Caught up in the demands of fast-paced urban life, many of us wish to embrace the tenets of ‘slow living’ – a lifestyle choice that encourages taking a moment to smell the roses and reconnect with the tranquil beauty of nature. Though one doesn’t necessarily need to put on a nice shirt and make the two-hour drive to Brae to join the resistance cohort, it’s hard to think of a more seductive destination to unplug and reunite with the potency of the present.
Here, culinary excellence is coupled with the serenity of the Birregurra countryside in the form of a leisurely five-hour degustation lunch from powerhouse chef Dan Hunter.
If you’ve got the capacity (or will) to splurge, an overnight stay at one of Brae’s six peaceful suites will allow you to bask in the magic a little longer – but my friend and I feel lucky enough to be booked in for a meal. On the drive up, the atmosphere in her car is charged with breathless chatter and anticipation; after all, Brae is arguably Victoria’s most decorated regional establishment. It might be oxymoronic, but we’re chomping at the bit to slow down and take in every second of the experience.
Brae is a fine diner, to be sure, but there’s a relaxed ambience to the restaurant that feels immediately soft and welcoming; a fireplace crackles softly in the foyer where low lounges beckon a pre- or post- luncheon drink, and our host is charming and naturally convivial. I say “naturally” because there’s more to the staff here than just polite...
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Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Searching for Ishizuka feels a bit like geocaching. On a stroll up Bourke Street, you take a sharp right into a nondescript apartment building and then punch a code into a lift before being buzzed in. Down you plummet into a subterranean foyer and even then, the restaurant is still concealed behind an ethereal white dome that’s like a giant Japanese lantern. It’s otherworldly down here. But once your host checks your reservation and lets you in, you’re met with a familiar sight: a long wooden counter behind which chefs busily prepare food and serve just 16 customers at a time. At each setting, I note beautiful bonsai structures releasing scented vapours. My senses are already being charmed, though nothing yet has met my lips.
The restaurant’s offering is a hyper-seasonal, degustation-style kaiseki menu. Sometimes referred to as ‘Japanese haute cuisine’, kaiseki is a centuries-old Japanese culinary art designed to celebrate the purity of fresh ingredients through a meticulously prepared sequence of dishes. Having trained at several of France’s Michelin-starred restaurants, executive chef Katsuji Yoshino comes highly equipped with skills in both innovative European and time-honoured Japanese techniques.
The journey begins with ‘zensai’, a flower-painted, multi-dish stack of delicate appetisers that are almost...
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Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Nestled in the leafy backstreets of Fitzroy, Carnation Canteen is an elegant cornerside 20-seater restaurant. Inside where unembellished walls reign supreme, it feels like a modern rustic French bistro. In the white rear courtyard beneath the unfiltered rays, you almost feel like you’re in the back alleys of a Greek island.
At the risk of sounding older than I am, the loopy cursive scrawl on Carnation Canteen’s weekly rotating menu isn’t easy to decipher. The food continues in this vein – ever stylish, if not always the most satiating.
In any case, there are some noteworthy moments throughout the meal. A wedge of baked ricotta, presumably cut out of the impressive ricotta cake on the display counter, is pleasantly salty, luxuriant and crumbly. Spreading it on the accompanying slice of black kalamata olive crostini further ups the savoury ante.
The small serving of al dente spears of baby asparagus infused in the flavours of an oily pistachio crumble heaped on top is moreish, though credit to its addictive salt crunch, we wish there was a bit more of it. And the charcoal-grilled prawns with chilli and garlic, while not extraordinary, have a beautiful char and saltiness reminiscent of the sea.
The saucisson (thick, dry-cured sausage) is pleasingly paired with fava, mint and the salty, sharp tang of pecorino...
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Lagotto is not a new restaurant by Melbourne standards. It was 2019 when it opened as a contemporary Italian café-slash-deli on the bottom floor of a Fitzroy North apartment complex. What followed was the hellscape we grimly remember as 2020 – year of the Black Summer bushfires and the first wave of pandemic lockdowns. A tumultuously timed opening is perhaps one reason why the venue went so unnoticed by those outside its five-kilometre radius for so long. Or perhaps, simply, the offering took a little while to find its feet. But as we come to discover one Sunday afternoon, Lagotto is now in a golden era.
It’s always been a handsome space, artfully designed by Flack Studios and boasting a rich burgundy terrazzo with marble inlays. Sunlight bounces off the restaurant’s timber and peachy pink walls, and the vintage Italian aesthetics evoke an old-timey cinematic glamour. For all its design award-winning elegance, there’s an irresistibly casual feel to the fitout. This is a place just as suitable for an afternoon wine with a gaggle of pals as it is for anniversaries and the like.
Upon arrival, we’re escorted to the bar and armed with a drinks list to get the party started. It’s awesome to see what I remember in its early days as a fairly sleepy-looking restaurant pumping now at full capacity. Staff whizz across...
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When imagining the perfect restaurant location, the base of a high-rise office building isn't exactly top of the list. Arriving at Lucia, nestled on the ground floor of the Eleven Eastern in South Melbourne – just a stone's throw from the Princess Highway – sets off a few alarm bells. It's not a question of aesthetics; the space is undeniably stunning: spacious, plush, and breezy. Yet, the unmistakable "hotel restaurant" vibe raises the concern that this might be a case of style over substance.
Luckily, Lucia proved me wrong in mere seconds. You see, the essence of Lucia is its exceptional staff and impeccable food.
Take the "two-sip" Oyster Martini ($19) – a mix of Never Never Oyster Shell Gin, Cocchi Americano, and waxflower. As it's served, the waiter conspiratorially quips, "It's been a long day; better make it three sips," while adding an extra glug of the pre-made concoction. Consider me charmed. If the oyster shell gin weren't enough to live up to the Martini's name, the accompanying Coffin Bay oyster with basil oil and finger lime certainly seals the deal.
Hospitality veterans Frank Ciorciari and Anthony Silvestre have reimagined fine dining with Lucia, bringing it back to its roots. Here, you can forget about degustations or hushed dining rooms where speaking above a whisper feels taboo. Instead, Lucia delivers all the flair and showmanship of upscale dining in an approachable and relaxed setting.
Under chef Jordan Clavaron’s direction, any fears of flash...
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Everyone has a dish that's always a must-order. One that makes your heart race and music swell whenever it appears on the menu. For me, that dish is the scotch egg. It's just so whimsical. An egg! In meat! That's crumbed!
When I saw one doing the rounds on Instagram and learnt it holds a ramen egg, I knew I had to have it, so off I went to one of Melbourne's most celebrated openings of 2024: Reed House.
Situated in the manse building that once housed the minister of the nearby Wesley Church, Reed House is a nod to architect Joseph Reed, who designed the church in the 19th century.
After an internal nip and tuck, the space is cosy, with arched church windows that allow natural sunlight to permeate the room. It's casual sophistication but with a slight twist – the trancey sounds of desert rock humming throughout.
Pairing rock and roll in a refined setting won't be for everyone, but this irreverence is the hallmark of Reed House. The food is playful, and the service is friendly and laid-back. Toeing the line between tradition and invention, Reed House feels like the epitome of next-gen hospo. The cool kids have grown up, got real jobs and now run your favourite restaurant.
The brainchild of chef Mark Hannell and front-of-house extraordinaire Rebecca Baker, Reed House has curated a warm and inviting venue....
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November 2024 update: Summer is back, baby! On Saturday afternoons this November and December only, Etta is once again serving up its glorious seafood towers – alongside by-the-glass pourings of rare and premium Champagne. At $75 a head, the feast features a multi-tiered platter stacked high with the freshest local catch. Think woodfire-kissed crustaceans, aromatic sambals and lemon-squeezed raw bites. Champers costs extra, of course. This offer has dreamy luxe lunch date written all over it, so if you want a seat at the table – make a reservation now.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
October 2024 update: The below review was originally written in December 2023. Please note that beloved chef Rosheen Kaul (whom this review references) departed the restaurant in April 2024, with new head chef Lorcan Kan now steering the ship.
Etta has been hot on everyone’s lips since it entered the Brunswick East dining scene –particularly since head chef Rosheen Kaul joined the kitchen in 2020. In the culinary world, countless awards and glowing reviews often breed scepticism but a recent Tuesday evening dinner proved the praise is just as warranted as ever.
We were seated in a cosy corner nook decked out with decorative pillows, ideal for soaking up the scene (to the left, the bar and open kitchen; the right, Lygon street passersby; and to the front, a...
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
It’s easy to scrunch your nose up when you hear the name ‘Greasy Zoe’s’. It sounds like an American diner, the type of highway-side joint famed for Sloppy Joe sandwiches and sunny side-up eggs rather than sophisticated and inventive produce-driven cuisine.
But the latter is exactly what Greasy Zoe’s is, an unexpectedly thrilling dining experience curated on the outskirts of Melbourne. It’s spearheaded by the wildly creative chef Zoe Birch (ex-Courthouse Hotel and Healesville Hotel) and her intelligent hosting partner and sommelier, Lachlan Gardner.
