The pun-laden menu is the best part of the Matcha Mylkbar experience, one that unfortunately caters more for an audience of cameras rather than humans. I had been rather excited to try the fare here, inspired by glorious sights of green-bunned burgers, blue lattes and colourful bowls. Those things exist, but sadly is where the positive impression ends. Everything at Matcha Mylkbar is a cringe as if this is some sarcastic metaphorical commentary on the vegan food movement, of which I am more than a fan. Blue drinks! Milk spelt mylk! Vegan eggs! Just, no.
Service was frankly bizarre. We were fine with the thirty minute wait time, but then had to sit outside and explain to three seperate staff members we were meant to have a table inside. Staff were obsessed with servicing a table of friends who were doing birthday shit rather than anyone else here, and the food order took a ridiculous amount of time to arrive, we had pondered if it was still being plucked from the earth.
We ordered the twenty dollar black burger combo which was a black bean, quinoa and fermented garlic patty, caramelised onion, charcoal bun served with purple potatoes. Visually it looks stunning for sure, but then the only stunning thing about the taste is how much it costs. The bun we had wasn’t fresh or soft, the potatoes were dry. Patty/ filling just had nothing happening, it was the equivalent of a Tuesday night rave. Also mystery mushroom substance.
Wanted to like this place, just couldn’t. Gimmicks, smoke, charcoal. Drinks were fine but nothing of merit beyond looks. Also, arrived at different times. For me, vegetarianism is not a fashion or hashtag, it’s meant to be a humble, conscious means of eating. Maybe the pancakes were better.