Goodness bowl, $16.50; poached eggs with sauteed winter greens, $14.50; gruyere and ricotta toastie with kimchi, $10.50; love teas, $4.50

o sugar, no dairy, no gluten, no red meat, no alcohol, no fun … that’s pretty much been my eating regimen as I try to sort out a few issues no doubt rooted in a winter of over indulgence. It makes finding a place for lunch more difficult than usual, but then I recall hearing about a recent arrival in Victoria St in the CBD.

A few doors down from the ever-reliable (but gluten and sugar heavy) Jackman and McRoss bakery is Alceme – an urban retreat which describes itself as “a mecca for wellbeing”. At street level is a spacious eatery that many may remember from its Sirens days, while upstairs is a generous timber-floored space designed for yoga classes. A day spa is due to open next month.

While I am not averse to a bit of resting child, downward dog or saluting the sun, today I just need nourishment after a rather frustrating morning spent trying to clean my dear sister’s garage. She’s not quite bad enough to appear on the TV show Hoarders, but getting her to part with anything is quite a feat. A veteran of many moves, particularly in my transient 20s and 30s, I find it a little easier to jettison my junk. And throwing out someone else’s stuff is even easier.

With Mum in tow, we arrive at Alceme just after 1pm on a Friday. A large, bright space, it’s about a third full. Pendant lights illuminate the marble counter, upon which sits an array of baked goods including vegan brownies. A nearby fridge cabinet is packed with kale, silverbeet, pears and kombucha.

There are a few faces I recognise including a prominent architect and urban design consultant who’s been engaged by the Hobart City Council to suggest height limits for CBD developments. Given the growing pains Hobart is experiencing, it must be a tough gig.

We take a copper-topped table by the window with comfy cream tub chairs. The sill is lined with tall glass carafes, each containing a single lemon – simple but pleasing to the eye.

When we get to ordering, it seems we should have come earlier … the golden and red lentil dahl mum’s landed on is all gone, as are the chickpea and coriander falafels that form part of the goodness bowl.

The waitress suggests substituting the falafels for haloumi (technically dairy and flouting my food rules but I’m keen), while my sister goes for poached eggs and Mum selects a toastie. Sis sips an almond milk chai as we wait to eat and Mum and I share a licorice love tea, which has a sweet aniseedy aftertaste.

A vibrant mix of baked and ribboned carrots, baby spinach, beetroot dip, red cabbage, quinoa, sun-dried tomato, and coconut yoghurt, the goodness bowl does not disappoint. The salty strips of haloumi are the only guilt-inducing ingredient, but how can you say no to grilled cheese?

The eggs – one perfectly runny, the other a little hard – are served with wilted greens, triangles of grain toast and drizzled with a salsa verde. Mum is a little underwhelmed with her gruyere and house ricotta and kimchi toastie. I catch her gazing enviously at my bowl.

In the kitchen is Zena Roberts (pictured left) who previously worked at Peppermint Bay and also ran Pepperberries cafe at the Art Farm in Birchs Bay, south of Woodbridge. The latter reopened recently as Five Bob Farm, trading 11am to 4pm Thursday to Sunday.

Zena says The Kitchen, as it’s known, is offering food that fits with Alceme’s ethos: to nourish the body and the soul. Ingredients are sourced locally from small, backyard growers. She says while the focus is strongly on plantbased goods, house-cured salmon and Boks bacon are also on the menu.

The Kitchen opened in June, a few weeks after yoga, dance and meditation classes began. “We seem to be getting busier and busier,” Zena says.

Alceme manager and yoga teacher Priya Tahere says restoration of the historic building – originally built for the Independent Order of Odd Fellows – has taken more than a year.

She says in the 1850s the IOOF became the first fraternity to accept women as members. They must have been a fairly enlightened bunch.

“It has always been a place of gatherings,” Priya says, “and it does have a very nurturing energy.” Om shanti indeed.