We’re in the centre of Nillumbik Shire, as far as you can get to the edge of Melbourne before entering regional territory. Birch and Gardner stick to the hyperlocal brief by championing small Victorian producers, described on the menu as Our Family. Even the gorgeous ceramic plateware has been hand-built by local creators. Meanwhile, the menu consists only of the current season’s bounty as well as last season’s ferments, pickles and preserves, all made in-house. There’s a clear ethos of sustainability at Greasy Zoe’s; any green waste the restaurant produces is turned into compost. In addition, the only seafood served is green listed by Good Fish Project.
When we wander in on a Friday night, it feels more like a friendly elf’s cottage than an acclaimed eight-seater...
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Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Tucked away in the residential backstreets of Abbotsford is Molli, a neighbourhood bar and bistro just a stone’s throw away from stalwart café Three Bags Full. Funnily enough, the perennially popular brunch destination is an earlier venture of Nathan Toleman, owner of Molli and founder of hospitality conglomerate the Mulberry Group, the same establishment behind CBD restaurants Hazel and Dessous.
Molli is a warm and inviting space, belying its expansiveness as a 100-seater. Clad in dark timber and light-filled, with sage green walls adorned by still life oil paintings and vintage furnishings, Molli is simultaneously classy and cosy. Seating can range from tables and banquettes to a wraparound bar overlooking the open kitchen, where one can witness firsthand the flames of Molli’s prized Josper charcoal oven.
Get there between the witching hours of 5 and 6pm on weekdays to capitalise on Molli’s aperitivo hour, a delightful window in time when oysters are $4.50, select beer and wines are $10 and a curated list of cocktails are $14 each. Molli excels in reasonably priced daily specials, whether it’s their $30 pasta and vino lunch on Friday and Saturday or their $60 Sunday set meal. Adjacent sister venue Little Molli is a daytime café and deli.
Kayla Saito brings her extensive experience as bar manager at...
October 2024 update: The below review was written by Jess Ho in 2017. We have edited pricing refernces to reflect the current costs on the restaurant's menu (still very reasonable!) We've since attended on an unofficial visit in February 2024 and can attest – Japanese Teppanyaki Inn is still just as good as it always has been.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
You’ve probably walked past the inn a hundred times and never clocked the signage. Wedged between the Regent Theatre and a retail store on the Paris end of Collins Street is Melbourne’s first teppanyaki-style restaurant. Established in 1975, Japanese Teppanyaki Inn is still going strong even after Facebook, Zomato, Yelp, Instagram, Snapchat FOMO have shifted the limelight.
But who exactly is going to Japanese Teppanyaki Inn? The answer is everyone. After finding the entrance, you are greeted at the front desk by a kimono-clad host and led into a lounged waiting area for refreshments while your other guests arrive. Here, you’ll see young couples on first dates, families, corporate-dressers and groups of bros ready to chow down. It’s a dark, soft room – they’re bucking against the bright lights, neon signs, banging tunes and party vibes of today’s restaurants and they’re proud of it. It feels like a restaurant stuck in time, and thankfully, so are their prices.
House cocktails will set...
Don’t give up if you’re finding it difficult to get a table at Navi. Once you’ve scored a booking, you’re in for a first-rate culinary adventure that’s both rare and engaging – all while being joyously laidback.
Before dinner, our group of four begin with a few drinks in the adjoining cocktail bar Navi Lounge (hot tip: this intimate spot accepts a small number of walk-ins, and you can sample Navi’s genius via snacks for as low as $7 a pop). The service both here and in the restaurant is warm and serene, and after a non-alcoholic lavender and cherry ‘No-groni that’s good enough to make me shun liquor for the rest of the night, we’re led into a space that feels more like a cosy lounge room than a fancy fine diner.
But having heard extensively about Navi, we sit a little closer to the edge of our seats. We suspect a good deal of magic is coming our way – and we’re right. Take the very first snack, for instance: a perfectly formed, concrete-hued macaron. A dessert for starters? No, it’s a wildcard flavour explosion of fermented black garlic and salmon roe. The allium’s caramelised earthiness plays well with the fresh, vibrant roe in this chewy biscuit form.
The following snacks are small aesthetic parcels of ingenious flavour: the juicy leaf of a succulent plant (bower spinach) chauffeurs smoked eel, native thyme and apple gel into our mouths. A leathery curl of smoked carrot sings with the brightness of kombucha and nutty yeast. Our table is particularly in awe over a...
September 2024 update: Shock! Horror! We've just heard word that Soi 38 is moving from its beloved carpark digs! But there's no reason to panic. It's only moving just around the corner to 235 Bourke Street, in order to have better cooking appliances and larger seating capacity. Watch this space for more details as they unfold.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Having trouble finding Soi 38? Just follow your nose. While the address is equal parts intriguing and perplexing, the heady scent of Thailand – its star anise, galangal, chilli, lime and herbs – will lure you inside the multi-level poured concrete carpark down a laneway off Bourke Street.
Don’t go thinking this cheap-eat champion is big on the novelty and low on the substance. The brightly coloured haunt in the middle of the urban jungle can claim to have introduced Melbourne to authentic Bangkok-style boat noodles. Lurking in a pungent, funky soup brothwith a host of add-ons (braised pork or beef, a pork ball and crackling, bean sprouts andcoriander), the springy noodles ballast the sort of one-dish wonder that encompasses theentire food pyramid, big on flavour and even bigger on comfort.
Owners Andy Buchan and Top Kijphavee kicked off in 2015 serving just boat noodles and prawn wontons in tom yum soup. But the people have spoken, and they’ve incrementally added more menu items (all...
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Rocketing up to the highest floor of the Rialto Tower, your ears might pop and your stomach drop, but the destination is well worth the ride. At dusk, the rapidly fading sunlight in Vue de Monde bounces off the CBD’s skyscrapers, and the twinkling lights and far-off ranges are so very, very beautiful. It’s a dramatic entrance, and one that sets the tone for your meal to follow. After all, this experience feels just as much like a work of theatre as it does a restaurant.
But you might be relieved to find the stuffiness of its previous incarnations is long gone. The centrepiece kitchen’s new extensions welcome you into the hustle-bustle: there’s an intimacy with the close-knit team and their busy work that no longer feels like a secret operation. A succession of charming international staff are introduced by name, and with the restaurant’s passionate executive chef Hugh Allen at the helm, it really does feel just like one big happy family.
And so, proceedings are eased along by my host and his impressively stocked Champagne trolley. First drink in hand, a palate cleanser chilled by a moat of ice is brought forth: a bowl of earthy radish and raspberry broth, topped artfully with geranium petals, and rendered even earthier by subtle notes of fermented koji. A grounding beginning. Next is a whisper-delicate tart wearing a crown of purple borage flowers, under which mandolin-shaved curls of avocado and samphire are a velvet savoury dream. Allen’s reverence for Indigenous...
To question Gimlet’s beauty is like pondering out loud whether the sky is blue. One foot through the door into the Trader House team’s almighty fine diner and you’re swept into an era of astonishingly impressive 1920s glamour. The handsome, plush curved booths invite you to settle in and share a bottle of Champers with a friend, uniformed staff skate around the floor with ease, and warm light dances off the grand chandeliers overhead. It’s undeniably fabulous, but also cosy at the same time – less ostentatious ‘razzle-dazzle’ and more hearth-y and heartwarming somehow, even in all its magnificence.
Tonight, my friend and I are seated at the perimeter of the amphitheatre-like dining room, affording us generous views of both the sparkling hubbub of Russell Street at dusk and the swish centrepiece bar down the steps. Every dish that hovers by only serves to build that feeling of wistful anticipation, for while Gimlet is precious to look at (and sit in), our senses are set firmly on the food.
Of course, a Gimlet cocktail is the first thing you should start off with at Gimlet. And there is no better take on that juicy gin and lime invention in Melbourne than the classic one you can drink here. Refreshing and expertly balanced with moscato and a touch of Geraldton wax, it’s pure sophistication in a glass. We also knock back a Punch, a playful concoction of Jamaican rum, pomegranate wine falernum, hibiscus tea and pomegranate yoghurt. It’s a sublime start to the evening.
One...
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When you first step into the stylish airlock entrance at Stokehouse, the transportation to another world is immediate. Suspended in the liminal space, the door behind you closes and the noisy buzz of St Kilda’s busy streets fades to a calming hum. A journey begins.
Up the stairs, we head to the first floor where the magic awaits. The host is attentive and charming from the outset, offering to take our coats and guiding us to our seats before introducing the other service staff who’ll be taking care of us for the night. But while impressed, we’re not really surprised.
This is Stokehouse, after all, a bastion of traditional hospitality and serene comfort since the early 1990s. But I want to know – after all this time, does the food and drink still stack up to the restaurant’s lofty reputation? Let’s find out.
During the day, Stokehouse’s broad, floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the glistening beach, flooding the dining space with rays of sun. At night, however, it’s a moodier setting, with warm lamps and designer chandeliers elevating the interior decor – a theatre for food and sea under the moonlight.
On this chilly evening, the beach is roaring as loudly as the wind is howling, and my partner and I are feeling cosy and romantic by the window. The only word for it is cinematic. After placing our orders, we’re paid a visit by the sommelier. He’s got drink suggestions to pair with our menu choices if we’re interested – of course, we are. A dry Tasmanian brut and a bright...
