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Over the last generation, Carnegie has become a hub for Southeast and East Asian cuisine, and for an after-hours energy that rivals the CBD. Tyga is an evolution of that history. There’s nothing else quite like it around – it sits in a more upscale category than its peers and draws inspiration from right across Asia, where they tend to have a singular focus – but it nods to what came before it with an ethos and energy that feel right at home in the suburb.
The vibe
Think breezy ’70s coastal California with a touch of Bangkok-meets-Tokyo kitsch, the bar lined with vintage Yamaha speakers, vinyl and liquor from Australia and beyond. The space is open-plan, meaning you can see from the curtain-concealed entrance all the way to the shiny silver open kitchen, but plush booths and soft lighting keep things warm and cosy. Service is not overly fussy, but your plates will get cleared between courses and your napkin folded if you duck to the bathroom.
The food
In food, ‘authenticity’ is a dirty word in my book, suggesting that there’s one correct way for a dish or cuisine to exist. Tradition, on the other hand, feels like a more appropriate gauge – leaving room for interpretation and evolution. I say without judgment that Tyga isn’t particularly tied to the traditions of the cuisines it draws from. The freewheeling menu bounds between regions and, for the most part, sticks the landing.
The smaller dishes are the strongest: a two-bite tartare inspired by nasi lemak pairs tender cubes of Wagyu, anchovy, macadamia, egg and a punch of sambal onto a long, curled rice puff. Kangaroo seasoned with horseradish and Vegemite, thinly sliced and served with a bounty of leaves is giving Crying Tiger in form, bossam in function, Aussie in influence.
And a pudgy coconut roti gleaming with crab sambal that, just when you think it couldn’t get better, is served with a hunk of sambal-crusted bone marrow. It’s a must-order, mimicking the experience of using roti to scoop up a gelatinously fatty curry, except the kitchen has put in some extra legwork to engineer the perfect bite.
We take a gamble on some of the vegan and vegetarian dishes. The wok hei vegetables are as they sound, given a smoky char and served alongside ricotta and salted egg – a pleasant step up from your standard side of veg. The eggplant and mushroom kra pow, meanwhile, didn’t resemble any version of the dish I’d ever seen. Perhaps the veg should be sliced smaller, cooked longer, and finished with a fried egg rather than a soft-boiled one. Perhaps the name should be changed. Or perhaps this was exactly as intended – a familiar dish, evolved.
Despite a few underwhelming moments, a full house late into a weeknight reinforces that Tyga has more strengths than weak points, and has found its place in a suburb already rife with good food.
The drinks
A space as bright and lively as Tyga begs for a fun cocktail – here, the formula is classics reimagined with Asian-inspired liqueurs and ingredients, most veering a little sweet and tropical. An Old Fashioned-esque number is made with bourbon, rum, banana, chocolate and black sesame, while the Wild Tyga – mezcal, lemongrass, galangal, mandarin curaçao, lime and agave – is their take on a Spicy Marg.
Wines are mostly local, with some exceptions. The South African chenin blanc was a highlight, with just enough sharpness and salinity to cut through the rich and savoury dishes. There’s also a surprisingly strong focus on beer, with some local brews alongside lesser-known imports from Vietnam, Laos and Thailand.
Time Out tip:
If you’re vegetarian or dining with one, Tyga offers an entire meat-free menu, so there’s plenty to choose from beyond the usual token veg options.
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