To cross the threshold of the woolloomooloo is to go through a looking glass. To shed the skin of our outer selves. We, the children of asphalt, plastic, noise and junk, discover wood and music and all that is authentic.

Woolloomooloo, rediscovering for a moment the lost paradise.

Try to picture the Australian scrub, which no human eye has ever contemplated, kissed by the sun blazing its purity into the world. Young black kangaroos frolic in the ruby aridity. Valhalla of the blessed; the believers of the region call it "woolloomooloo".
Our purpose is simply this : to render you blissful, helping you to voyage, voyage into yourself.

You penetrate a forest of objects filled with music of the world : sculptures, masks, batiks, Chinese - or maybe Alpine - chests, candelabra, even an old Quebecois boat and an 1894 Linotype (remains of the printing house which once occupied the premises.) And then, all those spice jars, a symphonic orchestra of scents. And the tea tins, antechamber orchestra.....
Perhaps not the paroles of Prevert, but for us it is still poetry !

Here your cravings are an artists canvas - a palette of One Thousand and One savors. Fantastic flavors which blossom on your (taste) buds, and sweep you off your feet in tasty turbulence. A Sarabande of warm and cold. A belly dance. A seasoned two-step. And tea for two.

Here you dine, seated in a chair or on a cushion. We venture to blend the cuisines before, during and after the blend of cultures. It is good, it is original, and it is beautiful as only each detail can make it.

The moment you enter you begin the feast - a feast for the eyes, for the ears, for the nose and for the palate.