From the moment you book the full seasonal tasting experience on Amaru’s website, you know you’re in for an odyssey. It’s the restaurant’s most extravagant offering, after all – with five snacks, seven courses and petit fours, plus optional drink pairings. Skipping brekky isn’t a bad idea, but that’s not to say the food at Amaru will be dense or cumbersome – the progression of light to heavier dishes is carefully designed, a thoughtful pacing that allows you to take as long as you please in comfort.
Situated on a leafy boutique strip in Armadale amidst bridal shops and delis, the 34-seat venue is surprisingly low-key inside. Behind the sheer curtains concealing it from the outside world, you’re met with a starkly understated dining room accented with natural timber, earthy textiles, brushed grey walls and a statement vase of native flowers. The tables are widely spaced apart, offering a private sanctuary for languid, leisurely dining – which you’ll certainly need to fully immerse yourself in every bite that comes your way. Despite being a fine diner, there’s a mostly relaxed feel to Amaru, only interrupted when you sense a brief rush or moment of tension in the kitchen.
Curious about the housemade and fermented drinks that feature in the non-alcoholic program, I’ve opted to go booze-free today. The waiter encourages a sly glance at the wine list, and I sneak in a glass of sprightly cider from Normandy as an aperitif. It’s with equal parts trepidation and excitement that...
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Update October 2024: This review was originally written in 2022, so please be aware that some elements may have changed since.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
It’s no easy feat to get into Minamishima. The Japanese fine diner has been around for a while, but admission to dine within its hallowed walls has remained airtight – on the first day of each month, reservations open at midday. Most people know the drill by now with seasonally changing omakases: there’s no menu and no à la carte options, which is not to say there’s no element of choice. We’re told dinner will be a seven-course meal – with the sixth and seventh course being dessert and one of the courses a selection of ten sushi that arrives between the other courses – but there are also specials you can tack on to your $265 experience. Ranging from bluefin tuna toro (the fattiest part found in the belly of the tuna) wrapped in gold leaf and oscietra caviar (a prized delicacy second only to beluga caviar in price) to the addition of shaved truffle on wagyu and jellyfish sushi with shiso herb, the specials are expansive and somewhat practically for a fine dining institution, delineated by price in our incredibly knowledgeable waitstaff’s spiel.
Starting us off is the abalone broth with winter melon and nameko mushrooms, one of the most popular fungi used for culinary purposes in...
Back in 2018, the little Ripponlea restaurant that could rose to a surprise #20 entry on the much-debated (and occasionally controversial) World’s 50 Best Restaurants list. It overtook Brae’s entry the year before at #44 and set Attica firmly in the minds of the international jetset.
Ben Shewry’s experimental and unflinchingly Australian ten-course degustation has since tumbled out of the top 50, this year not even making the cut in the top 100. So what does this all mean for one of the most loved and well-known restaurants in the country? Does it still live up to its original hype years later, in 2022?
I’m happy to say, it certainly has – and that the list’s snub in favour of another, more hyped Melbourne restaurant for me, misses the mark, because Attica is still one of the most innovative, experimental, and more importantly, delicious fine dining experiences to be had in Melbourne. But, my rapturous superlatives aside, it’s almost not enough to explain why Attica is so important to Melbourne’s dining scene – so, let me explain.
We start our Attica journey greeted by the friendly, approachable staff, one of whom explains that they’ll offer us a series of dad jokes throughout, to accompany the meal. Although the first never materialises, what does is a simple dish of 'First Nations finger foods'; including a simulated bush tomato – a hard to source native ingredient – recreated here with a cherry tomato, stuffed with raisin and coated in bush tomato powder. It’s sweet,...
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Khanh Nguyen’s departure from Sunda last July left many, myself included, wondering what would become of the once-lauded contemporary Southeast Asian-Australian restaurant. But former sous Nabil Ansari’s appointment as the new head chef (after a brief stint at Firebird) has ensured the venue remains in good hands. Sunda is not the same restaurant that opened on Punch Lane in 2018, but its next wave is a promising one.
With formal service and a slight industrial edge, the venue embodies a high-low approach to upscale dining that emerged in the late 2010s and has permeated the industry ever since. Think doors held open and menus placed on laps by staff whose welcoming air and sense of character feel more important than their uniform.
The food is similarly refined yet relaxed. Attention to detail is evident, though no dish feels too stuffy or serious. The pie tee has initial notes of creamed corn that give way to the sharp zing of salted black bean hiding beneath the surface, all encased in a delicate pastry shell. The tuna tartare donut, which tastes of deep-fried potato, is well-balanced with a generous dressing of sturgeon caviar, but perhaps could be elevated to even greater heights with a hint of acid or cream. In any case, it’s a delight.
On that note, it's the smaller dishes that look more appealing on paper, and so we round out the meal with those. Crispy tempeh is an outstanding choice at only $12 with a sweet, smoky glaze and the bright crunch of lightly pickled...
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Everyone has a dish that's always a must-order. One that makes your heart race and music swell whenever it appears on the menu. For me, that dish is the scotch egg. It's just so whimsical. An egg! In meat! That's crumbed!
When I saw one doing the rounds on Instagram and learnt it holds a ramen egg, I knew I had to have it, so off I went to one of Melbourne's most celebrated openings of 2024: Reed House.
Situated in the manse building that once housed the minister of the nearby Wesley Church, Reed House is a nod to architect Joseph Reed, who designed the church in the 19th century.
After an internal nip and tuck, the space is cosy, with arched church windows that allow natural sunlight to permeate the room. It's casual sophistication but with a slight twist – the trancey sounds of desert rock humming throughout.
Pairing rock and roll in a refined setting won't be for everyone, but this irreverence is the hallmark of Reed House. The food is playful, and the service is friendly and laid-back. Toeing the line between tradition and invention, Reed House feels like the epitome of next-gen hospo. The cool kids have grown up, got real jobs and now run your favourite restaurant.
The brainchild of chef Mark Hannell and front-of-house extraordinaire Rebecca Baker, Reed House has curated a warm and inviting venue....
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
A quick internet search on Hanna’s Kebab won’t yield a mountain of information. Not to be confused with Ashburton’s Hannah Kebabs, this small food truck operating out of a Coburg parking lot doesn’t have a website, an email address or much in the way of Google results. This mysteriousness is quite surprising, given that it’s the only kebab shop in Melbourne I know of where you might have to wait more than an hour for your order, so popular are its super-packed wraps. In 2023, infamous Sydney-based YouTuber and street food reviewer Spanian even called it one of the best kebabs he’s ever had in his life. Hanna’s does, thankfully, have an Instagram grid – here’s a good reel that gives you an idea of the vibe.
The first time I visited I was astonished at how many people – couples, big families, teens – had packed into the parking lot, either queuing up to order or waiting for their number to be called. It was around 8pm and such was the feverish excitement that conversation began to flow excitedly amongst strangers, which led to my discovery that one young lady had driven all the way from Derrimut. “Best kebabs ever,” a man in trackies promised me.
So what is it that’s so good about this kebab? Well, one thing is the bread. It’s unique, not at all like the fluffy Turkish sandwich-style doner kebabs popular in...
September 2024 update: The below review was written by Time Out editors in August 2015 and some details may have altered since then. Moroccan Soup Bar is no longer situated on Saint Georges Road in Fitzroy North, having moved to a new site on Boundary Road in North Melbourne. Visit the website for more information.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
“I’m feeling lucky.” If you’re looking for a table at the Moroccan Soup Bar on a Saturday night, keep repeating this to yourself. For a tiny venue that has no menu, no booze and no meat, competition for diner real estate is astoundingly fierce. Get there at six or be prepared to wait an hour. So what the devil is all the hoo-ha about?
Contrary to what the name suggests, this is not a bar, nor is soup the main event. But it certainly is Moroccan. The menu is verbal and has been the same for many years, earning dishes like the chickpea bake and dips a legendary status. For $23 or $28, you'll get a vegetarian spread that is one hell of a bang for your buck.
Charismatic proprietor Hana Assafari has been successfully serving her North African cuisine here for over a decade, with minimal flair and no apologies. Treated more like a guest than a customer, you are greeted, informed of the menu, and fed whatever the kitchen has prepared. Simple. This lack of pandering is an affront to some, but in...
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Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
If you love food, there’s a thrill in eating out wherever you go. But it’s always a lot more exciting when you’re not super familiar with the cuisine. It’s hardwired into our brains to seek novelty, and while living in a multicultural city like Melbourne affords many of us the privilege of exploring all corners of the globe through taste, there are inevitably pockets we overlook.
Vola Foods specialises in Cameroonian cuisine, a melting pot of flavours from the north, west and centre of Africa, with a dash of Arabic and European influence. How many other Cameroonian joints are there in Melbourne? Not many that I’ve found, if any. So my partner and I are, in a word, pumped. This is going to be a new West African food experience.
Vola sprung up in June 2021, smack-bang in the midst of one of our harshest lockdowns. Popular for takeaways, it metamorphosed over time into the buzzy yet secret gem it is today. Google Maps leads the way, but our ears also help us navigate, picking up on boppy Nigerian Afrobeats tunes floating out from the speakers in a nearby parking lot. It’s here that head chef and owner Ashley Vola’s team sling her coveted jollof rice, puff puff (fried African dough balls) and mouth-watering barbecued meats from a bright orange shipping container.
