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 romano, but otherwise doesn’t pack a punch. The same goes for the rare cold beef with horseradish and pea shoots, where the horseradish could’ve been dialled up to cut through the fleshiness of the meat.
Tian de courgettes au riz is akin to a deconstructed gratin, and as delicately tasty as it is, particularly with the surprising addition of zucchini flowers, a traditional gratin would’ve sated us more at this point – portions tend towards the insubstantial.
The scotch fillet with roast potatoes is the first dish to elicit a wow – there’s good fat cap on the steak, which is immaculately cooked and comes with a dollop of high-quality yellow mustard. The roast potatoes are faultless.
A side dish of slow-cooked fennel with saffron, pine nuts and sultanas is a full-bodied accompaniment, thanks to the jammy fennel rendered so from slow-braising.
Service is neither preemptive nor responsive.There’s some confusion with water at our table, with glasses remaining unfilled for much of the time, and mistakes regarding sparkling and still preferences. Carnation prides itself on its three-stage water filtration system, so it’s a shame that the delays persist even after we explicitly request top-ups. Our carafe is prematurely removed even though there’s still an inch of wine left. Music levels are inconsistent, at times overwhelmingly loud.
Nevertheless, service can be convivial – we’re encouraged to add a shot of Montenegro to our affogato and it’s one of the best affogatos we’ve ever had. The selection of house wines punch far above their weight. Similarly a highlight is the rhubarb trifle dessert. Far more complex than its name would suggest, it’s more akin to a light, friand-like sponge cake layered with rhubarb compote and cream.
Carnation Canteen has gained many plaudits since opening up earlier this year, and with a constantly rotating menu, there’s no question new discoveries await on future revisits.
But while there’s much to love here – the beautiful décor, the unhurried feel, certain standout dishes – refinements to both service and substance will ensure Carnation Canteen’s offering catches up to its style.