A regular patron and friend of Guy Amiconi, Cardamone threw in his accountancy role and took over the restaurant in 1982. Chefs Vincenzo Alfonso and Joe Musso have since joined him in the business, tweaking the menu and starting the Amiconi Cooking School to share their love of la cucina italiana.

Pasta still features strongly on the menu – as Cardamone says, “There’s nothing like a good plate of pasta if you’re hungry”. Framed photos of beaming locals, some now long gone, look down on today’s customers relishing the cooking and conviviality at white-clothed tables. “It all goes back to the basic needs of a human being,” Cardamone says, looking up at the memory-covered walls. “Give him good food and make him laugh and you’ve got him for life.”

There’s still a waiting list every Saturday night. Customers are often ushered next door to the pub for a tipple while their table is re-set. ‘‘Every session is a show,” Cardamone beams. “People think we’re in the food industry but we’re not. We’re in the entertainment industry. Tonight, people will come to the restaurant to have a good time.”

Longevity in the restaurant industry takes hard work. When we meet, it’s a Friday afternoon and the three partners have been at the restaurant since mid-morning. They’ll be lucky to leave before midnight, but Cardamone doesn’t think about the hours. “If you start counting the hours you’ll go nuts,” he says, grinning. “We live this restaurant.” Perhaps that’s part of the success? “Statistics say 90 per cent of cafes and restaurants fail within two years. Having survived 50 years here, I think we’re doing something right.”

Penang Coffee House: 549 Burwood Road, Hawthorn. Call 9819 2092.

HUSBAND-and-wife team Danny Ko and Fee Hun pioneered Malaysian cuisine in Melbourne when they opened the diminutive Penang Coffee House in 1978. It was cooking straight from the home kitchens of Malaysia: simple but soaring with heat and bold flavours.

More than 33 years on, little has changed. Sure, the restaurant has moved to slightly bigger digs and there’s been a change of hands, but its heart remains true.

If anything’s changed over the years, it’s been the customers’ palates. “Originally we catered mostly for Australian tastes and so the food was less spicy,” explains Jeffrey Sing, who bought the restaurant in 1995,with family members Sharon Tang and Jimmy Hong. ‘‘Now people can take flavours like fermented fish because they’ve travelled, they’ve tasted. Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have served that.”

As the food has become more lively, so too has the neighbourhood. When Sing et al moved in, Burwood Road was far from the energetic strip it is today. “There was really only us,” Sing says.

Born in Malaysia, Sing migrated to Australia in 1990 aged 18 and studied at William Angliss Institute before sharpening his knives in his very own kitchen at Penang Coffee House. The restaurant had already cemented a reputation for its heart-warming laksa and generous portions at loose-change prices. Wisely, Sing stuck to the winning formula, adding a few tasteful flourishes from his homeland. “I looked at what my mother was cooking and tried to recreate that. Of course, with improvements,” he says, flashing a cheeky smile.

Today, steaming bowls and heaped plates are still delivered to the cheek-by-jowl laminate tables. The open kitchen reflects the sight, smells and colour of Asian hawkers markets. All throughout service, Sing pops his out of the kitchen for approval, appraisal and conversation from the crowd. It makes for a great atmosphere. “If people want fine dining and a romantic atmosphere, this is not the place,” Sing says matter-of-factly. “It’s comfortable and casual, just the way we like it to be.”

Vlado’s: 61 Bridge Road, Richmond. Call 9428 5833.

IVAN Glavis dons dainty white gloves and pulls a side of porterhouse steak from a refrigerated glass cabinet. In one swift movement he slices a thick slab from the end and places it on a smoking charcoal grill. It sizzles and he smiles.

For the past 27 years, Glavis has been the manager and understudy at the much-celebrated steakhouse Vlado’s. The venerable restaurant, which can trace its origins back to an earlier incarnation in Smith Street, Fitzroy, opened its doors on Bridge Road for the first time in 1964. It has been serving the same set four-course menu ever since.

Owner Vlado Gregurek is himself a living legend, named a Melbourne Food and Wine Festival Legend in 1994 and awarded a Medal of the Order of Australia for his services to the industry. “I often say Vlado is a man in a million,’’ says Glavis, seated in the dimly lit dining room. ‘‘But maybe I’m wrong, maybe he’s one man in 10 million.”

At 81, Croatian-born Gregurek may no longer stand behind the grill every day, but the charcoal still smoulders, the house-made sausages still sizzle, and the kitchen still prepares 21 kilograms of mustard, week in, week out, for 11 months a year. “Red meat was his passion and that’s why he decided to go with that,” Glavis explains of the protein-heavy menu that hasn’t changed for almost five decades. “There’s a saying: if you do what you love, what you’re passionate about, you’ll never work a day in your life. That’s his baby,” he says, pointing across the room to the grill.

If the walls could talk, Vlado’s would have some tall stories to tell. Already they’re plastered with memorabilia, industry awards and photos of sporting heroes looking chuffed beside Gregurek. “Anyone who is anyone has walked through this door, both from the legal and illegal side of things,” Glavis says, grinning. “The best one was when we had Chopper Read upstairs one lunchtime, and Justice Cummins downstairs.”

They come for the meat, specially selected for Vlado’s as it has been since the restaurant began. Many consider it the best meat in Melbourne. “The only thing that’s changed is we’ve all gotten older and uglier,” says Glavis. The newest team member has been under Gregurek’s wing for 10 years.

Years ago, when Gregurek was considering a revamp, he asked the late billionaire Richard Pratt, a regular customer, for his opinion. “He said, ‘Vlado, don’t do anything. You serve real food, not pretend food’.”

So he didn’t.