You may remember Vola from the short-lived...
Update October 2024: This review was originally written in 2017, so please be aware that some elements may have changed since.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Walking into Leonard’s is like finding the coolest house party at the ski resort, circa 1983: a place where staff kick back to rock’n’roll, drink whisky and make fun of the bleach-blonde varsity ski team crowd. The venture from Guy Bentley and Mark Catsburg, plus bar manager Jonathan Harper and chef Nick Stanton, occupies a corner bluestone just off of Chapel Street in South Yarra.
Just like a ski lodge should, Leonard’s has an air of instant comfort. The room is entirely surfaced in untreated pine, with warm lighting, plenty of open space and a roaring fire. The stained glass back bar is flanked by mounted longhorns and a mongoose valiantly fighting a cobra – their epic battle frozen in taxidermied time. Long hair, tattoos, denim and beanies are the uniform, but far from being a den of hipster judgement, this place is ultimately inviting, free from the snark that ruins some northside venues.
Big, open doorways and windows frame scenes of folks eating in the big wrap-around courtyard, dotted with fairy lights and heated well enough to keep the blast-chilled winter at bay. Back inside, the central area is made up to look like a ’70s recreation room, complete with a painting of a nude...
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Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Wherever you hail from in the world, it’s hard not to love Malaysian food. Who can deny the pleasures of a fluffy mound of roti bread, even tastier when soaked in a rich beef rendang or chicken curry? Or the steamy comforts of a good bowl of laksa on a winter’s night?
As a local, I’ve been going to Malaymas for nearly eight years now. It’s the healing gingery Hainanese chicken rice that draws me in (the version here is nice and clean-tasting), while the creamy fried egg noodles with beef tempt me on nights where I’m feeling like something a bit richer. And for dessert, I can never say no to the wobbly mango pudding with condensed milk, only available during the warmer months. Malaymas even has the tick of approval from my partner’s Singaporean-born father, a great cook and foodie well-acquainted with Malay cuisine.
Since we already know the aforementioned dishes hit the spot and that Malaymas’ nasi lemak – the official national dish – will always be a firm favourite of ours, we decide to branch out one night and try something different. We select the fried kuey teow and Hokkien mee, alongside a very traditional Malaysian dish of belacan (fermented shrimp paste) water spinach. We’re originally going to order another noodle dish, but our server is kind enough to let us know that a more contrasting one might...
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
We all know the meaning of hidden gem, an arguably overused phrase in the Melbourne culinary zeitgeist. But what’s the term for a venue that’s exposed but not widely known, existing right beneath your nose without due recognition?
Perhaps we can dub it Wasshoi. For eight years, the sumibiyaki (chargrilled meat) bar has existed right in the centre of Prahran Market, led by Ikeui Arakane (otherwise known as Kinsan) and his son. For years, it flew under our radar, the draw of bratwurst and gozleme a greater sell.
Perhaps it's because market goers are time-poor and overstimulated. The beauty of Wasshoi is not glaringly apparent at first glance, but it deserves some time set aside to truly appreciate it.
That’s what we do when we settle into a spot at the bench on a bustling Saturday afternoon. After ordering at the counter and receiving the yuzu-shaped table number, it’s a gamble whether you’ll be able to snag a seat but the casual nature of the eatery makes turnover pretty quick.
We're lucky to snag a spot right in front of the kitchen, if you can call it that. It’s primarily a charcoal grill that gets used to torch thinly sliced beef kalbi, twice-cooked beef brisket, hefty chunks of pork belly and slow-cooked chicken fillet. Yes, you can take your order away if there’s a queue to sit but watching the chefs...
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Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Bánh mì might be one of the best sandwiches ever invented. And thanks to our local Vietnamese community, we’ve got an excellent list of purveyors to choose from, especially out in certain ‘burbs southeast and west of the city.
It hasn’t always been so easy to source a mind-bendingly good one in the CBD, so when Banh Mi Stand first sprung onto the scene last year, I was careful about getting my hopes up. Yet the Flinders Lane hole-in-the-wall has garnered some serious hype that’s long outlived its initial post-debut shine.
And so when I show up with a hungry friend on our lunch break, a cloud of customers swarming the counter is no less encouraging. Save for some tiny plastic stools and milk crates on the pavement, it’s very much a grab-and-go deal.
The sign is an artsy line-drawing of a baguette, a dead giveaway – along with some flashy royal blue branding – that this bánh mì shop is a more modern operation than what you’d find in Footscray, Richmond or Springvale. But hardcore traditionalists be damned; the eats here turn out to blow our hunger-addled, carb-craving minds.
From the short list of six menu options, we’ve opted for the globally adored crispy pork roll and the Hanoi cha, a more traditional style of roll with cold cuts of pork loaf. Judging from the queue and the fact the bánh mì are freshly...
September 2024 update: Shock! Horror! We've just heard word that Soi 38 is moving from its beloved carpark digs! But there's no reason to panic. It's only moving just around the corner to 235 Bourke Street, in order to have better cooking appliances and larger seating capacity. Watch this space for more details as they unfold.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Having trouble finding Soi 38? Just follow your nose. While the address is equal parts intriguing and perplexing, the heady scent of Thailand – its star anise, galangal, chilli, lime and herbs – will lure you inside the multi-level poured concrete carpark down a laneway off Bourke Street.
Don’t go thinking this cheap-eat champion is big on the novelty and low on the substance. The brightly coloured haunt in the middle of the urban jungle can claim to have introduced Melbourne to authentic Bangkok-style boat noodles. Lurking in a pungent, funky soup brothwith a host of add-ons (braised pork or beef, a pork ball and crackling, bean sprouts andcoriander), the springy noodles ballast the sort of one-dish wonder that encompasses theentire food pyramid, big on flavour and even bigger on comfort.
Owners Andy Buchan and Top Kijphavee kicked off in 2015 serving just boat noodles and prawn wontons in tom yum soup. But the people have spoken, and they’ve incrementally added more menu items (all...
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If you live in Melbourne and have TikTok, chances are you’ve heard of Stefanino Panino. That’s how the deli-style shop first landed on my radar, via multiple drool-worthy videos showing loaded sandwich cross-sections and lines snaking out the door. It was salivation through the screen at its finest, and I knew as a dedicated sliced bread specialist that I had to find out whether this family-run business (founded by mother-son duo Diana and Stef Condello) lived up to the hype.
I visit the new-ish digs (Stefanino Panino moved from its OG location on the Brunswick East end of Lygon Street in November 2023) in Collingwood Yards with my husband on a chilly Saturday morning. We skipped brekky in favour of starting the day with a carb-loading sesh, and have arrived early to snag our sanga of choice, lest it sells out – which, on the weekend, is not unusual.
Having already studied the menu before arriving, our choices are clear: the Bologna (mortadella, stracciatella, pickled peppers and olives) and the L’Australiana (prosciutto, provolone, tomato, rocket, onion, mayo and dijon mustard). But with 12 sandwiches on offer, plus rotating specials and the option to build your own, this is a place that demands a return visit or two – after all, who doesn’t want to say they clocked Stefanino Panino’s sandwich line-up?
True to form (aka all the TikToks I’d seen), there was already a line out the door upon our arrival mid-morning. We poke our heads inside the busy venue and glimpse the...
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Sparsely decorated with bright pops of colour synonymous with the Mexican flag and jaunty Latin music playing from within its confines, new Johnston Street eatery El Columpio is bringing a slice of homestyle cooking to an oft-underappreciated quarter of Fitzroy.
Tortas and Tacos has livened up a strip traditionally associated with late-night shenanigans – think live music institution Old Bar and afrobeats club Laundry – but things remain tough for restaurants bold enough to set up shop in a stretch that can only be described as having bad ‘feng shui’. Vegan pinchos bar Follies shuttered after only a year and a half, citing the cost-of-living crisis. Doncaster Chinese vegetarian import Vegie Mum survived a far bit longer, but it too is shutting its doors at the end of this month. But not all is lost for those looking for a bite in the vicinity – not if El Columpio has anything to do with it.
Established by chef Ricardo Garcia Flores as part of a dream to introduce Melburnians to the family heirloom Mexican dishes he grew up with, El Columpio has a short but sweet menu. If you arrive before midday, you’ll be treated to a breakfast menu that comprises tamales and chilaquiles. Arrive after midday and the menu is identical, no matter if you arrive at 1pm or 8pm – expect the traditional Mexican soup pozole, a...
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Bánh mì might be one of the best sandwiches ever invented. And thanks to our local Vietnamese community, we’ve got an excellent list of purveyors to choose from, especially out in certain ‘burbs southeast and west of the city.
It hasn’t always been so easy to source a mind-bendingly good one in the CBD, so when Banh Mi Stand first sprung onto the scene last year, I was careful about getting my hopes up. Yet the Flinders Lane hole-in-the-wall has garnered some serious hype that’s long outlived its initial post-debut shine.
And so when I show up with a hungry friend on our lunch break, a cloud of customers swarming the counter is no less encouraging. Save for some tiny plastic stools and milk crates on the pavement, it’s very much a grab-and-go deal.
