Levantine Hill – Yarra Valley – Sunday 14 November 2021 – Lunch

There is no doubt in my mind that you can have a very enjoyable lunch, think you could return again in the future, but not recommend to others going in the first place. If you are confused that is my intention.

The situation is not complicated, but there are a series of levers that are pulling my thoughts on Levantine Hill in different directions. My conclusion, which I rarely begin with, is that this was a disappointing experience. Most of the elements that lead to this conclusion are quite distinct to each other.

Expense is something that I do not talk about in my writing, because I find it often is polarising, and rarely impacts my level of enjoyment of a meal. Here, the value is quite simply appalling. Yet I was so determined to try Levantine Hill that even after Catherine called the restaurant to confirm how the menu works, I insisted on going. Why was I so determined? I know Teage Ezard is no longer connected, but I was hoping his lengthy tenure would still be a creative influence.

There are different options, and a caution that this is better for groups from the outset. However, it was Catherine and me, along with our toddler. For $90 per person you get shared snacks, and the choice of two dishes. Given our penchant for dessert, this meant one main, with some additional sides, and dessert. Conservatively this meant our main was a $100 dish. It was not.

Before I get to the food, which was good to pleasant, with some particular highlights, the service from one of our waitpersons was a concern when contrasted with the prior day at Oakridge Estate. Unfortunately she was simply flat about being at work. Not rude, maybe a little abrupt, but simply not concerned with how our meal was. With a menu description of “Persian spice poached chicken, mushroom oil, barberries, broccolini, tahini labne” I wasn’t sure how the main would be presented so I asked “is there a lot of broccolini, or do you think we should order the salad as a side”. She said the broccolini was chopped up and there was a decent amount, but not a lot. What she didn’t say is that the poached chicken basically comes out as a salad. She allowed us to buy a side salad for a salad!

In a sense that is a pretty mild critique, but she also hit my chair countless times as she walked past the table, and eventually we did our best to interact with the other more attentive staff. One in particular was terrific and seemed to notice the level of our service was not acceptable at a high achieving restaurant. The main floor manager was also terrific and showed a lot more enthusiasm for our little boy, which is always a nice touch.

The poached chicken dish was pleasant but did lack the flavour intensity you would hope for. It was honestly quite akin to a cafe chicken salad. We had been told the fries were beer battered and intense, but not for Catherine who is less gluten tolerant, but I wanted them anyway. Again, in trying to be accommodating our waitperson brought more normal fries, but obviously hadn’t heard I wanted to try the others. It was innocent, but unattentive. She hadn’t mentioned a gluten-free option and we still paid the amount for the gangster fries that I never tried.

The snacks to begin were generous with delicious hummus, and a pomegranate drizzled labne. Normal and gluten-free bread for the table, olives, and some other offerings including cucumber with taromasalata, and a “chickpea crisp” which was a real highlight, showing the flavour intensity the kitchen had the ability to achieve. Slight touches again were missed, with no extra bread offered, even though we’d noticed most tables receiving it without even asking.

Perhaps we took too long with our snacks because, as the staff whisked our remaining dips away, we received our mains. Immediately. At exactly the same time. I’ve spoken about the chicken. Naturally we asked for a break before dessert, worried that our mains would be cleared and dessert would appear on the table simultaneously. We were offered a break, but reminded we needed to leave by 2pm. The question on our mind was if we had of selected the four courses how would we have eaten everything in a bit over two hours. It dawned on us that the staff were under pressure to get us to move on, and that is the only explanation why we would not receive a break at all between snacks and our main. It was not comfortable dining.

The hazelnut semifreddo, with rose water pastry, strawberries, honey roasted nuts, and white chocolate, was a fitting dish for a reputable dining destination. It was a sweet way to end proceedings, and again highlighted the flair of the kitchen. We’d had a break and could enjoy the dish, and relax a touch before we ventured back into the windy and rainy Sunday weather outside.

