Very rarely do I go out to a restaurant without knowing the first thing about it. In this case, Catherine had long ago aimed to dine here, and I went in blind but confident. If there is anyone who can be trusted to find a great meal, it is my wife.
We arrive on the non-beach side of Cockburn Road, greeted by a beautiful heritage building, along with my Mum, Sher, Sue, and Heinz, who are all well dressed for a fancy meal. I had little idea, but catching up with my family in Perth is always exciting, and they do tend to dress well!
What I now know is Coogee Common has a garden surrounding the restaurant that provides much of what is utilised by the kitchen. There is certainly a bountiful array of fresh produce, and it is beautifully appointed in the creations of the chefs.
Seated at a large circular table with a terrific vantage point on the corner windows inside, we are beginning at 11.30am and for a moment have much of the restaurant to ourselves (but not for long). There’s plenty of room for the dishes we are about to share, and there’s plenty of time to catch up before we even think to order.
The wine list has the diversity you’d expect at a fine dining establishment, along with some delicous cocktails, and mocktails. Catherine really enjoyed her Spring Fling, and my first glass of wine, a Slate Farm Fiano from Clare Valley, shows vibrancy. My other taste is of the Montague Chardonnay from closer by in Margaret River. For me this is a lesser known producer, highlighting the intelligent building of the wine list with sensible points of difference.
It was tough to narrow down the food options, but with Catherine and Heinz’s help I eventually ordered for the table. I’d start with the highlights, but it was difficult to call out one or two dishes, as the quality across the board was outstanding. Perhaps the surprises are best to mention? The most exceptional dish in my mind was the beetroot salad. Not only superbly roasted (and pickled) by the kitchen, but fresh from the garden, the red beets in particular were some of the best you could hope for.
Almost on a par was the spice roasted carrots, which for me is often a vegetable hard to top. Earlier, gluten-free crispbread and a “garden dip”, along with prawn skewers, and pastrami, for the table, was all superb. The surprise was how delicious the jalapenos and other pickled vegetables tasted on the pastrami plate.
For the larger dishes we had a couple of fillets of snapper go around the table, and besides being perfectly cooked, the skin also remained crisp. I enjoyed the accompaniments, especially the addition of pine nuts and fennel, but Catherine did mention the skoralia (potato and garlic puree) was too strong for her. Lastly, the medium-rare steak was again showing the quality of the kitchen. Not a single mouthful was left, and we had enjoyed a lot of food. There may have been a battle to finish the seaweed and leek left on the plate, which is unique.
Throughout, service had been good, although I didn’t have a seat with a view to the floorstaff, so sometimes was searching for a wine. In comparison with other restaurants during our 12 days in Perth, and Rottnest, this was definitely far above the baseline on service.
For dessert we ended up getting a few, and none of us were disappointed, including Sydney with his chocolate ice cream. In fact, we were very pleased, with Mum even trying the vegan chocolate mousse and prickly pear sorbet and loving it, which is unusual because she rarely has dessert. As I earlier mentioned, fennel is one of my favourite ingredients, so the fennel ice cream grabbed me. Served with a white chocolate draped combination of ricotta and quince, this was a fine end to a terrific meal. Catherine’s pumpkin creme brûlée also tasted as good as it looked.
Garden to table dining is not new, but being so close to the city is novel. It’s exciting to see the risk that Coogee Common has taken, re-establishing a heritage property and planting an entire garden in 2018. Now it is paying dividends with the quality of the outcome. We’d love to be back here on our next visit to Perth.
There are meals that you can vividly remember. Even though we eat out a fair amount, there are always a handful of meals each year that occupy a precious space in the memory bank, mostly for positive reasons. The space is precious because I have a terrible memory for certain things, names and faces come to mind, and yet I can still recall subtle aspects of certain dishes, and the conversation with the sommelier, at some restaurants.
I mention memory, because that is exactly what I’m going on (plus some photos) for this review. Life has got in the way of my writing, and life is dominated by our little boy. I prioritise the best meals we have each year to feature, and this was not just a brilliant meal, but an all around convivial experience, shared with friends we only have an opportunity to see every few years.
