The Taste of Memory

Caphs stands proud, if a little tired, on Franklin Street in Manuka. It is, after all, Canberra’s oldest continuously operating eatery.

Constructed in 1926 by the Notaras family, it was opened as the Liberty Café. By virtue of the fact nothing else had been built in the fledgling national capital, it was the place for socialising for those who had been unceremoniously uprooted from Sydney and Melbourne and dumped in what was little more than a sheep paddock with great expectations.

It survived the swinging sixties and seventies as Mogambo’s—a romantic night-out destination for baby boomers and a constant influx of newcomers bolstering Canberra’s public service ranks. In 1973, after various changes in ownership, John Stefano and Partners named the restaurant Caphs, representing the initials of each of the business partner’s first names; Chris, Anthony, Philip, Helen and Steve. In 1990 it reverted to Notaras family ownership and is now run by Manuel (Manny) Notaras.

Still serving the honest Greek Australian fare of its past, Manny sits in a front table of Caphs under the high and ornate ceilings, proudly watching his two sons learning how to operate the business. His eldest, Theodore, is part of a new generation of born-andbred Canberrans with an entrepreneurial bent and a hankering to be part of what is now a nationally lauded restaurant renaissance. Theo is planning a big make-over for the venerable old café —with Manuka on the cusp of some large, new developments. He wants to make it great again.

In many ways Caphs symbolises Canberra’s restaurant history. Born of necessity, buoyed by bureaucracy and now being made-over to compete with a new generation of hip and happening eateries. It’s a saturated marketplace as Canberra has historically boasted more places to eat out per head of population than any other Australian city.

Of course, Manuka is no longer the hotspot it was up until the 1990s— when La Grange pulled a steady stream of revellers from across the city until the early hours, and the Ottoman had queues lining up around the corner.

Those crowds are now filling the Kingston Foreshore, NewActon or Braddon. Or even Barton, which is where the Ottoman moved to in 2000, and now home to a thriving new restaurant precinct of its own.

Twenty-six years on and Ottoman still stands out on Canberra’s culinary landscape. The brainchild of Istanbul native Serif Kaya and his wife Gulbahar, it is a 260-seat fine diner that has notched up more local, national and international recognition than perhaps any other establishment.

Serif took a chance on a one-way ticket to Australia in 1980 when he was just 18, and by a quirk of fate he landed in Canberra when he was offered a 'free bus tour' by his ESL school in Sydney. It was more of a political hijacking when he found himself and the other students deposited outside Old Parliament House for an education rally.

Not feeling overly rebellious, Serif instead wandered the peaceful, leafy streets—falling immediately in love—and formulated a plan to relocate his home and studies to the capital. Not long after, his studies were abandoned for Serif’s 'calling'.

“My mum was a good cook, it always felt natural for me to be in the kitchen. It is what I love.”

He hatched a plan with a fellow Turk—his future mother-in-law to be exact—to start up a small Turkish eatery, Alanya, in Manuka’s Style Arcade.

Even in the eighties Canberra was a multicultural city and when people visited, they took to Serif’s zucchini puffs and sardines with gusto.

“I always tried to cook simple and honest food. My zucchini puffs, they are still some of my biggest sellers.”

When he and Gulbahar first opened Ottoman in 1992 in Manuka (upstairs off Franklin Street), such was Serif’s acclaim that it was not unusual to see prime ministers deposited at the door, MPs of all political persuasions tucking into platters of mezze, and a hopeful queue outside.

Despite the naysayers, Serif moved to Barton to massively expand the operation. It was a little away from the action, yet Ottoman still attracts the big functions, loyal crowds, chef hats, and is considered a special place for a meal.

Serif puts his longevity and success down to Canberra having an international community, a discerning palate and disposable incomes to dine out on. Plus, he and Gulbahar have put in the relentless hours to keep their business a success.

“People assume it is a glamorous job. But five per cent of it is glamorous, the rest is hard work.”

Serif also pays tribute to the politicians who have patronised Ottoman over the years. “I’ve always stayed neutral and welcomed everyone,” he answers with diplomacy.

Similarly, inveterate long-luncher, political commentator and former editor of The Canberra Times, Jack Waterford, can’t imagine how Canberra’s restaurant scene would ever have flourished were it not for the patronage of generations of politicians, journalists and lobbyists.