Through lunch I had really enjoyed the Levantine Hill Estate Pinot Noir, and in a serious bonus, was presented with a bottle for free, simply for paying with an Amex card! Catherine had a couple of glasses of the Katherine’s Paddock Chardonnay, which is their flagship, and it is an elegant, French leaning Chardonnay. The restaurant’s polished concrete floors, half barrel looking group tables, sleek design, and views out to helicopters landing for lunch, is quite stunning.

I can imagine others raving about their experience, which is why I might still return even if I can’t recommend this restaurant on my one experience. What I think might have tripped up the restaurant is the change to a Middle Eastern slant, and the format of the menu. I honestly do not think it fits at the moment. The comforting, sharing nature of this cuisine, cannot work with rushed dining, and the prices are extravagant for what you get. It is the first time in a very long time that I felt ripped off, and that was before the 15% on weekends and public holidays.

Levantine Hill Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato

Society – Melbourne, City – Sunday 7 November 2021 – Lunch

Society – Melbourne, City – Sunday 7 November 2021 – Lunch

A bold venture; drama on the floor, and in the kitchen; the lashing of a pandemic. There have been some big storms in Melbourne recently, but the perfect storm feels like Society. Imagine spending literally millions on the bones of a three star restaurant, and no longer having the star chef, or star maitre’d?

There is a postscript here about what fine dining means (and more specifically how sommeliers should interact with their guests), but I don’t want to take anything away from a tremendous lunch. The imagination behind Society, and the ability to pull it off, during a pandemic, is mind boggling. You feel like it is a big day out.

We dressed for the occasion, incredibly excited for our 2pm lunch sitting. At a new precinct, 80 Collins, Society sits as the flagship, a beautiful brooding dining room, with three grand, but modern, chandeliers taking centre stage, stage right, and stage left, with lengthy shadow curtains creating the backdrop. There is grandeur and refinement.

I do not know if the menu has changed since the sudden departure of Martin Benn, who back in July (before three pandemic driven cancellations) was the reason for our booking, having loved our time at Sepia in Sydney. Either way, it reminds me of Gimlet, which is just down the road, with a broad sheet of great dishes, allowing you to choose your own adventure. We had our usual negotiation, but I was pleased to find Catherine was also interested in the entree “Society Seafood”, especially given the lobster ravioli had run out (which gladly we were told before we set our hearts on it).

It’s not dainty, but for a big eater, I’m glad it is not called a “platter”. For Catherine and I the portions on this plate are perfect. Starting with the delicate crab tart, mixed with yuba (dried tofu skin), and some spice, which had me reminiscing about curried egg sandwiches, each bite was memorable. Next the soft scallops, on the most divine cornbread like vessel, topped with caviar, were rich and delicate, as only scallops can be. The smoked trout took me back to one of my favourite dishes at Farmer’s Daughters only months ago, and the scarlet prawn with tiny cubes of ginger, was an equally delicious finish to the plate.

After such an extraordinary seafood extravaganza we needed some equally incredible mains, and we got what we asked for! First we need to mention the 2014 Montrachet we were drinking was about as elegant (and expensive) wine as we’ve tried, perfect with the entree, and even better with Catherine’s Murray Cod. I tried some and was swept away by the intense beauty of this fish. Richer, but no less beautiful, was my duck breast with the amount of jus that you dream of, engulfing the plate, and a generous disc of black pudding with juniper and blackberry further showcasing the technique of the kitchen. The nebbiolo I tried with the duck was a match, but the chardonnay with the Cod far outshone it.

To say we were excited by dessert by this stage is an understatement. The options, all four of them, all were so difficult to make that we found ourselves talking to nearby tables about them. My choice, “Metropolis”, is stunning and to perfect script with the restaurant. Behind the dark chocolate crack of the literal facade copy of the building, you have utterly delicious cherry and biscuit, and the playfulness doesn’t get old to the last bite. Catherine was equally stunned with the delicate feel of her tart, but the strength of the technique, and more importantly, the flavour spectrum, to create something that is unique in her blueberry and white chocolate tart.

While there had been times where service was not as precise as Chris Lucas’ script from day one; the effort, and mostly the experience of the staff was there to be seen. You have to give praise to the fact that a very expensive restaurant opened for five weeks, then copped a three month lockdown, and lost a head chef that had been in the world’s 50 best restaurants with Sepia. If we didn’t know we couldn’t have told.