The sign is an artsy line-drawing of a baguette, a dead giveaway – along with some flashy royal blue branding – that this bánh mì shop is a more modern operation than what you’d find in Footscray, Richmond or Springvale. But hardcore traditionalists be damned; the eats here turn out to blow our hunger-addled, carb-craving minds.
From the short list of six menu options, we’ve opted for the globally adored crispy pork roll and the Hanoi cha, a more traditional style of roll with cold cuts of pork loaf. Judging from the queue and the fact the bánh mì are freshly...
If you live in Melbourne and have TikTok, chances are you’ve heard of Stefanino Panino. That’s how the deli-style shop first landed on my radar, via multiple drool-worthy videos showing loaded sandwich cross-sections and lines snaking out the door. It was salivation through the screen at its finest, and I knew as a dedicated sliced bread specialist that I had to find out whether this family-run business (founded by mother-son duo Diana and Stef Condello) lived up to the hype.
I visit the new-ish digs (Stefanino Panino moved from its OG location on the Brunswick East end of Lygon Street in November 2023) in Collingwood Yards with my husband on a chilly Saturday morning. We skipped brekky in favour of starting the day with a carb-loading sesh, and have arrived early to snag our sanga of choice, lest it sells out – which, on the weekend, is not unusual.
Having already studied the menu before arriving, our choices are clear: the Bologna (mortadella, stracciatella, pickled peppers and olives) and the L’Australiana (prosciutto, provolone, tomato, rocket, onion, mayo and dijon mustard). But with 12 sandwiches on offer, plus rotating specials and the option to build your own, this is a place that demands a return visit or two – after all, who doesn’t want to say they clocked Stefanino Panino’s sandwich line-up?
True to form (aka all the TikToks I’d seen), there was already a line out the door upon our arrival mid-morning. We poke our heads inside the busy venue and glimpse the...
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Piccolo Panini Bar is a place whose reputation precedes it, its strong social media presence and blocks-long queues garnering a lot of hype. Despite entering the scene at the later end of the sandwich wave, Piccolo developed a chokehold on loyalists from the inner east and those willing to travel for a good panini.
Needless to say, the bar was set high when we visited on a Friday at 8am. The venue was nearly empty save for a few takeaway coffee customers, allowing us to fully soak up the ambience (custom-branded soccer jerseys on display, cannoli at the counter, music pumping) before the lunch rush.
The board behind the deli case of marinated vegetables, salumi and cheese, listed six filling options, only one of which was vegetarian and most of which fell around $16. Each sandwich could also be customised with additional accoutrements for an extra cost of $1.5 to $6 more. But a shop’s signatures are the best judgment of their quality so we went with the cotoletta and the salami, plus coffee.
The latter came first, milk well-frothed and coffee strong but not bitter. The food was served around ten to fifteen minutes later. We denied the offer of a carry bag and regretted it once realising the sandwiches weighed what felt like a kilo each, but quickly found a sunny nearby park to dine at. There are only a few outdoor tables at Piccolo in clear line of sight of the staff and passersby, which is not ideal for those who prefer to dine with some semblance of privacy.
Both...
Mar 2024 update: The below review was written in 2017. Sandwich options may have changed since we visited so please check the website to see what's currently on offer.
When the 18th-century English aristocrat John Montagu, aka the 4th Earl of Sandwich, started the trend of eating meat tucked between bread, he could never have envisioned how far the humble sandwich would come. Now we have Hector’s Deli, a café in Richmond dedicated to sandwiches – classic combinations made with high-quality ingredients and decked out with extra flourishes. The menu offers five options (and if you're lucky, a few specials) and that’s about it. No eggs. No fancy plating. No cutlery. But considering co-owners Jason Barratt and Dom Wilton have worked at Melbourne institutions like Stokehouse and Attica, you should buckle up for a sandwich shop with some serious cachet.
The café is housed in a former milk bar on a quiet suburban street, away from the hustle and bustle of Richmond’s main strips but even so the tiny space still hums with throngs of locals. Barratt and Wilton are behind the white-tiled kitchen-cum-register dishing one sarnie after another, while warmly greeting customers, many by name. Couples with dogs wait for barista Zac Kelly’s creamy, strong flat whites made from Axil Roasters coffee beans and hungry kids are placated with flaky croissants from Rustica, also their bread supplier. It’s like the Cheers of sandwich shops.
If you’re visiting during the early shift, order the...
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Mar 2024 update: The below review was written in 2019, however we've since updated opening hours, imagery and other relevant information. Fun fact: Harry Styles was spotted at this eatery in 2023.
Cibi translates to ‘little one’ from Japanese, but the beloved Collingwood café and concept store of the same name made a big move last October. Originally opened over a decade ago by husband and wife Meg and Zenta Tanaka, Cibi has relocated (albeit next door) to a spacious, light-flooded warehouse – there’s now more room to display its beautiful products and, importantly, ample space for more diners to become devotees of its famed Japanese-style breakfasts.
The Tanakas’ philosophy is to look at life through the eyes of our younger selves. Correspondingly, the compact menu champions simplicity. Fusing Japanese ingredients and cooking methods with Western flavours and seasonal produce results in well-balanced dishes and modest serving sizes, staying true to the Japanese proverb and one of Cibi’s mantras – hara-hachi-bun-me (eating until you are 80 percent full is eating in moderation).
Despite the larger space there’s a short wait for a table on a sunny Sunday morning. The room hums with chatter as people tackle free-range eggs, roasted eggplant and butternut squash caramelised with sweet house-made miso buried under a thick blanket of oozy provolone cheese – it tastes as cosy as it looks. Salmon cured in-house with sake and kombu is served with a soft-boiled egg and pickled...
Sometimes you just need to start your morning with a stack of fluffy pancakes, a greasy cheeseburger, a side of crispy bacon and a chocolate milkshake. Because you know, balance. And when that’s all served up alongside a retro-chic, old-school diner fitout with a welcoming service you’re not left wanting much more.
Operator Diner, nestled in the dynamic Wesley Place development opposite Caretaker’s Cottage (one of our city's great bars), is bringing something different and exciting to the Melbourne café scene. The team from Operator25 takes us on a journey with this new venue, not only to the US of A, but also back in time, to the good ol’ days of jukebox-playing, pie-slinging, neon-lit diners. A considered design by architects We Are Humble, which brings brown-leather banquettes, cafeteria-style chairs, and orange and yellow '70s sunshine tones to life, manages to achieve a playful and charming atmosphere that doesn’t feel gimmicky or overdone.
On weekday mornings, the café bustles with office workers lining up for a takeaway coffee and breakfast roll or a chocolate hazelnut croissant (from AM Bakehouse in Glen Iris). By the time the weekend rolls around, crowds arrive looking for a hangover cure, and to share stacks of pancakes with Nutella sauce, cookie crumbs and vanilla ice cream.
The breakfast menu runs all day and puts diners in a pickle trying to choose between French toast with cinnamon and maple syrup or a triple-cheese grilled sandwich served alongside a...
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A Fitzroy staple since 2013, the beloved Industry Beans has officially moved into a new building just around the corner from its original location.
The new space is a light-filled warehouse that features a larger cafe, a dedicated retail store, a coffee quality and training room and a roaster.After you've ordered your coffee, you can take a peek through the large glass windows from within the cafe to catch a glimpse of the roasting process.
Those familiar with Industry Beans' other stores in Syndey, Brisbane and Melbourne should feel right at home in the new location. The venue is the brand's fourth project with Melbourne architects March Studio, who have also designed spaces like the Jackalope Pavilion.
The interior is meant to reflect the journey of the brand over the past ten years and celebrate its triumphant return to Fitzroy. Think industrial features, steel mesh, recycled timber tabletops paired with sleek white booths and a lot of plants.
The menu includes Industry Bean staples like smashed avocado on toast as well as new additions like the very Instagrammable porcini nest. Perhaps most importantly, you can also grab a cup of Industry Beans' signature coffee with options like espresso, filter or even cold-brew.
A café housed in a heritage-listed former powerhouse with exposed brick walls and enormous street-art murals around the corner. Queues out the door, an almost-alarming number of plants, riffs on avo toast and other highly ‘grammable dishes. A focus on quality coffee so meticulous that it necessitates a separate coffee menu (including a barista’s breakfast tasting board of Five Senses coffee and several pour-over and batch brew options). Things don’t get much more Melbourne than everything about Higher Ground café. However, by virtue of an experienced team, consistently top-quality food and drink, excellent service, high energy and an unmatched atmosphere, Higher Ground personifies our city in the best way possible.
The darling of the Darling Group (Kettle Black, Top Paddock, the Terrace), Higher Ground sits tall (its six connected levels form a maze of tiered spaces) and pretty on Little Bourke Street. Since opening its doors six years ago, it’s become a steady favourite of the competitive café scene, consistently raising the bar higher: literally and metaphorically.
It’s the first time in quite some time that we are excited about several options on a café menu. We debate over whether we should order the ’nduja on toast with salsa verde, pickled onions and a fried egg or the blue swimmer crab benedict, with native herbs and optional caviar. However, our choice of the stracciatella toast proves to be the best decision of the day. Two large slabs of sourdough are...
