Sitting in Terry Higgins’s corner store Juno and Sons, a small, community-minded and magnificently produce-lined shop and cafe in Elizabeth Bay, the door swings open with locals and long-time customers every five minutes.

“Hello, lovely,” Higgins says to a visitor arriving with their regular coffee order and a look of excitement at the Basque cheesecake and lemon currant tea biscuits on the counter.

Two metres away, at a long central table holding bowls of lemons and tomatoes, packets of Hunted and Gathered chocolate, jars of Ugly Food and Co chilli oil, bottles of Katie Swift passionfruit, and strawberry and rose, cordials, stacks of Japanese ceramic bowls and a vase of tall and leafy bay leaf branches, two women eat toasties.

Having met in the store a few months ago, the pair, munching on ham and tomato relish, and free-range chicken and provolone, toasties (made with focaccia from Organic Bread Bar on South Dowling Street) from today’s menu, are now close friends.

“What do you think?” Higgins asks them. Nods are given, both too engrossed in their sandwiches to talk.

Even an hour at Juno and Sons, which opened in 2023, shows its unique offering. People eat at the communal table inside, or drink coffee on the yellow metal stools on the footpath, with a sense of belonging.

They come for a chat with Higgins as much as for a ripe fresh tomato, a takeaway box of house-made pork and chive won-tons or a packet of ham. They come for cultured butter, a loaf of sourdough or to collect their hamper of hand-chosen condiments, olive oil, sherry vinegar, canned anchovies and ceramic plates.

Everyone from children, artists, heads of major companies and garbos after their morning shift come for a slice of blueberry lemon olive oil cake – light, buttery, plump with a crunchy coffee crystal top – and a chat about their week. Higgins knows them all.

People sip good, strong Little Marionette coffee outside under the jacaranda trees, edged between multi-storied terraces and apartment blocks, and shoot the breeze. Neighbours stop while walking their dog for an avocado, eggs, pickles, salami and a Juno and Sons tote.

I am at the table in minutes eating a Juno Plate, a marvellous daily platter which today features free-range smoked ham from Hungerford Meat Co in Branxton, Meredith Dairy marinated feta, Acide zucchini pickles, tomato, avocado and house dressing.

Minutes into that I’m chatting with fellow eaters at the table. This is Higgins’s unique touch. The store/cafe feels like a visit to a home but with an ever-changing list of drop-in guests and a rotating and seasonal menu.

Higgins, whose extensive hospitality background includes 17 years working with Rockpool (from waiter at the now-closed Rockpool in The Rocks to managing Rockpool Qantas and a director of Rockpool Dining Group), says Juno and Sons was borne of her love of food.

“I love sharing it,” she says. “And the time came for me to open my own place. The idea and concept of my store is that you walk in and you can get everything. You come in today and if you need to get a birthday present for your father, there’ll be something in here we can do, whether he loves olives or sardines or whatever. Everything is here.

“You can get a meal. A great coffee. Some cake. You can get things for dinner. And we have ice-cream. But everything here is curated by me. So it’s all my favourite things, made by my favourite people.”

There is a strong range of Australian products as well as imported items. Everything on the savoury menu uses produce you can buy in the shop.

Fresh bread loaves, and beautiful fruit buns, from Paddington micro bakery Urban Ferment, led by Gary Armstrong (formerly one of Rockpool’s head sommeliers), come daily. His hot bagels arrive Sunday morning.

Different cakes (sold only by the slice) and biscuits grace the counter each week. You can come for breakfast or lunch and, every second week, coffee walnut pound cake is available, a cherished event anticipated around the neighbourhood, particularly by the garbos.

“Juno and Sons is meant to be social, inclusive and interesting,” Higgins says. “From new babies to 80-year-olds, I always introduce them. So everyone meets each other.”