In particular, the help of staff at the end of our meal when we had lost a $600 voucher we’d purchased a month prior, was terrific. They could have quite easily have made us pay, but they could see we had made the purchase and honoured it.

I do have to say that it wasn’t quite the same feel as my social media had filled my imagination with though. It is certainly beautiful, and a big day out feel, but there were quite a few diners (gents especially) that didn’t get the memo and dressed like they were off to a nice lunch at Young & Jackson’s. Each to their own, and all power to those less discerning dressers, because what they got to enjoy on the plate would have made them feel amazing anyway.

Society is very close to what it was intended to be and I hope they strive to get there. We’ll be back once we save our deposit again!

Postscript: is fine dining supposed to be comfortable?

Fine dining is supposed to be the height of hospitality where exceptional food, service, and setting, come together in perfect harmony. In my personal opinion, whilst there are a lot of intimidating factors (especially the cost of exceptional dining), if you put aside expense, to many, fine dining should be about comfort. Not comfort in the sense of tracksuit pants, rustic food (though there is nothing wrong with rustic food), and sloppy manners, but comfort within the bounds of fine dining society. Do you see what I did there?

Well, I have dined in some very intimidating places and have been schooled fairly well. I love restaurants, and I am experienced, but certainly not expert. The best restaurants I’ve been to have a manner of putting you at ease to allow you to enjoy the experience, even though you know you could be walking out poor! The reason for my lengthy introduction to this topic is one interaction with the sommelier on Sunday at lunch.

I’ve put this at the bottom of the review because it shouldn’t take away from the meal itself, but it, like other negative experiences, does stand out. I feel I need a little explanation to begin. Catherine doesn’t drink a huge amount, and favours white wine, especially chardonnay. I love chardonnay, but normally need at least one glass of red to enjoy with any heavier meat dishes. Many years ago while in Biarritz we had our first (and only) premier cru Montrachet, and it still vividly lives in my memory.

Today, I wanted to recreate some of that experience, so I perused the menu and realised that there are many areas of Montrachet, and I wouldn’t know one from the other. I noticed that for up to around $250 I could get a special bottle for our 12 years of knowing each other anniversary (yes, we celebrate that!) It is the most I’ve ever spent on a bottle of wine with Catherine, except for Dom Perignon on other special occasions. I asked for the sommelier and said that we would like a bottle of premier cru Montrachet, for up to $250. I thought the request was more than reasonable.

The sommelier said they have something off-list that sounded like it would be perfect for us, and that she would go and try to find it. In the meantime Catherine said something like “I bet she comes back with something more expensive” and I said something, as I normally do because I am optimistic like “no, she heard what we asked for”. When the sommelier came back she said she found the bottle and it is a 2014, giving a great description, which we were excited about, before saying “it’s $290”. I thought I misheard so I did say “did you say two-ninety” and she replied “is that alright? I know you said $250.”

This is a situation that a tax professional of over 20 years, who has got through school and uni and post-grad, and 20 years of work, still cannot handle. I wanted to say “what the” but what came out was “sure, it sounds great”. Think of the scratchy voiced kid in the Simpsons. I think she realised we were unhappy with the underhandedness of the gesture and came back with an offer of two glasses of Margaret River blanc de blancs by Vasse Felix, but only I could properly take her up on the offer because Catherine wanted to just have a couple of glasses. Given they knew this was an anniversary I’m a bit skeptical, and it may have been on the house anyway.

The whole situation was uncomfortable because Catherine and I would not even normally look at bottles that far over $100 in the first place and we had been upsold on the most expensive bottle we’ve ever bought at a restaurant. To come back to the initial question, what the sommelier did, whether intentional or not, is not my definition of hospitality, and not the service you should expect in fine dining.

Twenty-one years ago I ate at Rockpool in Circular Quay and could barely afford the Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc, but no one in that fine establishment made me feel uncomfortable about that. That is service. Oh, and Neil Perry was dining on the table next-door (for some reason in his own restaurant) which I realised as I flew home the next day to Perth, given he featured as the new executive chef for Qantas!