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If you’re lucky enough to work at the top end of the city, Babajan’s second outpost can be your go-to lunch destination. It's tucked away in a nondescript row of shops with the faintly perceptible gold letters engraved on the window the only indication that it’s Babajan, but the line out the door will nonetheless alert you to the plethora of pastries, sandwiches and desserts that await within.
Like its original shop in Carlton North – widely regarded as one of the more interesting and inventive brunch places in the inner north – which transitioned permanently into a takeaway-only venue during successive lockdowns, there is no space for dining in at Babajan’s Little Collins branch. There are a select few chairs outside but on a nice day, you’d be better off embarking on the one-minute walk towards the triangle of greenery between Spring Street and Macarthur Street and enjoying your food and Proud Mary coffee while soaking up some rays.
Uniformly organised floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with Babajan’s retail products line the tiny store. Nothing in the glass cabinets except desserts is labelled, but the person behind the counter on our visit is only too happy to reel off the meticulously assembled daily rotating sandwiches, boreks and salads – with spices such as sumac, cardamom and baharat jumping out in his speedy introductions. Freshly baked rings of simit – sesame-crusted Turkish bread – sit on the counter too.
The two sandwiches on the day we visit are Babajan...
Despite visiting on a wintery day with torrential downpour, Florian is packed to the rafters. Crowds spill out of its tiny entrance on both sides, customers waiting for a table are indistinguishable from locals ordering takeaway coffee, outdoor tables are shunted towards the shelter of the footpath. Making headlines in recent weeks for the consternation it’s attracted from nearby residents doesn’t seem to have affected trade for Florian in the slightest, only made it more popular if anything. Everyone is respectful and careful to steer clear from crowding the adjacent Rathdowne Street Café and nearby houses.
One only has to look at Florian’s immediate surroundings to understand its immense appeal. Occupying the space formerly inhabited by similarly popular café Small Victories, Florian’s Allpress beans and expertly curated, European-inspired menu sets it apart from the nearby mom-and-pop cafes with menus scarcely larger than a few select pastries and stock standard favourites. Fenton, Tanaka’s new fresh produce-forward venture, is perhaps the most similar operation in the vicinity but it lies a kilometre away.
Which is not to say Florian is a slick, soulless venture. Waitstaff are warm, friendly and accommodating despite having to deal with rain-soaked outdoor tables and customers jostling for space – testament to the community-minded, local favourite childhood friends Dom Gattermayr and Rose Richards have built in the beautiful building they inherited from hospitality...
To question Gimlet’s beauty is like pondering out loud whether the sky is blue. One foot through the door into the Trader House team’s almighty fine diner and you’re swept into an era of astonishingly impressive 1920s glamour. The handsome, plush curved booths invite you to settle in and share a bottle of Champers with a friend, uniformed staff skate around the floor with ease, and warm light dances off the grand chandeliers overhead. It’s undeniably fabulous, but also cosy at the same time – less ostentatious ‘razzle-dazzle’ and more hearth-y and heartwarming somehow, even in all its magnificence.
Tonight, my friend and I are seated at the perimeter of the amphitheatre-like dining room, affording us generous views of both the sparkling hubbub of Russell Street at dusk and the swish centrepiece bar down the steps. Every dish that hovers by only serves to build that feeling of wistful anticipation, for while Gimlet is precious to look at (and sit in), our senses are set firmly on the food.
Of course, a Gimlet cocktail is the first thing you should start off with at Gimlet. And there is no better take on that juicy gin and lime invention in Melbourne than the classic one you can drink here. Refreshing and expertly balanced with moscato and a touch of Geraldton wax, it’s pure sophistication in a glass. We also knock back a Punch, a playful concoction of Jamaican rum, pomegranate wine falernum, hibiscus tea and pomegranate yoghurt. It’s a sublime start to the evening.
One...
Don’t give up if you’re finding it difficult to get a table at Navi. Once you’ve scored a booking, you’re in for a first-rate culinary adventure that’s both rare and engaging – all while being joyously laidback.
Before dinner, our group of four begin with a few drinks in the adjoining cocktail bar Navi Lounge (hot tip: this intimate spot accepts a small number of walk-ins, and you can sample Navi’s genius via snacks for as low as $7 a pop). The service both here and in the restaurant is warm and serene, and after a non-alcoholic lavender and cherry ‘No-groni that’s good enough to make me shun liquor for the rest of the night, we’re led into a space that feels more like a cosy lounge room than a fancy fine diner.
But having heard extensively about Navi, we sit a little closer to the edge of our seats. We suspect a good deal of magic is coming our way – and we’re right. Take the very first snack, for instance: a perfectly formed, concrete-hued macaron. A dessert for starters? No, it’s a wildcard flavour explosion of fermented black garlic and salmon roe. The allium’s caramelised earthiness plays well with the fresh, vibrant roe in this chewy biscuit form.
The following snacks are small aesthetic parcels of ingenious flavour: the juicy leaf of a succulent plant (bower spinach) chauffeurs smoked eel, native thyme and apple gel into our mouths. A leathery curl of smoked carrot sings with the brightness of kombucha and nutty yeast. Our table is particularly in awe over a...
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September 2024 update: Shock! Horror! We've just heard word that Soi 38 is moving from its beloved carpark digs! But there's no reason to panic. It's only moving just around the corner to 235 Bourke Street, in order to have better cooking appliances and larger seating capacity. Watch this space for more details as they unfold.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Having trouble finding Soi 38? Just follow your nose. While the address is equal parts intriguing and perplexing, the heady scent of Thailand – its star anise, galangal, chilli, lime and herbs – will lure you inside the multi-level poured concrete carpark down a laneway off Bourke Street.
Don’t go thinking this cheap-eat champion is big on the novelty and low on the substance. The brightly coloured haunt in the middle of the urban jungle can claim to have introduced Melbourne to authentic Bangkok-style boat noodles. Lurking in a pungent, funky soup brothwith a host of add-ons (braised pork or beef, a pork ball and crackling, bean sprouts andcoriander), the springy noodles ballast the sort of one-dish wonder that encompasses theentire food pyramid, big on flavour and even bigger on comfort.
Owners Andy Buchan and Top Kijphavee kicked off in 2015 serving just boat noodles and prawn wontons in tom yum soup. But the people have spoken, and they’ve incrementally added more menu items (all...
Rocketing up to the highest floor of the Rialto Tower, your ears might pop and your stomach drop, but the destination is well worth the ride. At dusk, the rapidly fading sunlight in Vue de Monde bounces off the CBD’s skyscrapers, and the twinkling lights and far-off ranges are so very, very beautiful. It’s a dramatic entrance, and one that sets the tone for your meal to follow. After all, this experience feels just as much like a work of theatre as it does a restaurant.
But you might be relieved to find the stuffiness of its previous incarnations is long gone. The centrepiece kitchen’s new extensions welcome you into the hustle-bustle: there’s an intimacy with the close-knit team and their busy work that no longer feels like a secret operation. A succession of charming international staff are introduced by name, and with the restaurant’s passionate executive chef Hugh Allen at the helm, it really does feel just like one big happy family.
And so, proceedings are eased along by my host and his impressively stocked Champagne trolley. First drink in hand, a palate cleanser chilled by a moat of ice is brought forth: a bowl of earthy radish and raspberry broth, topped artfully with geranium petals, and rendered even earthier by subtle notes of fermented koji. A grounding beginning. Next is a whisper-delicate tart wearing a crown of purple borage flowers, under which mandolin-shaved curls of avocado and samphire are a velvet savoury dream. Allen’s reverence for Indigenous...
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When you first step into the stylish airlock entrance at Stokehouse, the transportation to another world is immediate. Suspended in the liminal space, the door behind you closes and the noisy buzz of St Kilda’s busy streets fades to a calming hum. A journey begins.
Up the stairs, we head to the first floor where the magic awaits. The host is attentive and charming from the outset, offering to take our coats and guiding us to our seats before introducing the other service staff who’ll be taking care of us for the night. But while impressed, we’re not really surprised.
This is Stokehouse, after all, a bastion of traditional hospitality and serene comfort since the early 1990s. But I want to know – after all this time, does the food and drink still stack up to the restaurant’s lofty reputation? Let’s find out.
During the day, Stokehouse’s broad, floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the glistening beach, flooding the dining space with rays of sun. At night, however, it’s a moodier setting, with warm lamps and designer chandeliers elevating the interior decor – a theatre for food and sea under the moonlight.
On this chilly evening, the beach is roaring as loudly as the wind is howling, and my partner and I are feeling cosy and romantic by the window. The only word for it is cinematic. After placing our orders, we’re paid a visit by the sommelier. He’s got drink suggestions to pair with our menu choices if we’re interested – of course, we are. A dry Tasmanian brut and a bright...
Update October 2024: This review was originally written in 2022, so please be aware that some elements may have changed since.
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
It’s no easy feat to get into Minamishima. The Japanese fine diner has been around for a while, but admission to dine within its hallowed walls has remained airtight – on the first day of each month, reservations open at midday. Most people know the drill by now with seasonally changing omakases: there’s no menu and no à la carte options, which is not to say there’s no element of choice. We’re told dinner will be a seven-course meal – with the sixth and seventh course being dessert and one of the courses a selection of ten sushi that arrives between the other courses – but there are also specials you can tack on to your $265 experience. Ranging from bluefin tuna toro (the fattiest part found in the belly of the tuna) wrapped in gold leaf and oscietra caviar (a prized delicacy second only to beluga caviar in price) to the addition of shaved truffle on wagyu and jellyfish sushi with shiso herb, the specials are expansive and somewhat practically for a fine dining institution, delineated by price in our incredibly knowledgeable waitstaff’s spiel.
