About Sylva
For many chefs, a partnership with a fruit and veg wholesaler is the dream—and for Shuli Wimer, it’s become a quietly radical reality. In collaboration with Smith & Brock, her restaurant Sylva sings the praises of the overlooked and imperfect: a menu built on crates of so-called “second-class” produce, transformed into Mediterranean- and Middle Eastern-inspired dishes full of colour, texture and life.
The daily specials board reads like a love letter to ingenuity. One morning, it might offer ricotta-topped morning buns made from spent steamed milk; the next, crisp leek fritters served with creamy tzatziki. On our visit, a pastry parcel stuffed with melting Munster cheese, sweet peppers and spinach arrived warm and golden, lifted by a scattering of fresh radish and pickled cucumber. It’s unassuming, satisfying—and all the better for its simplicity.
Elsewhere, chicken schnitzel is crisp-edged, golden, and generous, folded into freshly baked frena bread, slathered with nutty tahini and spiked with a punch of zhug. Alongside it comes roasted aubergine, its silky interior topped with slow-cooked chickpeas and a drizzle of grassy olive oil. If anything’s missing, it’s a touch of acidity—but even without it, the balance between indulgence and nourishment is striking.
Desserts are where Sylva leans fully into pleasure. A giant pecan tart, rich with golden syrup and butter, nods to Wimer’s time at the River Cafe, while a dense, sweet Medjool date roll—made using her grandmother’s recipe—brings a sense of home and heritage to the table.
The setting is as thoughtful as the menu. Sylva’s small, whitewashed interior could easily feel stark, but terrazzo floors (a nod to Wimer’s Israeli roots), potted plants, and repurposed furniture soften the edges. It’s modern, yes—but with a lived-in charm that invites you to linger. Whether you’re dining solo or with a group, there’s a corner for you.
Everything about Sylva speaks of community, not concept. All suppliers are located within a two-kilometre radius—a fact that’s shared without fanfare. There are no buzzwords, no slogans, no claims to sainthood. Just thoughtful sourcing, minimal waste, and food that speaks for itself.
What sets Sylva apart isn’t just its ethics, or its talent for turning “ugly” veg into something beautiful. It’s the ease and quiet confidence with which it does so—a neighbourhood spot that feels timeless, grounded, and gently game-changing. Long may it stay just as it is.
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