Gage & Tollner is on the edge of Downtown and Brooklyn Heights, and has a fascinating history in the area, with a Victorian era dining room that is simply beautiful. There is a richness of atmosphere as we arrive, with the restaurant already quite full, and the bar at capacity. We are led to our wooden booth to settle in to a meal that would last over four very enjoyable hours.
Enter Caroline and Wyatt who have lived in the area for a couple of decades. They’ve organised dinner tonight, knowing the penchant we have for great restaurants, and have that sense of pride that comes with having an excellent restaurant in your neighbourhood. With a massive menu we are lucky to be guided by their earlier experiences, and there certainly is a diversity in the selections.
Our waitperson takes the extensive order of a selection of oysters, rib eye steak, prawn cocktail, devils on horseback, crispy mushrooms, grilled tuna, brussel sprouts, hashbrown, mushroom risotto, fried chicken, tatter tots, house rolls, Caesar salad, creamed spinach, and a Barolo to top it off! Cocktails to start too, of course.
Described as an oyster and steak house, but certainly much more, you expect the oysters to be high quality. The diversity in the selection is excellent, and I’ve never had such distinctive but seriously brilliant oysters before. Often in an Australian context I would be having several from the same place, but here they have not given up anything for the wider variety, with four different oysters to try. It’s a hell of a start.
Having enjoyed the prawns, devils, and other early courses, some glorious bread shared the spotlight in the form of the famous Parker House Rolls. After quite a break (helpful from a digestive perspective but perhaps a little protracted), we were on to the main events.
Starting with the rib eye, the steak and oyster game is definitely in the big league. The garlic rub is both effective and adds to the presentation. It’s perfectly cooked as you’d expect, and the potato hash is the perfect partner. The tuna is a surprise, the fish steak fillet paired with a delicious pepper and corn salad.
It is time to use the dessert compartment that we try to keep free for these types of feasts. Knowing the serving sizes have been generous this evening, we elect to all share the bomb Alaska which is growing in its fame here. Sure enough it is sensational, and the best one I’ve ever eaten, including a few goes at Stokehouse’s (Melbourne) which is a superb contender.
As it approaches midnight, we have had a wonderful meal and catch up with friends who we only see sparingly. It’s hard to imagine a better venue for such a reunion. It’s also hard to imagine Gage & Tollner not once again being known as an institution of Brooklyn dining.
The plaudits have come from seemingly everywhere for a relatively new destination restaurant, with attached accommodation, a leisurely hour or so drive from Melbourne. As with many acclaimed venues, the reasons are somewhat intangible. Sure there must be magnificent food (and wine), service, atmosphere, and environment, but there is often something else that adds the bow needed to be truly great.
Here at Tedesca Osteria, Graceburn House, and our accommodation for the evening, Glasshouse, there is a quality that I need to spend time articulating. Saying there is a friendliness that only the country can provide is too simple. Saying Bridgitte Hafner’s cooking is stunning is true, but her food has been exceptional far earlier in her career than this latest venture, including at a pop-up which gave some indication of her future intentions back in 2015 at Avani Winery. The feeling in the dining room is not uncommon in country dining settings either. Certainly, the majority (if not everyone) in this room is here to have a wonderful long lunch in very capable hands.
It is fair to say there is no fussing in this entire dining room, and zero stuffiness, which naturally puts you at ease. It does mean to not expect incredibly attentive service, but you are not looking around for long, and requests are never met with any resistance. As an example, a few months ago when booking we passed on Catherine’s gluten intolerance. While the staff didn’t openly say they had it noted down, when Catherine mentioned it, they also didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. It was remembered throughout the service, including serving the seafood minus pasta because it sounded so great as a dish and she told our waitperson she didn’t want to miss out.
There is an extensive cellar and the wine knowledge of the waitstaff is impressive. Towards the end as I looked to pair a red with the suckling lamb course, although it was a little heavier on tannins, the fact I was interested in the Dolcetto d’Alba was encouraged by our waitperson. I liked this style where you are assisted to make a decision without feeling obliged to follow one person’s opinion, and actually guided to go with your gut. There was zero upselling.
