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80 Collins Street has quickly become the epicentre for Melbourne's corporate elite to wine, dine, close deals, and drop serious company cash. High up, in an expansive dining room, lies the epitome of this corporate nirvana: Chris Lucas' Society.
Lucas, a household name in Melbourne's dining scene, is behind some of the city's most iconic spots, including Kisumé, Grill Americano, and the beloved Chin Chin. As with many of his ventures, Society operates with an air of efficiency and polished consistency, making it a comfortable choice for business lunches or special events. While it undeniably carries a sense of scale, that grandness often comes at the expense of the intimate, quirky charm smaller venues tend to offer. In its place is a refined, corporate aura, which can sometimes feel like the dining experience has been tightly scripted.
The design of Society is undeniably luxurious. Think George Jensen salt and pepper shakers, silver champagne buckets, and chandeliers that scream elegance, signaling that you're in for an extravagant night. It’s a place that knows how to impress, with every corner crafted for maximum effect. Still, there’s an element of coolness to the space, a sense that everything has been carefully curated to create an image of exclusivity. While this approach succeeds in generating an air of sophistication, it can sometimes feel a little removed from the authentic warmth of more relaxed venues.
But, as they say, the most important question is: Is the juice worth the (financial) squeeze? The answer? Sometimes.
In Society, you're not just paying for the meal – you're buying into the name. The menu is divided into canapés, raw dishes, small bites, crustacea (ooh la la) and shared plates. Navigating it can be tricky, as the price doesn't always correlate with size, so it's best to ask your waiter for guidance.
Speaking of size-slash-cost correlation, the waiter warned us that the canapés were truly bite-sized, so the diminutiveness of the beef crumpet ($19.50) and abalone tempura ($18.50) does not surprise us.
The Angus beef delivers rich, savoury flavours, though the crumpet itself feels slightly dense compared to what one might expect (see Reed House for a paragon crumpet example). The abalone tempura, however, is expertly fried, offering a crisp exterior and a delicate, sweet interior. I also couldn't resist ordering a Jalapeno Gibson ($26), pairing my beloved Never Never Oyster Shell gin with jalapeno vermouth and chartreuse. Though the cocktail’s spice level doesn’t quite hit the mark, it’s still a well-balanced, refreshing drink.
The tuna Ccudo with olive and ponzu ($42.50) arrives in a glossy emulsion with five thick, blushing tuna slices. The tuna itself is rich and buttery, showcasing the quality of the fish, though the ponzu sauce is unexpectedly sweet and leaves an oily aftertaste. The dish might benefit from a more restrained hand in the kitchen, but the tuna remains the star.
As for the larger dishes, the King George whiting with sauce Américaine ($68.50) is beautifully executed. The fish is fresh and flaky, and the sauce, while a little on the loose side, provides a rich, shellfish-forward flavour. The Wagyu hanger with tarragon mustard ($68.50) shines with its tenderness and robust beef flavour. Being a lover of the classics, we ask for béarnaise sauce and it balances the dish wonderfully.
No steak is complete without frites, and the fries with thyme salt ($18.50) are some of the best in town – piping hot and well salted,with that magical balance of crispy and fluffy. A couple of fries, a piece of steak, and a dunk in the béarnaise sauce is a combination I can't get out of my mind.
On the other hand, the grilled broccolini with miso and pistachio ($19.50) doesn’t quite live up to expectations. The broccolini is grilled and cut into small pieces, but the promised miso flavour is nowhere to be found. It's a shame, as broccolini can be fantastic, but the result is bland with the lack of seasoning – I don't think they'll make any friends with this salad.
We pair the meal with an exceptional Pewsey Vale Estate riesling ($98). Society boasts an extensive wine cellar, and while some of the options may feel indulgent, this particular bottle is reasonably priced, refreshing, and pairs beautifully with both fish and steak.
The mango souffle with mountain marigold and yoghurt ice cream ($28.50) feels like an appropriately indulgent way to end the meal (not as indulgent as the caviar sundae, but even I have my limits). The souffle is warm and impossibly airy but retains a strong eggy flavour, and it's the yoghurt ice cream that has my dining companion and I jousting with our spoons — marvelously sour and light in texture, I would buy this by the bucket if I could.
Society certainly offers a dining experience that matches its stunning setting – grand, polished and undeniably indulgent. While not every dish reaches the heights expected from such a high-profile venue, there are certainly moments of excellence, particularly with crowd-pleasers like the hanger steak and fries. Those looking to indulge in a memorable evening of fine dining in extreme opulence won’t be disappointed. But for those seeking a more personal or adventurous dining experience, there are other options in the city that offer a more compelling narrative. It’s certainly worth a visit, but perhaps with tempered expectations.
