Has Sydney’s best vanilla slice been hiding in plain sight for 18 years?

Alchemy Polish Cafe Restaurant is the sort of place you look forward to visiting when the weather turns cold, the coats come out of storage, and there’s a bottle of red wine you’ve been waiting to open. It’s one of the few remaining Polish restaurants outside a community club in Sydney, and their karpatka (like a vanilla slice except lighter, creamier and made with choux pastry) alone makes it an immediate must-visit.

Polish-born couple Halina and Janusz Pawlak have been serving hand-shaped pierogi (dumplings), goulash, and beer-braised pork shank at Alchemy for nearly 20 years. Aside from the occasional seasonal special, the menu remains unchanged. So, too, do the interiors.

The restaurant has the warmth of “a big hug from your grandmother”, says Janusz. It has that 𝄒80s Eastern European aesthetic: a little romantic, a little kitsch. Tables are carefully set with white crocheted tablecloths and fresh-cut red roses, gold-framed paintings by Polish artist Krys Kos hang on every wall and there’s a crystal chandelier above the counter.

The restaurant is BYO ($3 corkage), but there’s also a small drinks list with Polish-inspired cocktails (including the “szarlotka”, inspired by the apple cake of the same name, made with vodka, lime and apple juice). The highlight of the drink list is the “medicine”, as Janusz calls it: 13 flavours of homemade “tinctures” infused with fruits, herbs and spices, and poured from crystal decanters. They’re for sipping (“Like a kiss,” says Janusz), and they go down a little too easily.

Most of Alchemy’s customers are regulars, he says. Maybe he’s referring to the buff-looking men wearing polo shirts, downing ice-cold vodka with their pickled herring (served with half a boiled egg and a generous squirt of mayonnaise on pumpernickel). Or maybe the older couple tucked in the corner, sharing a veal schnitzel the size of a handbag.

But, increasingly, there are new faces in the crowd, following a public endorsement from Hong Kong-American stand-up comedian Jimmy O. Yang in December. “It’s one of my favourite restaurants in the world,” Yang said in the viral TikTok video. “It’s hearty, it’s homey, and it reminds me of my childhood in Poland.”

Janusz works the front-of-house, occasionally wandering over to dole out one-liners and advice. Halina is the chef, making everything from pickled cucumbers (with an exceptional, audible crunch), to bitki wolowe (slow-cooked, pounded steak), to a selection of Continental cakes.

“They look a little bit wobbly, but that’s how you know they’re not made in a factory,” Janusz says.

The karpatka carefully layers thick waves of vanilla budyn (a creamy, custardy Polish pudding) atop crackling sheets of light choux pastry.

The menu, sheathed in plastic, features a few dishes you don’t often see in Sydney restaurants. The young waiter is eager to help, quick to provide suggestions, and just a little (jokingly) judgmental when not everyone at the table wants another round of drinks.

Main courses can nudge upwards of $45, but the food is portioned with the generosity of a bygone era. There are certain dishes you know will be good – the trio of pierogies, boiled to order with a creamy potato and cheese filling, topped with fried bacon bits and a dollop of cool sour cream; the pork shank so tender it falls from the bone, served with mustard, horseradish and satisfyingly stodgy fingers of pan-fried potato dumplings; and the cabbage rolls, chubby with rice and pork mince, swimming in a light, tart tomato sauce.

Then there are those dishes that exceed expectations. While barszcz is a beloved Polish dish, I’ll admit that the idea of beetroot soup wasn’t immediately appealing to me. Please learn from my mistake – the warm, ruby red soup, with its tortellini-like beef uszka, was a delicate, delicious highlight. So, too, was the pork goulash. It’s served in a traditional Polish style, stuffed within a thick potato pancake and pan-fried until the edges crisp and turn golden brown.

Our attention turns to the tall glass display cabinet stocked with sernik (cheesecake), szarlotka (apple cake, like the cocktail) and “Polish mix” – a combination of the former, with an added layer of poppyseed cake. Like Janusz says, it isn’t as sweet as the cakes we’re used to in Sydney, but it doesn’t need to be.

The “Polish vanilla slice” is a must. Halina carefully layers thick waves of vanilla budyn (a creamy, custardy Polish pudding) atop crackling sheets of light choux pastry to create the karpatka, so named for its resemblance to the snowy peaks of the Carpathian Mountains. It is elegant in its simplicity and gentle sweetness. As my Good Food colleague Dion Georgopoulos put it: “It’s actually the best thing ever.”

Janusz says it can be difficult to explain Polish cuisine to new customers, but it doesn’t take more than a single meal to convince them that they’ve been missing out.

“You know, sometimes I see people who have passed us on the street for many years on the footpath, and when they decide to take the step and come inside, they tell me, ‘Ah, I lost 10 years’,” he says.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.