Alex Meimetis: As a child, I always loved cooking with my hands. I always loved creating my own stuff as a kid, making a mess in the kitchen. That was a big thing for me back then.

Conversation with a chef: Where did you grow up?

Port Melbourne.

Oh, I live in Port Melbourne.

I grew up on Bay Street and went to Nott Street Primary.

A good place to grow up.

It was great. Back in the day, it was a bit rough.

So, your mum was a good cook?

She was a great cook, actually. Her desserts were astonishing, fantastic. She had a northern Greek culture, which meant great pies and syrups. And very, very strong alcohol to go with that. It was a crazy mix, but very, very good.

Would you help her in the kitchen?

I would, actually. At the start, it was just a couple of little things, but then more and more. It just never stopped. It led to what I’m doing today.

Was your dad from Greece as well?

Yes, he was.

Did you travel back as a family?

Only for holidays.

Do you remember Greece when you were little?

The beaches and the fish, the Greek festivals. Going out to the fields, getting watermelon. And again, it was food: kebabs on the spits, all of that. Crazy good times.

Growing up, did you hang out with other Greek families?

Most of my family were on the Australian side, so mainly Easter and Christmas. But we’d do the classic Greek party: lamb on the spit, all the good stuff. Good times
When did you think hospitality might be your path?

My father always had small restaurants in Port Melbourne. When he moved overseas, I went too. That’s how I ended up living overseas for a few years. I met my wife there and got into hospitality more seriously.

Where was that?

Athens. My dad closed the restaurant, and I moved on to a couple of others. One was Southeast Asian, which did quite well, and another was a beer club. I just kept learning. That’s why I went to France for a bit, to do my apprenticeship.

You’d already learned on the job.

Exactly. I went to Fontainebleau. The apprenticeship involved a lot of washing dishes and cleaning. That’s also where I met my wife. We went back to Greece, then eventually decided it was time to come home. We had good times over there. Business was good until the economic crisis hit.

Putting your title in front of people doesn’t work in hospitality. Everyone has expectations of themselves, and that can create tension. So you have to prove yourself. I don’t talk too much, I show. I’ll cook. I’ll take over part of the kitchen, create dishes, show my abilities to everyone: exec chefs, commis chefs. That’s how you win respect.

Alex Meimetis, Koi Toy

You got into Southeast Asian food quite early in your career?

Yes. I always loved Asian food. That’s how I got into Chin Chin. Started with Chinese, learning bits and pieces, but Thai cuisine really sparked something. The simplicity, fresh vegetables, fish sauce, the balance. That inspired me, and I fell into Southeast Asian cooking. I even opened a restaurant over there. People responded really well. But every start is good then people move on. Overseas, it’s different to Australia, more pop-ups, less stability. Here, people are more loyal to existing restaurants.

There’s a modern renaissance happening now in Greek food in Athens, isn’t there?

Exactly. In Australia, you get classic Greek: pita, tzatziki. In Greece, it’s different. They use ingredients you won’t find here; beans, chickpeas, clay pots. Completely different cooking methods.

Does that change the dining public?

Yes. Traditional Greek cuisine is strong, but international cuisine can be less stable. Sushi is huge there now, which was surprising. Even seafood restaurants are doing sushi. It works, but it’s unstable. That’s something I’ve noticed over the years.

I am always fascinated by chefs who move around different restaurants and different countries. When you walk into a new kitchen for the first time, what are you looking for? How do you position yourself?

The first thing I look at is the ingredients. I walk in and ask, what are they cooking? What’s their base? That tells you a lot about what’s really going on. You look at the meats, are they cured? You look at the spices. You start putting things together. You imagine what’s coming out of that kitchen. From there, it’s questions. A lot of questions and a lot of thinking about how things might work together. I look at how things are created. That’s where you start. I look at the fridge straight away. That tells you how the kitchen works.

You were recently working in Geelong as head chef. When was your first head chef role?

In Australia, my first head chef role was at Köy Restaurant in South Melbourne. It was a Turkish restaurant. Then I was head chef at Evening Star and became Executive chef, then Claypots. They opened one in Hardware Lane as well.

When you come into a kitchen as the new head chef, with an existing team, how do you get that team on side? What’s your leadership approach?

When you come in, you go in on a trial. It’s about how you win the team. You need to show what you can do. What I do is come in, look at the menu, sit down with the team and say, “This is how I want us to do this.” I’ve already worked through the details, so it’s about showing procedure and consistency. Putting your title in front of people doesn’t work in hospitality. Everyone has expectations of themselves, and that can create tension. So you have to prove yourself. I don’t talk too much, I show. I’ll cook. I’ll take over part of the kitchen, create dishes, show my abilities to everyone: exec chefs, commis chefs. That’s how you win respect.

And once the team is established, how do you keep it together?

There’s a fine line between respect and camaraderie. I don’t like going out drinking with staff. I keep distance there. But I’m very open to discussing problems at work — personal or professional. If it comes down to personal issues, we try to support people however we can. In Geelong, we had access to support services for staff, which helped a lot. But you need a line. I wouldn’t hang out with my team regularly. Maybe Christmas, Easter; those one-off occasions. Respect is important. In Geelong, my role was more executive chef. I was responsible for multiple venues, creating menus for game days, combining kitchen teams. We worked closely, supported each other, but I always kept that professional line.

When you came to Koi Toy which is brand new, were you involved in setting up the kitchen and menu?

Yes. The menu was mine, and the team was mine. The venue was already built, but I adjusted equipment and flow to suit how we work.

Are you happy with how it flows now?

Yes. The start was rough. Every new place has ups and downs, but we opened on the 17th of February, and the response has been enormous.

Who’s coming in?

Locals, but also lots of people from Melbourne. There’s been good publicity, and we’re seeing repeat locals, which is comforting. We adjusted the menu a bit because we’re in a more Muslim area. We avoid pork cross-contamination, don’t use alcohol in sushi rice, and offer halal options. People have responded very positively. We want everyone to feel welcome.

You described the menu as a playground, playing with tradition. What do you mean by that?

Classic Japanese food is sushi, sashimi, very traditional. We respect that, but we also play. We use Australian noodles, imported spices, saffron from Spain, mixing things thoughtfully. The idea is highlighting Japanese cuisine but infusing it. Tweaking it enough that people feel comfortable but excited. It’s modern, organised, still respectful.

What’s the best way to experience Koi Toy?

The set menu. You get sashimi, proteins, mushrooms, chicken wings, butter chicken Kyoto-style, Japanese curry spices in a butter chicken format. There’s lamb shank ukon: a curry using turmeric cream combined with crispy noodles. It’s unique, but people love it.

Looking out at these buildings and knowing this was a prison, Ned Kelly, all that history, do you still feel it coming to work?

Every time. Especially at night when it’s lit up. This is a unique place. All the venues here, including BrewDog, it’s about blending history with what’s here now. People feel that combination. I remember it as a prison. I came here as a kid to visit someone one of my brother’s mates. It closed around 1987, I think.

It’s an amazing precinct now.

There’s more coming; more apartments, more development.

What advice would you give a young person starting out as a chef?

If you love cooking, follow it, but don’t believe the media or TV shows. It’s not glamour. It’s hard work. You don’t get acknowledged without patience and effort. You need to move step by step. Patience is everything. I still love it because I love good food. I love creating something and seeing someone enjoy it. That’s my happiness. That’s what my mother did: cooking to please people. I love doing that too.

Koi Toy, Pentridge Shopping Centre, T16, Ground Floor/1 Champ St, Coburg