As you are introduced to the restaurant there is a playful statement that acts partly as a warning, “lunch will last around three and a half hours”. The staff knowing we are staying the night surely helped, but no doubt you cannot finish lunch in less than two and a half hours and we went for four! So playful yes, but true, definitely. Even with our free flowing conversation we did sometimes pause and say “I wonder when the next course is” and it normally arrived momentarily, as if the staff were listening out (but I trust they were not). The utterly delicious bite of a “zeppola”, with the most incredibly pronounced anchovy encapsulated in the Italian deep fried pastry, is not followed immediately with the snacks course, so we enjoy sipping on our Diebolt-Vallois Blanc de Blancs Prestige NV. The champagne is impressive, and the first time we have tried this House.
After a leisurely wait, the snacks come out in all their glory. The Cypriot pita with pumpkin and cinnamon is my favourite for its depth of flavour, and delicate exterior, but everything is delicious with the focaccia really accentuating the various dips and sauces. While the carrots and artichokes straight out of the extensive restaurant garden are delightful, the grilled octopus wows with its perfect texture that is a pleasure to eat.
This is the kind of restaurant that you cannot help walk around and look at the art, and take a deep breath outside of the fresh Red Hill air. On our way outside earlier we caught more than a glimpse of the pasta (sorpresine) which look like tortellini but without any filling. This is served as our next course with king prawns and mussels in an elegant and flavoursome crustacean and romesco broth. What a revelation this dish is to me. Having grown up with loaded “spaghetti marinara” from South Terrace in Fremantle which had the elegance of a sledgehammer, this pasta and seafood from Tedesca is easily the best, and perfectly restrained version I have ever eaten. I openly told the waitstaff that I was thinking of licking the bowl but showed the same restraint the kitchen must to not overdo this dish.
As if knowing the follow up is as important as the star dish (in my opinion), the Bowen coral trout comes out looking like a starlet too. Oh my this is about as good as a little fillet of fish gets. The charred spring onion sauce and pickled shiitakes are terrific too, but nothing takes away the limelight from the trout. We are nearing the end of our Moorooduc Estate Robinson Chardonnay, which has turned out to be a nice selection from a nearby vineyard. It is a premium offering by Moorooduc which is a winery I’ve now had two outstanding bottles from in as many weeks (the other a Pinot Noir at Aru).
I’m now on to the Dolcetto d’Alba (E. Pira by Chaira Boschis) and while the waitperson was right that it is a touch tannic for the suckling lamb, I’m glad I tried it. The lamb is another excellent dish, but I cannot help but think the serving size is to accommodate far bigger eaters than Catherine and I. You don’t get tasty lamb with chickpeas and chorizo often, so we managed to finish every last mouthful in any case. The side salad is also completely finished, suggesting it is far better than average, with the orange really lifting it.
With Catherine’s fresh mint tea, and my coffee ordered, dessert arrived and whilst more petite than our final savoury course, the torte with a filling of rhubarb, strawberries, and fig leaf ice cream, was a tremendous finish to an utterly superb meal. We had nowhere to be except Glasshouse next door to relax for the evening (and enjoy our charcuterie platter we ordered too; post bath!) A long, leisurely, luxurious lunch left us with lasting memories, plans to come back with a group (perhaps in the private room for twelve), and a rather full belly. Monday has never been so good.
Our third time in the hallowed dining room of Attica feels more comfortable. We know certain aspects will take care of themselves. The heights of attentive service are assured, and we have already long since paid for the food, which is required upon booking.
Whilst comfortable, there is certainly no feeling of “been there; done that” whatsoever. Part of the script is to continue to evolve and change, and the native Australian ingredients are probably no more prevalent in everyday dining than they were the last time we dined here in 2016. There is always intrigue in the dishes to come.
As I write, I realise that already more than three weeks has passed since our experience, and yet much of it is more vivid than normal dining, because it is so unique. Four hours passes effortlessly, with the only confrontation the occasional ingredient which especially puts Catherine on the back foot.
An example is the parfait, which in this case lives up to its French meaning. You don’t need to look far to find someone who is a bit hesitant to eat liver. So what’s the consensus on Emu liver? Utterly exceptional and my favourite dish of the evening!
The wine is delightful throughout the evening, but the kitchen remains easily the star of the show, and there is some theatre here. Later in the evening, the now usual foray into the back courtyard reveals a camp setting this time around, with the most delicious Basque cheesecake our first dessert. Cooked over the fire, it is still semi-molten, and lives in my memory so vividly I can almost taste it.
