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To get to Moonah, you drive down a long dirt road through the coastal wetlands of Connewarre and into the Minya Vineyard and Winery, established in 1974 by Jeff and Sue Dans. It’s peaceful in this part of the state, a sensory interplay of sunlight, warmth, birdsong and sea breezes from the Southern Ocean just a kilometre away.
The 12-seater restaurant is even more grounding, if you can believe it – a sun-drenched space with big windows and gorgeous views. From the outset, it all feels very laid back and Australian. Both the service and design exude a more relaxed kind of formality than certain other regional fine diners around Victoria, its soundtrack languidly swinging from Elliott Smith to Fleetwood Mac. Yet the ensuing meal is one so special that I’ve since been unable to forget it.
A balcony overlooks the winery’s flat, atmospheric billabong, and it’s here where my dining journey begins. The hostess brings out a terracotta dish of midnight pearl potato crisps, which I enjoy alongside a gumleaf-garnished Gin and Tonic. Next arrives an angasi oyster with parsnip puree and yuzu agrumato, and a speckly-fried nugget of farmhouse cheese – a stellar pair of savoury snacks to ease into the three-hour degustation menu I’m about to experience.
Moonah is owned and operated by Tobin Kent, a chef with plenty of experience working in exceptional regional hospitality venues – from Birregurra’s Brae to Dunkeld’s Royal Mail Hotel. His menu is one that connects strongly to nature, celebrating dishes that are pure, honest and speak of the land (or waters) from which they come. Ingredients are collected strictly from one of three sources: local producers, the chef’s own kitchen garden or the wild. It’s exhilarating to anticipate what sort of magic Kent can weave from these raw elements.
After being led back into the main part of the restaurant, the first official dish is brought to my table: a lone mollusc sitting in a shallow pool of mussel broth seasoned only with sparkling wine. It’s lovely to experience the ingredient so unadorned, the simplicity of the dish allowing its sea-fresh flavours to shine and sparkle on their own. In the same course, I’m served a toasted sourdough biscuit with salt-marsh vegetables, with which a glass of 2022 Heroes Vineyard dry riesling from the Otway Hinterland makes for a suave pairing.
Though I’m equally enamoured with the grilled calamari that comes next (the lime and seawater emulsion it’s served in carries those same beautifully saline notes), it’s the third dish that’s the most exciting yet. It’s “the best part of the Southern rock lobster,” my hostess tells me. I slide the sweet, tender flesh of the limb out of its shell and dip it into its green garlic and Geraldton wax dipping sauce. Lemony-native characters skip across my tongue, and I relish it slowly, as one should!
I’m back on dry land with a dish of confit beetroot, which is dotted with jewel-like flavour bursts of salmon roe and finger lime, and served with Cobaw Ridge’s Il Pinko syrah rosé from the Macedon Ranges. Marrying red and pink together might be considered a major faux pas in the world of fashion, but in this dish, they couldn’t be better friends.
And then, when I assume the peaks couldn’t ascend any higher, the fish of the day arrives. It’s a luxuriously moist luderick fillet, glossy with seafood butter (and tasting as sumptuous as it sounds). The chef has artfully sprinkled a shower of small yellow flower buds on top, and I can’t resist taking a quick snap.
The rest of the meal unfolds at the same exceptional standard. An elegant slice of cured Berksire pork, served with salted wild plum chutney, melts in my mouth – near-celestial with a William Downie pinot noir. Challenging the classic pinot-and-duck pairing, the dry-aged duck that comes next is served with Castagna Estate’s 2009 Genesis syrah blend instead. The pairing works, and I’m in awe of the juicy, perfectly pink meat.
Moonah’s sweet finish comes as two separate desserts, served one after the other. The first is a delightfully tart mess of Granny Smith apple, repurposed sourdough, Meyer lemon and walnut, followed by a sort of walnut cake dressed in Jerusalem artichoke caramel and a scoop of custard-like ice cream. I’m utterly satisfied, yet the lunch has felt healing rather than overindulgent.
There’s a genuine sophistication to Moonah’s balancing of flavours, like a niche perfume or a long-forgotten memory suddenly carried by the wind, and the chef’s nature-driven ethos is present in every dish. Seafood is undoubtedly a highlight here, and I’d recommend the beverage pairing as an unmissable aspect of the experience.