Those of you who live on Instagram already know Maison Bâtard. As the vibey new meeting spot for the who’s who of Melbourne’s society people, the swanky four-level restaurant on Bourke Street has been trending online since it opened in November 2024.
So months after opening, can we yet crown it a success? And what’s it actually like to dine at? We head in, suitably glammed up, to find out via a light dinner.
First of all, some appreciation must be paid towards the look and feel of this restaurant. It’s really, really lovely. From the stately foyer and the bustling, high-ceilinged dining room to the modern art splashed across the walls and the glamorous Audrey Hepburn-reminiscent menu design, everything just sings fabuleuse.
If some of the cocktails aren’t your jam (though my fruity-loving friend is suitably satisfied with her super-sweet Passionfruit 75), a diverse drinks list of quality wine and liquor allows you to explore beyond this territory. My Picon Biere with Kronenberg is a perfectly cool and crisp beginning to the night.
And so the food part begins. A divine air-soft cheese souffle has us swooning. An impeccably cooked fillet of King George whiting is salted just right, lifted with lemon. And though the ratatouille Provencale’s presence of herbes de Provence is less overt than what I’d like (it’s one of the few dishes I make well in its rustic form at home and I’m particularly picky about it), there’s no question that Maison Bâtard’s is velvety and olive oil-slick just as it ought to be.
We swirl saucy autumn vegetables around our forks and sip our Crittenden Estate chardonnay – an expertly paired suggestion for the fish – with an air of utter satisfaction. It’s all fantastic.
The 200 grams of eye fillet is a highlight, flawlessly cooked medium rare and served alongside a dollop of beautifully tart bearnaise. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t think the steak here is a hit. It is.
Our dessert is the famous chocolate mousse, served tableside with dramatic flair as is the current fashion. It may be a simple recipe but it’s a crowdpleaser, and as we’ve discovered on both former and subsequent visits, that astonishingly good-looking soft serve sundae with red berries and Chantilly cream is even better.
There are but two mishaps: a case of forgotten horseradish (the second accompaniment we’d requested with our steak) and a less frequent topping up of water than what I’d personally find optimal. But in a setting as charming as this and on a night so busy, we could hardly care.
Much of the criticism levelled so far at Maison Bâtard seems to be aimed squarely at the pricing, and understandably so. Order the most expensive wine and dishes (say, the $185 lobster a l’Americaine) and you’re in for a very eye-watering bill indeed. If everything wasn’t pitch perfect, you might even have steam coming out of your ears.
But for a fancy and memorable girls’ night out, my friend and I find the cost very reasonable – the knowledgeable service, satisfying food, buzzing ambience and sophisticated setting considered. Our shared bill of $350 means we’ve each paid about $175 per head – a cost that covers multiple drinks, tasty shared starters, two rich mains, a salad and an impeachable dessert. We walk away full and happily aglow with only good feelings.
Besides, this is a special occasion restaurant; you don’t haul in your puffer-jacketed self all breathless for a quick bistro-style lunch, Myer shopping bags and a menagerie of lazy table manners in tow.
No, you do it right: you set a date, make a booking, wear something nice, maybe even a bit of cologne, and you invite someone along who appreciates the cinema of it all – from the ‘grammable aesthetic plating to the irresistibly scented (is it neroli?) restrooms. Those people exist, and yes, restaurants are for them, too.
On a second visit I decide to try a table on the sunlit, second-level terrace. As pretty as a scene from The Great Gatsby, this area provides a more casual Maison Batard offering. Yes, you may still want to leave the hoodie at home, but you’re free here to graze away on friendlier snacks and a vino or two without spending too much money.
A chilled Dirty Martini and a silver platter of plump Spanish green olives whet my appetite for two dishes to follow: a bowl of spanner crab linguini with lobster oil and the much-anticipated cheeseburger.
It’s the latter that makes my partner and I sigh with awe, an unexpectedly minimalist, somewhat smooshed-looking milk bun burger. It may be a one-hander that isn’t much to look at, but its taste is something else. That crisp, golden caramelisation on the actual burger patty itself doesn’t need puddles of sauce or lettuce or tomato or pickles to amplify it – it’s just meat, bread, cheese and a conservative smear of remoulade. Sometimes all one can say is: it just. Tastes. Freaking. Awesome.
From a critic’s perspective, it can feel tempting to go harder on a big-money venture like Maison Batard, backed by the ‘big guys’ like the Lucas Group. But in this case, why must we? At the end of the day, the young people working daily in the restaurant (the chefs, the hosts, the bar team, the wise and warm sommelier) are all doing a stellar job, and they add a great deal to make this thrumming restaurant feel special, dare I say even nostalgic, especially for those of us who remember and love the glossy and glam brasserie-style restaurants of Paris and London.
Any teething mistakes – and there are very few – can be forgiven. So we’ll be back. Definitely for that cheeseburger.