Crocodile ribs appeal in a manner hard to imagine. The look, texture, and taste, with the barbeque used to compelling effect, is just really cool. It’s a dish served early on, but I’m not pacing myself tonight, and every piece of flesh is valuable. The wattle dahl is just the same. I’m not leaving a trace.
The final savoury course is another winner, but it is difficult to pick my favourites after the parfait. Here we have a skewer of delicately treated kangaroo, served with frites, béarnaise (Aussie style with local thyme), and a rich pepper sauce too. There’s a spray bottle of vinegar for the frites for obvious reasons. It is so very good. My wish is that in some later stage of life we go to the local pub for kangaroo almost this good, instead of cow.
From interesting, difficult to ordinarily obtain Rose Champagne by Pierre Paillard, to 2013 Lethbridge ‘Allegra’ Chardonnay, to 2021 Jasper Hill Shiraz, there is exceptional wine by the glass to suit any palate, and it is possible to have glasses for less than $20 if you like, or even to try some half glasses. The sommerlier does a superb job, and assisted us several times. Showing an interest always helps.
Attica is expensive. It is a tribute to the restaurant that we’ve been three times and couldn’t imagine not continuing to go back. It is not comfort food, and does not remind us of travel and holidays. It does however make me somehow feel more connected with Australia. How beautiful that a New Zealander writes a menu, and his team execute it impeccably, and it takes you to a place you already live in.
We like to be organised and we are not huge risk takers when it comes to choosing a venue. As we walk through the plush surroundings of the newly renovated Continental in Sorrento we feel like astronauts in outer space. It almost is as if we are walking in moon boots.
To make matters more surreal, the first person we see at the pass is Scott Pickett. I’ve never met him, but having been to so many of his restaurants I can’t help but say “Scott” like an old friend and extend my hand. We explain that we really enjoy his menus, especially at Matilda, and that we were on the wait list tonight and got the call up only a few hours prior.
We were going to come to Audrey’s anyway, and try for the bar, but we really didn’t think we’d get in so our mindset was more fancy pub menu downstairs rather than a $150 per head tasting menu. Seated in a luxurious restaurant, Catherine on a gorgeous banquette, we are looking around like we had not seen a fine diner before.
We settle as we sip on our glasses of Tattinger Champagne and familiarise ourselves with the tasting menu to come. Snacks arrive in the form of bbq abalone, Coopers Island oysters with finger lime, and mussel escabeche. The abalone stands out for its boldness, avoiding its inherently chewy nature, showing real adventure by the kitchen.
As part of the snacks the baguette is also outstanding alongside three butter options. Next comes along the spanner crab crumpet. I have come to realise that an extremely large number of fine diners are serving spanner crab, and to be completely open, I will order it almost every time. The subtlety of the crab needs to be honoured, and in this case, while the crumpet is delicious, it is also delicate enough to not overpower. The eel reminds Catherine of our meals at Lake House. We are starting to relax on this adventure.
We are looking forward to a bit of a seafood extravaganza to come. For good measure we have thrown in the optional Great Ocean Road duck option later as a half serve each to try. The first of three seafood courses is delightful Yellowfin tuna under a sheet of glutinous shiso, with white radishes in the mix for both its flavour and texture.
By this stage we are enjoying a glass of Marc Rougeot-Dupin Bourgogne Chardonnay from Burgundy. Mornington Peninsula squid comes looking like finely handled fresh pasta. Alongside is the most deeply flavoured shiitake XO ragu, that is singularly incredible, but somehow enhanced with the squid. The combination shouts signature of the house for years to come, and perhaps is one to specifically ask for on future booking requests? Last of the seafood trio is King George whiting. Perfectly cooked, elegantly presented, this marriage of fish and butter sauce is long lasting and spectacular.
As we move to the duck I make sure I order the Eldridge Estate Pinot Noir quick smart. While there are mainly positives on the service, this is a restaurant in its infancy, with a lot of less experienced floor staff (though well trained and eager), and our first request for our second wine did go forgotten for our entire Yellowfin tuna course. Yes we are in Sorrento, but the tasting menu is expensive, so some minor critiques are not unreasonable. As the floor gets more used to the menu, and the expectations of guests, I expect their training and eagerness to translate to smoother service.