Starting us off is the abalone broth with winter melon and nameko mushrooms, one of the most popular fungi used for culinary purposes in...
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From the moment you book the full seasonal tasting experience on Amaru’s website, you know you’re in for an odyssey. It’s the restaurant’s most extravagant offering, after all – with five snacks, seven courses and petit fours, plus optional drink pairings. Skipping brekky isn’t a bad idea, but that’s not to say the food at Amaru will be dense or cumbersome – the progression of light to heavier dishes is carefully designed, a thoughtful pacing that allows you to take as long as you please in comfort.
Situated on a leafy boutique strip in Armadale amidst bridal shops and delis, the 34-seat venue is surprisingly low-key inside. Behind the sheer curtains concealing it from the outside world, you’re met with a starkly understated dining room accented with natural timber, earthy textiles, brushed grey walls and a statement vase of native flowers. The tables are widely spaced apart, offering a private sanctuary for languid, leisurely dining – which you’ll certainly need to fully immerse yourself in every bite that comes your way. Despite being a fine diner, there’s a mostly relaxed feel to Amaru, only interrupted when you sense a brief rush or moment of tension in the kitchen.
Curious about the housemade and fermented drinks that feature in the non-alcoholic program, I’ve opted to go booze-free today. The waiter encourages a sly glance at the wine list, and I sneak in a glass of sprightly cider from Normandy as an aperitif. It’s with equal parts trepidation and excitement that...
Time Out Melbourne never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
Nestled in the leafy backstreets of Fitzroy, Carnation Canteen is an elegant cornerside 20-seater restaurant. Inside where unembellished walls reign supreme, it feels like a modern rustic French bistro. In the white rear courtyard beneath the unfiltered rays, you almost feel like you’re in the back alleys of a Greek island.
At the risk of sounding older than I am, the loopy cursive scrawl on Carnation Canteen’s weekly rotating menu isn’t easy to decipher. The food continues in this vein – ever stylish, if not always the most satiating.
In any case, there are some noteworthy moments throughout the meal. A wedge of baked ricotta, presumably cut out of the impressive ricotta cake on the display counter, is pleasantly salty, luxuriant and crumbly. Spreading it on the accompanying slice of black kalamata olive crostini further ups the savoury ante.
The small serving of al dente spears of baby asparagus infused in the flavours of an oily pistachio crumble heaped on top is moreish, though credit to its addictive salt crunch, we wish there was a bit more of it. And the charcoal-grilled prawns with chilli and garlic, while not extraordinary, have a beautiful char and saltiness reminiscent of the sea.
The saucisson (thick, dry-cured sausage) is pleasingly paired with fava, mint and the salty, sharp tang of pecorino...
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This is very much going to sound like a first-world problem, but sometimes you’re simply not in the mood for the laborious mental demands of high-brow degustation dining. Unlike hoeing into a bowl of spag bol at your mum’s house or sharing a pizza with friends, taking the time to critically ponder the creative life’s work of a chef can feel tense and serious. This is why after a 45-minute drive from Melbourne to Beaconsfield, I’m grateful to discover the famous O.My to be a surprisingly relaxing affair. It’s hushed with natural light, as comfortable as a reading room in a library, and boasts no ostentatious distractions or highfalutin tricks up its sleeve. Serenity, at last.
The space is coloured only by splashes of cheeky modern art (there’s a painting of a man inhaling wine so enthusiastically that it’s spilt all over his suit, for example), and the vibrant personality of my sommelier. We chat a little about the local farmers’ market happening nearby, and he playfully takes a look at the blurb of the book I’ve brought with me. The plan is to do the four-course seasonal menu with snacks, sourdough and drink pairings, a shorter experience than the seven-course experience also on offer, but nevertheless not to be rushed. He’s there as a guide to talk me through each dish and make sure I’m taken care of, but promises not to hover too much that I feel encroached. It’s a lovely, breezy way to do service, and I’m started off with a glass of crisp sub-alpine sparkling wine from...
Back in 2018, the little Ripponlea restaurant that could rose to a surprise #20 entry on the much-debated (and occasionally controversial) World’s 50 Best Restaurants list. It overtook Brae’s entry the year before at #44 and set Attica firmly in the minds of the international jetset.
Ben Shewry’s experimental and unflinchingly Australian ten-course degustation has since tumbled out of the top 50, this year not even making the cut in the top 100. So what does this all mean for one of the most loved and well-known restaurants in the country? Does it still live up to its original hype years later, in 2022?
I’m happy to say, it certainly has – and that the list’s snub in favour of another, more hyped Melbourne restaurant for me, misses the mark, because Attica is still one of the most innovative, experimental, and more importantly, delicious fine dining experiences to be had in Melbourne. But, my rapturous superlatives aside, it’s almost not enough to explain why Attica is so important to Melbourne’s dining scene – so, let me explain.
We start our Attica journey greeted by the friendly, approachable staff, one of whom explains that they’ll offer us a series of dad jokes throughout, to accompany the meal. Although the first never materialises, what does is a simple dish of 'First Nations finger foods'; including a simulated bush tomato – a hard to source native ingredient – recreated here with a cherry tomato, stuffed with raisin and coated in bush tomato powder. It’s sweet,...
Prepare to be charmed when you call +39 to make a reservation. No doubt you’ll hear a gorgeous Italian accent and shouts of ‘ciao!’ in the background. +39 is a valuable addition to Melbourne’s burgeoning pizza scene. It’s open for lunch and dinner daily and embraced by CBD workers as evidenced by the deafening noise on a Thursday night.
The long rectangular shaped restaurant has stark white walls, an exposed ceiling and a glass cabinet full of giant Italian cheeses and cured meats (vegetarians may need to avert their eyes). Although pasta dishes are available – Bolognese or cannelloni are on offer today – pizza is the darling here.
The swordfish pizza from the specials board is an odd combination that doesn’t quite hit the mark. Thin slices of milky white swordfish are laid on a base with fior di latte cheese, while a ‘salad’ of raw fennel, orange segments and pistachios is strewn on top. It deserves an A for originality but the ensemble is a little bland (particularly the fish) and could do with a good salting.
We go for the tartufata: truffle paste, topped with sliced mushrooms, finished with parmesan cheese and a little bundle of rocket in the centre. The bases at +39 are outstanding. They’re thin, chewy, beautifully puffed up round the edges with a wonderful buttery flavour. A side of radicchio salad is also lovely: it’s fresh, sweet with a truffle honey dressing.
There are two kinds of people in Melbourne, those who have heard of Aangan, and those who have not. For the uninitiated, Aangan is the 15-year-old, well-oiled machine serving multiregional Indian cuisine to the local community and anyone determined enough to travel for their near-flawless food. Footscray may be known as one of Melbourne’s main Vietnamese hubs, but if you keep heading west, you’ll find yourself in Little India.
There’s a little bit of an intelligence test getting into Aangan, the restaurant is glass-fronted with doorways blocked off by inside seating. The trick is to keep walking until you hit a narrow corridor to the side of the building that eventually leads to an entrance, a hectic takeaway area, and if you keep walking, a huge, tented courtyard packed with even more diners. It may be overwhelming on your first visit because Aangan is the kind of venue where they’re full from the minute they open until the minute they close, but the staff are so used to the controlled chaos that they never miss a beat. Needless to say, unless you like waiting for a table, you’d be smart to book ahead otherwise you’ll be left in food-purgatory, staring at large tables of Indian families sharing tandoori platters, curries, naans and biryanis; couples on first dates dipping into butter chicken; or groups of friends tucking into chaat.
The menu spans India, and even a little beyond with chaat and biryani from the north, dosa, idli and sambhar from the south, plus a range of...
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When young Abla Amad came to Melbourne in 1954 she brought the love of cooking developed while watching her mother in their north Lebanese village. Later, she sharpened her culinary skills with the Lebanese women who would meet in each other’s kitchens to exchange recipes. Abla loved feeding people so much that meal-making for her family turned into hosting Sunday feasts for the community – and then came the restaurant.
Abla’s opened in 1979 in the same location it’s in today and upon entry you experience a pleasant time warp. The décor – white tablecloths, simple chairs and extravagantly framed paintings – hasn’t changed much since those early days, and the hospitality is instant: a warm welcome with olives and pita crisps already on your table.
This is one of those places where it's worth considering the banquet. In the first event, charry baba ghanoush jostles for attention with creamy yet firm labne and chunky hummus. Next up, ladies’ fingers are so fine and buttery that the filo pastry barely contains the pine nuts and minced lamb spiked with cumin, allspice and sumac – you won’t be able to stop licking your fingers. The baked chicken wings in garlic and lemon are fall-off-the-bone tender, and in these days of 1,001 spices, such a simple dish is refreshing.
