Restaurant and wine bar Lene, pronounced Lenny, doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s a veritable gallery with wall-to-wall expanses of bold and colourful paintings, but there’s no stiff tablecloths or opaque dining codes to abide by here – unlimited sparkling water is available for only $5, off-menu items are rattled off with an easy nonchalance. The narrow space, all timber, has a relaxed feel.
Which is not to say the food isn’t serious. Like the assorted playlist in the background which runs the gamut from hip-hop to indie rock to classical music, wunderkind owner-chef Cameron Williams’ menu is an eclectic one, borrowing influences from India, China, Italy, France. The culmination is, if not particularly cohesive, novel and exciting.
Mains tend to veer towards bistro-style dishes – expect a steak, fish, chicken – and while they’re more than noteworthy, it’s in the appetisers where Lene’s spirit of experimentation truly shines.
One of the off-menu drinks is Lene’s special Jalapeño Margarita and we see why it’s earned that moniker. The spiced salt on the rim has a heat that radiates to the back of your mouth with each sip and leaves your lips tingling. There’s a brief cocktail list and a more extensive wine list, with certain bottles in the cellar collection of the latter climbing to the multi-thousand-dollar mark.
Kicking off our entrees is the immaculately fried bhaji, a crisp nest of corn encased in a light, incredibly airy batter. The accompanying, self-labelled bottle of housemade fermented habanero and cherry hot sauce is simultaneously piquant, sweet and vinegary – like a zhushed up Tabasco – but it packs a certifiable punch; be sure to only pour out a little to dab your bhaji with.
Thin, crisp slivers of crostini fashioned out of unused sourdough nibs are the perfect vessel to scoop out one of the most ingenious creations we’ve come across – a runny poached egg mixed in with fried strands of Brussel sprouts, almost like floss, lifted by the citrus of salted lemons. It’s an explosion of umami, particularly when we dip curried whitebait fries fragrant with makrut lime and curry leaves – a daily special – into the concoction.
East Asian condiments are rarely thought of as spreads, but they should be if the next dish we enjoy is anything to go by. Pickled mussels arranged artfully on chargrilled, springy sourdough are topped by a healthy heap of XO sauce – a double injection of seafood-y goodness – with the pickled mussels briny yet acidic enough to cut through the sheer savouriness of the sauce.
Chicken is often perceived as a boring thing to order when you dine out at a fancy establishment, but Lene’s succulent half-chook in a rich, luxurious roast chicken sauce puts paid to this assumption. The wilted wild rocket does a bit to cut through the richness, but a tart component – like the salted lemons in the Brussel sprouts entree – wouldn’t have gone astray.
The bouncy springiness of sorrel is the centrepiece of the immaculately al dente pici which is given the peppery and cheesy cacio e pepe treatment, while the moreish pressed potato is like a happy union between hasselback potatoes and the humble potato cake.
Desserts tread the familiar and the lesser known. The silky smooth crème caramel refrains from being too sweet when surrounded by segments of pleasantly bitter blood orange, while the meticulously assembled bombe Alaska is complex and multifaceted with an external layer of sweet meringue, a middle layer of ice cream so light and airy it’s more akin to semifreddo, and a sturdy yet light base of sponge cake. It’s a dessert for champions.
Our attentive hostess, somehow adeptly servicing the entire room single-handedly, inexplicably knows exactly how much food we’ll need and advises us accordingly – she doesn’t miss.
Chef Williams changes the menu every week, but you can expect the same ethos across the rotating cavalcade of dishes – housemade everything, varying cultural influences, new and exciting combinations of ingredients, and novel interpretations of age-old classics.