There is no critique regarding the duck from across the ditch mind you. The half serve is perfect for us with dessert and petit fours to come. Bathed in a good helping of flavoursome jus, and paired with cubes of golden plum, there is only contentment.
Lately I’ve found that restaurants are on script with dessert. The days of overly savoury offerings have subsided and dessert is once again a celebration of sweetness. Audrey’s vacherin of rhubard, apple and ginger, fits the modern script. It’s pretty, delicate, sweet, and nicely executed. Though petit fours in the form of jellies and truffles are definitely an indulgent treat in themselves, this dessert makes for a great ending to the main event.
There’s a feeling of excitement to have an opportunity to dine at Audrey’s at the last minute. There’s also a feeling of appreciation that what appears to be a powerhouse entertainment venue at the new Continental, also appears to have a marque dining venue that rivals anything on offer in the city. Maybe Society isn’t the biggest opening of the past 12 months afterall?
Excited. Super excited. For an excitable person this is the most excited I’ve been about dining in some time. Despite the driving rain as we decide to skip our State Library glimpse, waiting 15 minutes for Hubert to open its doors this morning is no issue whatsoever.
By the time the doors open our umbrellas are closed, and we have caught a little glimpse of Circular Quay instead (it is the only classic Sydney glimpse we see today). Downstairs we descend, momentarily held up by the mid-level display of thousands of spirit miniatures, before entering the dining room slash jazz room. It is lit up with long candles on each table and just looks perfectly inviting as no empty room has ever looked.
Perhaps I made a mistake by booking on the bar, with no direct view of the jazz performance, but there are many reasons why it simply didn’t matter. The primary reason is the food which is the most stunning spectrum of traditional French bistro classics I’ve encountered in Australia. Then there is aspects of the service, not entirely perfect, but entirely Sydney, and the maître d’ who is as close to perfect as any restaurant manager could be.
Yes, I’m possibly embellishing, but it has been several days since we were dining here, and I’m still marveling at the experience. We wait a little for Catherine’s Tom Collins, and my (unbeknownst) cheap and delicious gin martini with a twist. Suddenly we are enjoying spanner crab with brioche toast, beautifully presented, alongside half a dozen Merimbula oysters. It is an appealing start.
We move into some Dauvisssat Chablis for Catherine, and some Clusel-Roch Gamay for me. Murray Cod a la Hubert is lashed with brown butter, capers, and lemon; and roasted Wollemi duck is layered on a plate ensconced in a balanced orange sauce that is jazz to my ears. Are we clapping for the performance, or the mains, or both? Even the frites, as you might expect at an exceptional bistro, are addictive. The endive mesclun salad eases the guilt.
Not being big eaters we don’t need dessert, but dessert has never been necessity. Watching Catherine say half way through “that is enough” of the crème caramel, only to continue going back for more is akin to my addictive personality, which includes the horses I’ll be backing a little later at Randwick. For me there is no hesitation in demolishing the passionfruit soufflé with cultured cream. When a soufflé appears on a menu the chances of it getting out alive are extremely remote. Both desserts are first class and it is consistent with the rest of this deliciously indulgent offering by Hubert.
We have four group one races in front of us, and some wine at 10 William Street, but I could easily end this day trip right here. One day I’m going to come here for lunch and stay for dinner. Then I’m going to try to hide upstairs near the many cases of wine and do it all over again the next day.
Restaurant Hubert – https://www.swillhouse.com/venues/restaurant-hubert 15 Bligh Street, Sydney Lunch Wed-Sat from 12pm; Dinner Mon-Sat 5pm to late Phone +61292320881 Email reservations@restauranthubert.com
Put aside the logistical challenges with dining an hour from home, and from the time you come up the drive, there is nothing quite like lunch at a winery. The open spaces filled with leafy vines, the sense of calm, and the same air about the floorstaff. The feeling of privilege in being away from home.
Oakridge Estate epitomises this feeling. The expansive rectangular building with floor to ceiling windows running the length of the dining room, the space between the tables, and the restraint to focus on the view, are important elements in a superb dining experience. The food is exemplary, and the winery recently received Halliday’s Chardonnay of the year, so wine is covered with aplomb. Today, those elements share the limelight with service.
