To say that Bistro Molines chef and owner, Robert Molines, is the grandfather of Hunter hospitality is no overstatement. Together with wife Sally, Bistro Molines has set the bar for food, warm hospitality, and stunning views when it comes to dining in wine country since 2008 and judging by the crowd on a crisp Monday lunch service, the locals and travellers alike are still flocking.
Diners could be forgiven for thinking their tour bus had dropped them off in a provincial French winery if it weren't for the noisy galahs giving the game away, but the bent wrought iron chairs, thickly laid white tablecloths, silvery lavender and cobbled stone courtyard do a pretty convincing impression. In tandem with the rolling hills of the vineyard and dramatic dappled clouds, no matter what comes out of the kitchen, this is a lunch to remember.
The menu at Molines has remained largely unchanged, we are told, since the doors first flung open, while an extensive list of specials changes regularly to flex creative muscles. On it you may find delicate crumbed lamb's brains one day, butter and caper fried market fish the next, though it's clear that the adage of "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" has served the team well.
Some folks correctly go crazy for the twice-cooked duck breast; the skin crisp from perfectly rendered fat shrouding the blushing pink flesh. For others, it's got to be the roast pork belly, with an unmissable apple and morcilla tart. An equally valid craving. For us, however, it's impossible to pass up the chance of chowing down on a pixie-sized deboned quail on a bed of thyme-heavy lentils, complete with a sticky, Christmas-spiced cotechino sausage. This act is quickly followed with a tender noisette of local venison with parsnip ecrasse (that's mash, for those not of the continent).
Naturally, dessert in a French bistro is bound to be special, and we are far from let down when the 'pre-dessert' scallop-shaped madelines show up with coffee. The main event, however, is the rich and sharp lemon posset. Despite being a more English dessert, there's nothing wrong with a jaunt across the Channel when it's executed so spectacularly. So dense you could park a spoon in it, the reduced cream is rich, silky and incredibly fresh. What a high to finish on. The only thing that beats the meal and the attentive, friendly hospitality, is the post-lunch stroll across to the look-out to take in those incredible views.