Abla does two versions of the Middle East’s beloved stuffed vegetables: one with silverbeet, the other with cabbage. Don’t leave without trying the former (it's not part of the banquet but consider tacking it on),...
Acland Street Cantina is the Melbourne Pub Group’s new house of Mexican snacks, and no, it's not 'authentically Mexican'. But that’s OK. Chef Paul Wilson does great Cal-Mex. It’s the European/South American riff on the cuisine that unlike sour-creamy Tex-Mex, sees accents of radishes, figs and parsley join the often meaty taco party.
Dinner may start with chilled pumpkin 'guacamole', punching fresh with tomato salsa and festooned with pepitas and crumbled white queso fresco cheese. Scoop it up with plantain crisps, made from that starchy banana relative. It’s tasty, vibrant stuff that steers away from the oversubscribed norms, served up in another of Julian Gerner's great spaces. There’s a front café/late-night diner (3am!) decorated with so many fluoro pink lights and lolly stools it looks like Katy Perry. We actually prefer it out here to the restaurant, which aside from a compulsory Day of the Dead mosaic is just as dark and thumping with bass as when it was Mink nightclub.
Which makes it all the more disappointing that the service is letting them down. On our visit, the lack of knowledge of dishes and drinks is endemic, and though most staff are friendly enough, there’s chaos on the floor. But, forewarned is forearmed and if you can get past the glitches, there’s good food to be had here.
This is Wilson’s most Mexican offering to date (thanks to him having now actually been to Mexico). Tortillas are great. Thick and a little rough like a corn pancake for loading with...
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You never think of Fitzroy as needing more brunch, but when you consider the quality of hangover the suburb can provide there isn’t nearly enough. Who can walk more than a block or queue for eggs after a night at the Evelyn, the Everleigh or both? Not us. And clearly not the folks who live near Mark Tuckey furniture. They’ve descended on Johnston Street’s latest bruncher like it’s the great white, macramé-filled hope.
They do a gold standard classic here. Corn fritters are like deep-fried kernel-studded cornbread, with grilled haloumi and hidden in a mixed lettuce hedge with fresh tomato salsa and poached eggs. The buckwheat pancake stack is as fat as a Victoria sponge and twice as nutritious: two inch-thick disks accessorised with poached quince and massive dollop of vanilla mascarpone.
The menu is basically a roll call of café foods we love: spongy crumpets from Dr Marty; pats of cultured Pepe Saya butter and pots of raspberry/rhubarb jam. It’s Little Bertha's chocolate praline cakes in the front counter, while behind them stands barista Cam Greene, who’s migrated just 100-metres down from where he was slinging cups at Doomsday. He’ll extract you a lip numbing shot from the good folks at Padre that’s equally sweet as a neat black shortie or a full fat flattie.
It's a double couple team making Addict run like it's on wheels. Greg and Brooke Brassil used to own a coffee roastery back in Shepparton. The floor team, lead by business partners Joe and Brooke Ventura, are alert...
Food isn't always just sustenance. Whether it's spaghetti on toast or gefilte fish, the taste of a dish can evoke powerful personal and cultural memories. A little of that power seems to be at work at the Afghan Gallery, which for 24 years has been winning over Brunswick Street diners with generous servings of deceptively simple-looking food. The care with which it's prepared creates a strong impression that this food means something to the people behind the scenes. The family-owned restaurant occupies two storeys of an older-style building, the ground floor a conventional à la carte establishment with rugs and posters for colour, and the first floor laid out like a traditional Afghan banqueting room. The 'tent room' is an excellent space for parties: dimly lit and scattered with cushions, it encourages lingering as guests slide ever further under the low tables. The menu contains some amusingly vague descriptions, like spinach with “different spices” and mungbeans served with “vegetable dish”. If you need to know what’s in there, the staff will be happy to help, but if specific ingredients aren’t an issue it’s best to just relax and trust that the food will be good. Highlights include a qorma slow-cooked with chunks of eggplant so tender they collapse at the sight of a fork; lightly spiced meat samosas with homemade yoghurt; and a smooth, delicately flavoured yellow dhal served with perfect long-grained basmati rice with hints of cumin and clove. The bar is basic, but...
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August 2024 update: Agostino and its adjoining gourmet deli King and Godfree are both closed temporarily for renovations. Watch this space for more details as they unfold.
Have you ever tried to style your hair into a ‘messy bob’, or attempted to cook paella at home? As it turns out, looking effortless requires a lot of work. With Agostino, about four years’ worth has resulted in a restaurant that’s breezily confident from the outset, ready to elbow its way into Melbourne’s Italian canon. The place has barely opened, but the linen-clad staff are already gliding around buzzing rooms, pouring wines from a towering backlit cellar and swooping down plate after plate of sophisticated regional fare.
Agostino is the final, crowning jewel in the Valmorbida family’s epic complex of Italian drinking and dining, which also includes the revived King & Godfree Deli and rooftop spritz bar Johnny’s Green Room. But where the other two are more casual affairs, this upscale wine bar is here to make an impression. The space is a study in relaxed, discerning luxury, pale woods and dusty greens soothing as shiny terrazzo and marble bars adding a moneyed weight. Meanwhile, that glowing cellar holds a small town’s economy in triple digit European wines, sure to be given high rotation by the long lunchers and Carlton’s comfortable retirees. Smaller budgets are kept intact by the glass, with interest-piquing options like a buttery moschofilero from Greece and a deliciously unfussy red on tap – a...
For weeks, it was the name we’d heard most on the lips of our food-obsessed friends: Alta Trattoria. What could be so extraordinary about yet another Italian joint in a city brimming with some of the best of them? We couldn’t yet know, but we weren’t about to wait a minute longer to find out. After all, pasta is good, but good pasta is everything – even when you’re privileged enough to have already tasted some of the silkiest, sauciest and slurp-worthiest in all the land.
Do your research though, and you’ll quickly discover that Alta Trattoria is not, in fact, just “another Italian joint”. The restaurant’s specialty is a little different, zeroing in on the northern Italian region of Piedmont, which is located at the foot of the Alps and home to some of the boot nation’s most prized culinary exports. In addition, the team behind Alta Trattoria includes Luke Drum (Carlton Wine Room), chef McKay Wilday (Victoria by Farmers Daughters), Carlo Grossi (Ombra, Grossi Florentino) and vino expert James Tait (King and Godfree). A formidable crew like this at the helm is nothing to sniff at – so off we trotted on a Friday night.
Tucked away off Brunswick Street, a tomato-red-painted restaurant quietly hums with good cheer and Italo-pop music. One dining area looks out onto the graffiti-decorated side street, the other’s nestled against an imposing bar. The friendly, bustling atmosphere belies a hidden thread of formality that ties the whole operation together with the finesse of a...
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Everyone has that one friend whose restaurant recommendations are to be trusted. They’re the type of friend who follows food blogs religiously, who knows their nduja from their natto, always the first on the ground when a new hot sandwich joint opens or, in Alt’s case, a sultry modern pasta restaurant. So when that type of friend in my life gave the Niagara Lane newcomer a big, fat, green tick, it soared to the top of my hit list in an instant.
What I discovered in my research was intriguing. Everything at Alt is made in-house, including the pasta, the bread, vinegars and more. The menu’s also interesting, not your standard showcase of traditional Italian ingredients. Mossy green ribbons of pappardelle come topped with shavings of abalone, and you’ll spot diverse ingredients like kumquat, romesco, dashi jelly and edamame also making unexpected appearances in several dishes. There’s clearly a flirtation with Japan going on here.
Perhaps most surprisingly, the Korean-born chef eschews added salt in his cooking, instead building his dishes from a savoury base of house-made chicken stock. Curiosity piqued, off to lunch I go, bringing along a carb-loving colleague. Alt’s slinky dimly lit lair offers a relaxing haven from the noise of the city. We settle in with a vino each, two skin-contact whites that pair politely with a plate of fresh pumpkin bread and mushroom butter brought to our table right away. The flavours are wild and robust, as satisfying as you’d expect.
My zippy...
From the moment you book the full seasonal tasting experience on Amaru’s website, you know you’re in for an odyssey. It’s the restaurant’s most extravagant offering, after all – with five snacks, seven courses and petit fours, plus optional drink pairings. Skipping brekky isn’t a bad idea, but that’s not to say the food at Amaru will be dense or cumbersome – the progression of light to heavier dishes is carefully designed, a thoughtful pacing that allows you to take as long as you please in comfort.
Situated on a leafy boutique strip in Armadale amidst bridal shops and delis, the 34-seat venue is surprisingly low-key inside. Behind the sheer curtains concealing it from the outside world, you’re met with a starkly understated dining room accented with natural timber, earthy textiles, brushed grey walls and a statement vase of native flowers. The tables are widely spaced apart, offering a private sanctuary for languid, leisurely dining – which you’ll certainly need to fully immerse yourself in every bite that comes your way. Despite being a fine diner, there’s a mostly relaxed feel to Amaru, only interrupted when you sense a brief rush or moment of tension in the kitchen.
Curious about the housemade and fermented drinks that feature in the non-alcoholic program, I’ve opted to go booze-free today. The waiter encourages a sly glance at the wine list, and I sneak in a glass of sprightly cider from Normandy as an aperitif. It’s with equal parts trepidation and excitement that...
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