Accompanied by our little boy for an 11.45am lunch, we had a waitperson who was simply a star. Her demeanour, especially with Sydney, made our meal better in a way that is difficult to describe unless you have felt that pressure before. Dining with a toddler is neither an art or a science. It basically doesn’t work and there is no simple equation that offers a solution. Our waitperson navigated this imperfect situation, and went some ways to solving it.
The other element of service that I appreciated is the absence of any stuffiness, but the awareness of fine dining expectations, and when those expectations should be flexible. One aspect of good service that is often overlooked is the rule to not serve a course without all diners being at the table. Awareness by the diners can help, but I have often seen people get up at an inopportune time and the waitperson have to make a 180 degree turn back to the warmth of the pass. In our situation, Sydney needed to go to the toilet when entrees were close to being served. Another waitperson got to the table and realised, but assessing the situation decided to check with me before putting down the dishes. I made sure they were comfortable to break the rule on this occasion.
Fortunately the food and wine was equal to the standard of service. We began the lunch menu with a relaxed share course of salumi, pickles, and charred asparagus, with a healthy serving of sourdough, which set our appetite on its way. My quail and smoked bacon cannelloni then put an accent on presentation, with an interesting contrast of radicchio and nasturium to the softness of the cannelloni, and its subtle filling, that grew on me to my last bite. Catherine’s gluten free option of Jerusalem artichokes with a nut puree, and smoked nuts, was on the other hand huge on flavour, and did have me a little jealous, despite the beauty of my dish.
For mains I chose the kangaroo loin, topped with a thin slither of kohlrabi, drizzled in a sauce, and accompanied by saltbush and cherries. It was perfectly cooked, and technically very well executed, but didn’t have quite the depth of flavour I’ve enjoyed in some kangaroo dishes. Again, Catherine’s rainbow trout stole the show, with another intense flavour offering consisting of a miso and smoked trout soy, with onion weed and sesame. Perfectly cooked trout has been on the menu several times when we have dined out lately and it has been, on each occasion, a big winner.
Catherine had the lead but I paired it back somewhat with dessert. My meyer lemon tart with burnt fennel, whey and honey, was pure delight. Perfect technique, and just the right amount of sweetness, were evident in this delicious dessert. The brie icecream, beautifully presented on a disc of chopped strawberries, with pinot vincotto and lemon thyme, was a terrific dessert too though.
Knowing (having asked) that we could take home the residual of a bottle of wine here, we chose to invest in the 2018 864 Block Chardonnay (that won the Halliday award) and we were pleased we did through lunch, and even more as we shared a final glass back home. It has that wonderful balance of elegance and intensity, that I find can be a feature of great chardonnay. I also was recommended a glass of the Syrah for my kangaroo, which was perfectly matched, and also a tremendous soft expression of shiraz.
Having thought back to this lunch and the contrast with Levantine Hill, I’ve realised that service today, post our lockdowns and loss of great international staff, is even more key now. The competitive advantage of talent on the floor is far more pronounced. In Melbourne and surrounds it used to be taken for granted. Now you need to be weary. Oakridge delivered on all fronts and I can’t wait to visit again.
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!
At the age of 43 it is both exciting and terrifying to think I have hopefully at least this much longer to live. Somehow destiny has led to my work being at its busiest at the same time as my birthday each year. Coupled with long nights in a regional role, reporting to global leaders, by the time it comes around I feel twice my age. Instead of “queue the violins” I take solace that it is also a time of excessive celebration.
Tonight, Catherine has us booked into Farmer’s Daughters, where we have been trying to go for months, surviving two lockdowns in between. The only thing I want consistent tonight to the last time we indulged in the city is the pre-drinks at Bouvardia, and indeed this fine cocktail bar living up to the last time we were there. It is absolutely superb. Our fingers are crossed that this dinner that follows is superb too.
While it did take five minutes for us to be seated for our 9pm booking, we did have one of the great tables in the room on the restaurant level. You get a feeling about a place fairly quickly, in this case we were excited, with great initial interactions with the staff.
