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.
The Lygon Street space that once housed the Alehouse Project is now home to expansive cocktail bar Maggie’s. Exposed brick walls adorned with French-style art deco posters and a candle-lit shrine that looks like something out of The Craft form the cosy backdrop to your visit. Despite floor-to-ceiling windows, the space retains a pleasant warmth in cooler weather and the din of nearby people is absorbed by perfect acoustics – this is a place you can bring your parents.
Maggie’s has a laidback enough quality that it beckons you in for dessert and a drink as much as it’s ideal for an hours-long meal. The menu is eclectic, with a strong Polynesian influence coming through in dishes like the Māori fried bread, the Cook Island ceviche and the hangi potato smashies – owing to New Zealand-born chef Scott Blomfield. Apart from a few outliers, the dishes are rich and indulgent, so order wisely or conserve some much-needed stomach space. Divided into ‘nibblish’, snackish’, ‘peckish’ and ‘famished’, it’s a menu designed for sharing.
Beers, ciders and wines on offer spotlight Australian producers, while the sophisticated cocktails are fashioned from byproducts of the kitchen. When we visit, the horchata for the horchata fizz cocktail has run out, but the pistachio orgeat used in its place nevertheless culminates in flavours reminiscent of the Mexican rice milk dish. One of the two pet nats we want also isn’t in stock, but we’re offered the more expensive bottle for the price of the cheaper, unavailable one – the service at Maggie’s is exemplary like that.
The ‘nibblish’ section is a strong start. The warmed oyster arrives in a pool of hot sauce beurre blanc, which doesn’t detract from the bivalve’s freshness. The thinly slivered sweet potato chips that arrive alongside a Kiwi onion dip – traditionally powdered onion soup mixed in with reduced cream, but made from scratch in Maggie’s case – is the perfect drinking snack. House-baked nori sourdough is accompanied by a pleasantly pungent marmite butter with strong notes of maple. In the citrus-cured zucchini tart, mushroom dashi cream cheese risks overwhelming the thin vegetable rounds and flaky pastry. This, you can also find at Pie Thief, another venture of Blomfield’s.
Deboned and substantial enough to be shared between two people, the fried chicken wing stuffed with scallop and tarragon mousse will have you scratching your head as your tastebuds oscillate between discerning the poultry from the seafood, but the juxtaposition works. The buffalo sauce recalls the same hot sauce beurre blanc used on the oysters.
Ika mata – Cook Islands’ national dish where raw fish is marinated in citrus and soaked in coconut cream – is labelled as ceviche on Maggie’s menu, but the result is something altogether richer and less acidic than the shorthand would suggest on account of the coconut cream and chilli oil. The raw fish in this case is barramundi, a fleshy and substantive vessel for all the flavours – best scooped up by the accompanying cassava cracker.
And how to even begin describing the hangi potato smashies slathered with luxuriant boiled egg mayo? A turbo-charged version of twice-cooked potatoes comes to mind; the crisp crust enveloping the fluffy spuds is only bettered by the immensely savoury topping, so abundant you can spread it across all potatoes for even coverage.
The pan-fried brussel sprouts should be a green interlude, but coupled with an imperceptible sesame dressing and cubed lap cheong, it has the opposite effect – the rapid onset of fullness. The sprouts themselves are aspirationally crunchy and impossible to stop eating.
Desserts are a highlight in and of themselves. The jelly tip is akin to the frozen equivalent of an iced vovo – a bi-layered slice with white chocolate and Davidson Plum ice cream on the bottom and raspberry jelly on the top. It sits in a pool of miso sesame crumb, with creamy dollops of yuzu cheesecake. Simultaneously minty and citrusy, it’s a dessert of disparate elements that work in unison with one another. The jaffa brulée orange tart is altogether heavier and more extravagant.
Maggie’s is a breath of fresh air in what sometimes feels like a dime a dozen Melbourne wine and cocktail bars – you never know what you’re going to get here. People never think to venture towards the back, so big is Maggie’s dual storefront, but the fairylight-studded courtyard is a treat in summer. In further good news for those who hanker for a sublime meal to kick off their week, Maggie’s has just started opening its doors on Monday nights.
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.