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There’s a woman kissing a fish on the wall. Next to it, three people are entangled in octopus tentacles. One holds a lobster above their head. Another, a bottle of Champagne. And there’s an upturned foot balancing a Martini with three olives. This isn’t some luxe oceanic rave, but the work of local artist Bec Fernon, whose playful murals delight from the walls of Bronte’s new neighbourhood restaurant, Table Manners.
The art underpins the restaurant’s whole ethos, really, which is to say: Table Manners doesn’t take itself too seriously.
The Euro-leaning diner, the first venture by Bronte local Alex Cameron – the former general manager of the award-winning Armorica, Franca and Parlar – has a seriously beautiful and considered dining room, though. It’s the work of Sydney-based interior designers and architects Blainey North. Elegant with white tablecloths, smart lampshades, sturdy sea-green chairs and flickering candlelight, the 75-seat dining room is also calming with soft linen curtains, hues of wet sand and aqua accents.
There’s also a six-seat bar for post-beach Spritzes, and a semi-private dining room with a round marble table and burnt-orange chairs, that deserves a page in Architectural Digest. Menus say: ‘Make a mess’ and ‘Lick your plate’, which I probably won’t be doing due to the aforementioned white tablecloths (and also the fact I’m surrounded by the who’s who of the Eastern Suburbs – hi, Jackie O), but it’s a bit of fun. It feels like a younger, spirited Mimi’s, minus the Big Blue views and the prices.
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My cocktail has just arrived – Hook Me Up – a pink number made with jalapeño-infused Batanga Tequila Blanco, rhubarb shrub, bitters and house grapefruit soda, that’s humming with fruity sweetness, spice and smoky notes. Next to us, a Martini is served with its own mini ice bucket, alongside Sicilian olives, pickled onions and roasted almonds. Truthfully, I have FOMOOAM (fear of missing out on a Martini). But: next time.
Cameron has brought on Luke Churchill to head up the kitchen, who is drawing on his time at Parlar and Oncore by Clare Smyth to bring relaxed luxury to Macpherson Street. We kick off with butter slathered over bouncy sourdough made up the road at Iggy’s Bread, and a finger of toast crowned with cubes of cold ruby tuna belly underneath a light horseradish snow. A nori-spiked emulsion brings umami depth, and it’s a ripper start.
A potato aligot croquette has a come-hither golden and crunchy armour wrapped around a smooth and cheesy inside. A side of nutty rocket pesto injects flavour, though I would love a squeeze of lemon to lift it.
We keep the root vegetable theme going with pumpkin agnolotti (that’s on the thicker side) jazzed up with goat’s cheese and salsa macha. Toasted pepitas and sunflower seeds add a nice textural crunch, though it’s more granola-leaning than garlic-and-chilli heady salsa macha. The balance is on point, with natural sweetness from the pumpkin balanced by the salty cheese. It’s even better with a glass of 2023 M&J Becker chardonnay from the Hunter Valley, that’s bright with subtle oak, from the well-priced wine list (there’s a great range, too, with drops from mostly France, Italy and Australia).
Even though it’s nighttime, we order the Moreton Bay bug club sandwich, a high-flying take on the nostalgic bowlo classic, served with shoestring fries. The bug meat is textbook-cooked, and layered between tomato, lettuce and crisp bacon. A bug-laced sauce amps up the flavour, though we do wonder whether the sea-sweet meat is wasted sandwiched between bread (I can see this dish better enjoyed in the bar area after a swim with a cold beer).
Most tables are ordering the signature crispy spaghetti with chilli, tomato and king prawns, but we go for the sirloin. It comes charred and rosy with an enhanced flavour thanks to the dry aging, and topped with a punchy and savoury bagna càuda butter. On the side is pressed potato, the layers looking like caramelised pages of a book. We finish with a lemon and polenta madeleine that’s crumbly and still warm with a hint of citrus. It tastes like holidays.
Service has been friendly and attentive – our water glasses have been filled all night – though I reckon the team will flourish with more internal communication (we're asked the same questions a few times).
It’s nearly 9.30pm when it’s time to go. We’ve been here three hours on a school night, which is saying something. And the dining room is packed, with half the tables just onto their main course.
Just like the murals, seeing the room so lively is a delight, and shows that Bronte locals have welcomed Table Manners like surfers welcome a B&E after hitting the waves.
Bring your manners – or don’t – and check out the new kid on the block.
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