As it turns out, those initial interactions chartered a course for the rest of the evening, and it showed that service can still be terrific in Melbourne. Despite having wanted to visit Farmer’s Daughters for some time, I actually don’t know a great deal about the restaurant. What was quite obvious, looking at the wine list is that this is a restaurant that celebrates local.
Naturally this extends to the food. Farmer’s Daughters on the restaurant level has a tasting menu consisting of five courses. Whilst you get the menu at the end, the kitchen takes you on a journey of their choosing, subject to dietaries. At the moment, that journey is centred on Gippsland. Our starters, skewers of O’Connor beef, locally grown broccoli, romanesco and cauliflower, and beautifully untouched Lakes Entrance kingfish, were all tremendous and diverse examples of the wealth of local produce in this bountiful region of Victoria.
As Catherine enjoys her Frankland Estate Riesling (Great Southern), and I, my Purple Hen Fume Blanc (Phillip Island), we are served with a dish I’ve since heard is a consistent favourite, and for good reason. The baked Baw Baw Alpine trout, sitting in a shallow pool of mountain pepper cream, with trout caviar, is superb from the first taste to the last. The subtle balance of the flavours, and the soft textures, broken by bursts of caviar, is an outstanding dish. We saw it on the pass as we were guided to our table, and really couldn’t wait to try what we saw, as it is also visually appealing.
Showcasing the fresh produce of Gippsland, sugarloaf cabbage is served bathed in clam butter, with Snowy River Station seagrass. It is a thoughtful vegetable based course. By now we’ve moved on to two new white wines, with mine an Arneis by Adelina (Clare Valley) and Catherine the Cannibal Creek Chardonnay. The latter is another wine from Gippsland, and while not exclusively choosing local wines, the sommelier / wine service has done a terrific job of mixing interesting producers and varieties, and doing their best to also showcase the region where the food is centred.
Our next course of garfish from “Campfire Corner Inlet” is a bit chewy and not to everyone’s taste. Crusted in a Japanese spice mixture called shichimi, which adds great flavour, and served with Wattle Bank oyster mushrooms, replacing the fish with many others would make for a more pleasurable dish.
On the back of a lowlight, but not bad dish, the venison course again hit the high notes. From Terramirra Park, this venison almost melts in the mouth. Beetroot, smoked parsnip, and black garlic accompany to lift the dish even further, but honestly the venison could be served by itself and it would still be terrific. By this stage I’m drinking the Xavier Goodridge ‘Pa Pa’ Pinot Noir, another find from the riches of Gippsland, and life is very good indeed. The attentive wine service also pours me a half glass of the Sagratino/Mourvèdre that I was keen to try by Aphelion.
Service all round had been excellent, and there were few times we were looking around for want of anything. While our table made a big difference to our comfort, I felt that everywhere in the restaurant seemed equally well served. Add to the quality food and service, the whole setting from the expansive glass frontage to Exhibition Street, to the sleek beige interiors, is signalling a new sophistication coming to Melbourne dining.
Dessert is served and looks like a cross between a decadent creme biscuit and a macaron. This take on a pavlova with carob, macadamia and mandarin, has that post-crack give I like in a merengue, and enough sweetness to keep us happy. It’s clever, local, Australian themed, and a nice way to end a high quality and focussed offering from the kitchen.
Good looking spaces are sometimes easier to create from scratch than sketch out of the past. Farmer’s Daughters is a great demonstration of a purpose built restaurant with a local focus that doesn’t remove ingenuity but enhances the experience.
The annual Derby recovery lunch has always been an event in itself. Usually restricted to the boys from the previous day, those still willing (and able) after a late night and a marathon session, dust themselves off, and gather for a lunch that only has a prerequisite to be rather expensive. As if for no other reason, it is almost essential to have at least broken even the day before at Flemington.
Pumpkin Flowers
This year it was “Chef” who chose the restaurant. There is a rotation policy where I personally ensure I either pick, or have an insider hand in picking the venue, with deft personal messages of applause with good choices, and blatant ribbing for choices that are ill-informed! Chef is a quiet achiever in these Choosy Stakes. You are probably thinking this guy knows his restaurants and works in an up market Bib Gourmand, but he actually is not into that type of thing and specialises in basic cafe fare. So, choosing Ides, a restaurant with Peter Gunn at the helm, known for his experience at places like Attica, is not as great a fit as it sounds.
