Picture, if you will, the perfect long lunch. The room: cosy, humming, a fire burning in a stove at one end, a large kitchen at the other with another open fire roasting all kinds of delicious things. Wide windows look out over vast gardens; a field slopes towards a purple-green tree line, birds flit and clouds drift.

The pace is languid – there’s a sense that nothing matters outside these walls, that the world and work and the stresses of everyday life have slipped away, and time is of no consequence. As you settle in, you sip on a spritz made from pears from the garden, spiked with a touch of cognac, topped with prosecco. There are no decisions to be made.

Food begins to arrive. A single savoury zeppole (the Italian balls of fried dough) with a salty anchovy at its centre, along with the gentle forest whisper of sage. Softly smoked bonito, supple and slick, abutted by a creamy daikon remoulade. Curls of tender fire-touched calamari over a smear of squid ink. Hunks of fat focaccia. It’s only the beginning.

The opening bracket of snacks at Tedesca Osteria.

Tedesca Osteria, the five-year-old restaurant from chef Brigitte Hafner and hospitality and wine evangelist James Broadway, channels the kind of dreamy meals you might watch Stanley Tucci eating in Italy, or read about in some ingenue’s memoir about her romantic summer in the south of France.

That it’s done so well in our very own countryside, with such assuredness and beauty, feels almost unbelievable. Is it really this lovely? I admit I had my doubts when hearing gushing accounts from other diners. From a distance the food looked simple, rustic, nothing to get that excited about.

But you know what’s both tricky and wonderful about simple, rustic cooking? There’s nothing to hide behind. You live or die on the quality of your ingredients and the skill of your cooking. Freshness matters, handling things with care matters.

Produce from the productive kitchen garden features on the menu.

At Tedesca, you can stroll through the gardens that stock the plates you’ve been eating from. Hafner and her team look to eke out the best from every leaf, every ingredient, whether it was grown on-site or delivered by one of the many friends who help stock the restaurant.

Tedesca channels the kind of dreamy meals you might watch Stanley Tucci eating in Italy, or read about in some ingenue’s memoir about her romantic summer in the south of France.

My last visit happened at the end of a three-day trip around regional Victoria, during which I encountered a number of expensive meals that relied too heavily on artifice or luxury ingredients and were underwhelming (at best) as a result. What a relief to fall into the embrace of Tedesca’s hospitality, to see no caviar or truffle on the set menu but instead beautifully, simply cooked King George whiting – crisp skin, soft flesh – with fennel a la Grecque (poached in white wine and lemon) and a creamy shellfish sauce.

It would be hard to eat all these snacks, plus fish and pasta (slippery, silken pappardelle with an oxtail ragu that soars based on the intensity and quality of the stock from which it’s made) and meat and dessert if the meal didn’t take hours and hours. Often, a three-to-four hour tasting menu can be a stiff slog, but not here.

One of Tedesca’s great magic tricks is how relaxed everything feels, how unfussed the staff seem, how welcoming. They encourage you to wander around if the mood strikes you, to take your wine and go talk to the kitchen staff, to make friends with the gardener. By the time a large platter of hot smoked duck arrives – pink breast, melting leg – with sweet-sour cherries and the most delicious beans you’ve ever had, you are ready for it.

Broadway’s wine list is incredibly well-suited to the food, and it includes a handful of cult Australian bottles that are hard to find elsewhere. If I have any complaint, it’s that the list gets very expensive very quickly, with not much under $150 a bottle.

Tedesca has a well-earned reputation as one of the state’s hardest bookings to secure, but there are tricks if you’re determined. Tables for four are far more obtainable than tables for two, and Monday lunch is a much easier get than Friday or weekend reservations. (The restaurant only serves lunch; according to Broadway, it keeps the staff happier.) It is absolutely worth adding your name to the waiting list, as cancellations happen frequently.

Paris brest with hazelnut mousseline, poached pear and candied mandarin.

A group of friends and I took the day off work to visit on a recent Monday, and I have to say there’s a particular thrill to eating and drinking yourself silly on an early weekday afternoon. We joked that we wished there was a shop on site, where we could buy the cherries from the duck dish, the grey wool pants the waiters were wearing, and an antique mirror like the one in the bathroom.

You eat here and think, “This is how it should be”. It’s as if Tedesca was whispering to us: Life can be magnificent and full, on any day of the week, if you just put yourself in the right place, with the right friends, and in the hands of people who care deeply about pleasure and beauty. Amen.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.