While he laments that these days journalists are too busy catering to a 24-hour news cycle to take contacts to lunch, his own career was forged by a ready exchange of information between him and hungry public servants, served over a sizzling plate of garlic prawns and a bottle or three of wine.

“In many ways Santa Lucia (established in 1975 in Kingston and operating as Salotto Bar and Kitchen today) became my de facto office. In a town such as Canberra, information is a vital currency.”

Over the years he would frequent the prominent restaurants of the day—Peaches in Campbell, Alberts in Lyneham, Nobbs in Manuka, and Noah’s, Seasons, The Bacchus Tavern and The Charcoal (still going strong) in the city.

“Of course, it all came to a crushing halt in 1986 with the introduction of the Fringe Benefits Tax,” says Jack, of the sudden end to restaurant largesse that was done on expense accounts.

By the 1990s, the industry had to work through leaner times, and out of that, a more competitive generation of restaurateurs was born.

Chris Hansen was doing an Arts Degree at the Australian National University when he took up some part-time shifts at the university fine-diner, Vivaldi.

His boss was David Wood, who would go on to establish Atlantic, a mould-breaking Manuka restaurant which, alongside Juniperberry, Mezzalira, Fringe Benefits and The Lobby, would gather positive reviews from national publications. It was around this time the rest of the country started to take note of what was popping up around the nation’s capital.

But the destination Chris would devote eight years to—rolling what he estimates to be 10,000 duck pancakes—was a restaurant that really lifted the bar high for Canberra: Chairman and Yip on Bunda Street. Working alongside Josiah Li, Chris and the team would cater to the city’s business elite. Not to mention Kim Beazley, the Labor Leader who would turn up faithfully on a Sunday night at the start of every parliamentary sitting week.

Chris, who now runs his own hospitality recruitment firm servicing the likes of Pialligo Estate and the Canberra Rex, says Canberra is benefitting from a new generation of self-starters who are well travelled and obsessed with food.

“The great thing about Canberra is that its young people are global and well connected. They have been to the hottest new places in Tokyo and New York and they bring their creative energies back here because there is an industry to sustain them.”

There are also some who have taken a little bit of Canberra to the rest of the world, with Chris noting his old Chairman supervisor and former Ottoman manager, Paul Downie, has notched up a stellar career working for Heston Blumenthal in London and managing the number-one ranked restaurant in the world, Eleven Madison Park in New York.

Luckily for those of us who stay, the scene has continued to evolve. Chris cites Pulp Kitchen, Vincent, Lazy Su and XO as among his current favourites, believing the future focus will narrow even further to fresh, clean food.

“I think there will continue to be a focus on the provenance of food and sourcing quality and sustainable product—certainly I see that is where Pialligo Estate is focused.”

Bar and restaurant owner Frank Condi agrees that Canberra no longer needs to exploit its public sector and political clientele, because it is increasingly a hub for gastronomy by virtue of its geographical location.

“I think we have all underestimated Canberra’s unique position where we are surrounded by productive country, by farms, by wineries and within a short distance to the sea.”

“Part of the reason we are riding this wave now is because of our access to this produce.”

Condi also cites the city’s booming coffee culture—and coterie of craft roasters—as part of our appeal. He singles out World Barista Champion and ONA founder Sasa Sestic for “making a huge contribution to our city—the guy is a genius.”

Frank, who cut his hospitality teeth helping run the Private Bin nightclub and connected eatery Waffles, has helped create some of the city’s most popular bars and restaurants, including Public, Shorty’s and Mr Wolf. He’s also behind Edgar’s Inn and Mama Dough in Ainslie.

He says the challenge is not so much attracting business in this age of eating out most nights, or ordering Uber Eats—instead, Frank thinks it comes down to the oldfashioned basics.

“I’ve always believed in welcoming people. I think if service is no good and if the place doesn’t feel relaxed and hospitable then people aren’t going to want to be there no matter what the food is like.”

Having devoted his energies since the age of 17 to hospitality, Frank can vouch that not everyone gets this basic right.

“If we talk about a booming restaurant scene in Canberra then we also need to acknowledge that it is still a hard industry to survive in. Yes, we have a lot of new places opening up every week, but there are just as many that close down very quietly.

“It’s a bit of a revolving door and while it’s easy to get everyone’s attention when you open something new, surviving five or 10 years in this city is a real achievement.”

Who knows what the future will bring?

Words: Emma Macdonald