Fried chicken, cos lettuce, bacon broth, spiced cashew nuts
You don’t need to be a Rhode Scholar to comfortably say that every year we get older. The warm up for elderly men is difficult, but precisely half way through our first beverage of choice (today mainly gin and tonics, and pink vermouth spritzers) we start to acclimatise. On the menu (that we never actually saw) are several snacks to begin, an avocado dish, a broth, a snapper dish, a beef cheek dish, and two desserts with one on the fruitier side and the other chocolate.
Scarlett Prawn
By the time the snacks are being presented we are on to the Hochkirch riesling from Henty in the west of Victoria. It’s a good choice because versatility with the assortment of tastes is the key. There’s a good spicy punch to the cos lettuce, the scallop is gorgeous, the fried chicken is glorious, and the sourdough with peanut butter is a dish of its own. The only miss for me is the prawn which having tried several uncooked prawns I’ve decided they are just better cooked. I can respect the freshness of the produce though.
Burnt Avocado
Sitting at a fine dining restaurant with a real sense of modern Australian cuisine, it should not be a surprise to find a quarter avocado presented as the first course, but it is. How did we start to associate avocado with breakfast? Just as the French will crack an egg on anything from a Lyonnaise salad to beef tartare, why can’t we have an avocado as one of our dishes? If fine dining and nouveau cuisine are supposed to present the utmost flavour profiles and combinations possible, this avocado is close to perfection. It is firm but has the subtle, yet consistent, flavour of an avocado at its peak, and it is enhanced by trout roe that doesn’t overpower, and a spice that also is in beautiful balance. I am intrigued if I came back tomorrow whether it would taste the same, and be just as wonderful.
Snapper
On to a Trutta marsanne from Harcourt North in the Central Victorian region, and the pumpkin flowers in ox tail broth, with chewily addictive ox tail meat presented separately. We all leave our bowls dry so the broth is good, but it is the meat that is king. This is followed by my favourite dish of the day. Snapper is topped with a broccoli crumb, and a snapper butter is poured at the table that surrounds the white fish. That white fish is skilfully cooked, just enough, to demonstrate its best, but it is the butter that steals the show, and the salty crumb that almost makes you feel like you are having the best fried fish shop meal of your life (without the old frying oil!)
Beef Cheek
A delicious shriraz viognier from Yarra Yarra is chosen by Guy and we are on to the beef cheek which comes out looking more like fillet steak. What the chefs have done is freeze dry the slowly cooked cheek to form a disk, rather than present in the usual rustic way. It works, but it does lose some of the magic in my humble opinion. The Congo potato is raved about, which is probably not what the chefs had in mind (when you compare to the cheek), but it is definitely a generous and enjoyable way to end the savoury courses.
Madenii Mousse
The first dessert, on the fruitier side with strawberries and macadamias, comes adorned with a translucent shard separating those elements. By this stage, after what seems like over twenty-four hours of drinking, I cannot be sure of exactly what I was eating, but it was very good. Somewhat simpler looking, but anything but, is “The Black Box” of chocolate and peanut. Break it open and you have plenty of sweet goodness inside. As a final tip of the Akubra to our cuisine we are presented with a peach cheek drizzled with honey.
The Black Box
As we all reflected on this experience later in the day, and in the days to come, it became apparent that everyone enjoyed the experience as a whole, but there wasn’t the same high you can get with some of the other top restaurants in Australia. It might be the familiarity of some of the dishes, even though they are much more sophisticated than the norm, but more likely it was the seriously expensive tasting menu of $180 a person. Normally I wouldn’t even mention it, but this is in the top echelon of tasting menu prices so it is fair game.
Things tend to go a bit sideways!
The focus on Australian produce includes the spirits on offer, which does narrow the options when it comes to things like Campari and Aperol (which were innocently asked for more than once as my group got to the restaurant for an aperitif). What I did find is professional and confident floorstaff who could quickly provide another option, who spoke well through the various courses and what we were eating, and who answered questions without any flicker of snobbery. It does feel as if the whole outfit are sharing the vision of the chefs, and are confident in the product across the board. And that means a lot in any organisation.
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