a budget-restricted menu. The chef at Rococco didn't go the traditional route, but they certainly showed that they know what bruschetta is about.
This tomato could very well be the reincarnation of Liberace. It's that good.
How so? Just good ingredients. Good bread. Fresh basil. Quality olive oil. Most importantly: a tomato that seemed to have been conceived in heaven, nurtured on a tropical island, gently brushed off by David Attenborough and sung into slices by Kiri Te Kanawa.
Okay, maybe I'm going a bit too far, but it's been a long time since I had a fresh tomato quite this tasty.
Rococo isn't a place for a cheap meal, but neither is it too fancy for a casual drink. It blends a formal dining atmosphere with a welcoming friendliness (case in point: this lone writer, who spent hours at a time in the place while only ordering a coffee. The staff were remarkably tolerant of my blatant table-hogging). Thank you, Rococo, for changing my mind about you.