Malibu Sydney — Restaurant in Sydney

It was a picture-perfect Friday evening—the kind of evening that practically begs you to indulge in something delightful. My colleague and I thought, "Why not treat ourselves to Malibu? A salad, a sandwich—how could we go wrong?" Little did I know, this would become a tale not of tasty treats but of terror.

We stood in line, sweltering under the heat of the sun like weary travellers crossing a desert, eagerly dreaming of the culinary oasis awaiting us. I could almost taste that glorious first bite of a chicken schnitzel sandwich, mozzarella melting in my mind. My colleague ordered, and then, it was my turn to step up to the counter—a moment that would soon haunt me.

I confidently requested a Caprese salad, as the menu listed it: $13.50 for bocconcini, tomato, basil, balsamic vinegar, and olive oil. Simple, refreshing, no frills. Then, daring to dream, I thought I'd follow the logic of the other salad options—add chicken schnitzel for $2.50, bringing my total to $16. A reasonable sum for a humble lunch, right?

Wrong. Oh, how wrong I was.

The owner himself, busy assembling my salad, presented me with the total: $21. My confusion must’ve been visible—how could this be? Surely, a mistake had been made! So, in the most gentle, polite tone imaginable (because trust me, I’ve heard stories about this guy), I asked him to explain the math. And that’s when the dark clouds rolled in, and the transformation began.

His face twisted. His eyes narrowed. His entire demeanour shifted as if he were suddenly possessed by the spirit of rage incarnate. In a voice that could’ve summoned thunder, he barked , “THESE ARE MY PRICES. IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, YOU CAN GET OUT!”

Mate, I was floored. Here I am, half his size, half his age, just asking for clarity, and suddenly it’s like I’ve unleashed a monster. He didn’t just go off at me—he made sure everyone else in line copped it too. The entire queue stood there, stunned into silence, watching as I was verbally thrown out over a salad.

Now, don’t get me wrong, his food’s good, but at that moment, the principle of it all just didn’t sit well with me. A salad shouldn’t come with a side of aggression, no matter how tasty.

But wait, there’s more. A week later, my colleague braved the Malibu battlefield again—this time, without me. And wouldn’t you know it, the owner actually asked, “Where’s your friend? Or did she find somewhere better? Somewhere cheaper?” And to top it off, he sent my mate back with a message for me: “Tell her to go and stuff herself.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, the food’s decent—but being spoken to like that? Not worth it. If you’re keen to overpay for a salad and cop an earful, go ahead. As for me, I think I’ll find somewhere better—and definitely...

If you ever fancied yourself a person who is kind to hospitality workers, come and put yourself to the test at Malibu!

Malibu is rebellious in its simplicity, as if the owner himself is flipping his middle finger to the gourmet fusion trends of cafes nearby (shove your sourdough). The menu reads as a love letter to classic sandwiches - dynamic, yet not too indulgent. It’s deliciously, delectably basic - it’s what a sandwich should be.

I recommend starting with the Malibu club - you will be back to try the others, don’t worry. Ask for the Vienna bread.

Despite the overly sensitive one star reviews, the line is typically out the door throughout the day, as customers prepare their orders in their heads, reciting their greeting carefully so as to not receive anger. He’s smart - he doesn’t want pretentious repeat customers.

For those who leave one star reviews or dare argue with this man, I ask you to question why you do this. Do you think you’re better than him, a mere sandwich maker? He’s an artist (and not the subway kind). Enjoy typing out your whinging reviews, gazing to the left of your screen into a miserable present and to the right into an unknown future, waiting, praying that you are or will be what you think you are - nobody cares about you, stop.

Committed Malibu customers understand themselves and they understand life - you enter rooms respectfully - clearly state what you want with a please and thank you - crack a smile and you’ll get one in return. The owner of Malibu is a mirror, approach with reverence, and don’t be narcissistic lest...

The chicken schnitzel sandwiches were delicious and very fresh, however unfortunately the service was terrible. My partner initially went in to order for the 3 of us, as we didn’t want to crowd the entrance, given it’s only a small space. He was told only 2 per person and then ignored him and served the next person. I then entered the store with him and waited our turn to order the 3 we were after. He then argued again with my partner saying only 2 per person, which we explained 2 for my partner and then 1 for myself. Then asked us what type of bread we were after, so we asked for all 3 as wholemeal. He then said he only had enough for 2 (not specifying what), so we said 1 white and 2 wholemeal is fine then. He then mumbled and said only has enough chicken for 2 sandwiches. When he was serving up the chicken it was clear there was more than enough for 2 sandwiches. Hence we thought this might have been done with malice. You’d think you would want to make more $, bit weird. Felt like the infamous soup scene on Seinfeld. Good food but despicable service, won’t be returning. As other reviews have indicated, he would benefit from front of house staff or even a slight attitude adjustment, it goes a long way being...