Candice Chung

There’s no doubt about it, Sydneysiders can’t get enough of Italian food. And who can blame us? There’s something about a bowl of perfectly al dente pasta paired with a luscious, rich ragu that just hits the spot. And white Italian cuisine differs throughout the 20 incredible regions – broadly speaking the northern regions eat more rice and polenta, and down south they feast more on seafood – Italians share a love of beautiful, seasonal produce, choosing simplicity rather than overcomplicating dishes, and cooking food with soul. No wonder we love it so much. Luckily, there are a wealth of excellent options to choose from when it comes to Italian dining in Sydney. Time Out’s editors and critics, including our Food & Drink Editor Avril Treasure, have picked our favourite eateries covering all bases – from casual red-sauce joints and classic pizzerias to fine dining restaurants – so no matter what mood you're in, there's something here for you. Stay in the loop: sign up for our free Time Out Sydney newsletter for more news, food & drink inspo and activity ideas, straight to your inbox. Not in the mood for pasta? Here are our picks of the best spots for Greek and French food in Sydney.

Long gone are the days when mushroom risotto was the only option on Sydney menus for vegetarians. Okay, so a few places are still championing that veggo staple, but if you know where to go you don't need to set eyes on it again. Not all of these restaurants are exclusively vegetarian, but every place on this list is serving the kind of exciting, delicious vegetable-based fare that will make you reconsider meat in favour of a whole head of roasted cauliflower, a perfect puffy pizza or a totally plant-based degustation. Stay in the loop: sign up for our free Time Out Sydney newsletter for more news, food & drink inspo and activity ideas, straight to your inbox. If you're a dedicated herbivore, you can find Sydney's best vegan restaurants. Want more? Check out our guide to Sydney's best restaurants here.

France – the home of love, day drinking, red berets and impossibly stylish people. It’s also home to fine French fare: everything from soft cheeses and fresh baguettes to bouillabaisse bursting with the flavour of the sea. When your annual leave is all dried up, Francophiles can get their fix at one of Sydney’s many excellent French restaurants. Here are the best places to dine on French cuisine, from steak frites to silky crème brûlées, so you can feel oh-so French any day of the week. Stay in the loop: sign up for our free Time Out Sydney newsletter for more news, food & drink inspo and activity ideas, straight to your inbox. While you're here, check out: These are the best Italian restaurants in Sydney Here's where to find the tastiest Greek food in Sydney Quench your thirst with our list of the best bars in the city

Whether it’s a simple spaghetti with garlic, oil and chilli, ravioli stuffed to the high heavens, or lovingly layered lasagne, few foods give us the feels quite like pasta. Let’s be real – Sydney’s Italian restaurant game is seriously strong on all fronts, but when the hour calls for carbs, these are the spots that turn flour, eggs and water into small miracles. Time out Sydney's critics and pasta lovers – including Food & Drink Editor Avril Treasure – have smashed their fair share of pasta in town, and here are our favourites. Stay in the loop: sign up for our free Time Out Sydney newsletter for more news, food & drink inspo and activity ideas, straight to your inbox. Need an aperitivo before you chow down? Knock back a cocktail at one of the best bars in Sydney. After a slice of two? Here are the best pizza joints in Sydney.

At Dulcie’s Kings Cross, history nerd and co-owner Brandon Martignago (ex Roosevelt, Jangling Jack’s) has built an entire drinking den around the year 1932.There are good reasons for this ultra specific reference. It’s the year the Harbour Bridge opened — when Sydney catapulted onto the world stage, and artists and writers like Norman Lindsay and Kenneth Slessor brought their bohemian influence to Kings Cross, turning it into a buzzing cultural hub. The bar is named after Dulcie Deamer — a New Zealand-born writer, poet, thespian and a regular at some of the biggest parties thrown by the era’s creative circle. She would have felt at home in a booth at this moody bohemian lounge, eyeing off the expansive, meticulously illustrated cocktail list. All of Martignago’s creations are made with Australian craft spirits and the signature drinks are inspired by “the lovely and the ugly”, a roll call of people, places and things that would’ve been part of Dulcie’s colourful world in 1930s Sydney. Repin’s Coffee pays tribute to Russian-born Ivan Repin, who’s credited for opening one of Sydney’s first coffee shops near Hyde Park in 1930. It’s a sweet, desserty number that tastes like the love child of a White Russian and Espresso Martini. You’ll get a kick from the peaty Old Youngs Smoked Vodka, and a nice sugar rush from the healthy shot of Mr. Black Coffee Liquor poured over honey and chai-steeped milk. Nothing says speakeasy louder than ‘bathtub cut gin’. Adelaide’s Prohibition Liquor C

Between the Marly, Corridor and the relatively fresh-faced PGs, this block of North Newtown is not an area that's shy about its penchant for boozy parties. Joining the set is Tandem, a hygge-loving Scandi cocktail bar that feels a bit like having a sweet, stylish introvert moving into your rowdy share house.  At Tandem they're leaning into the theme with a bike mounted above the entrance, whimsical Nordic posters and après-ski references inside. And we're not just talking decor, because it's also the only aquavit-focused bar in Sydney.  Why aquavit? Owner Peter Lynn has Danish roots and in February this year he decided to totally overhaul the menu to focus on the savoury, caraway flavoured spirit. You’ll find two main kinds of aquavits (the stronger, Danish Aalborg; and the more mellow, barrel-aged Norwegian Linie) in the mix. For those with a sweet tooth, a good gateway drink is the Thrift Shop Fizz. It's made with lemon, tonic and a silky foam that’s flavoured by offcuts of rosemary sprigs and orange peel. The result is tart and sherbety, with a herbaceous backbone from the aquavit.  For a smokey option, the Frozen Fjord uses the rounder Linie Sherry aquavit as a base, with extra kick from a splash of mezcal. There’s a sour note from grapefruit juice and maraschino's distinct, medicinal bite. Or if straight spirits don't scare you, we recommend the Martini Aurora, stained the palest shade of rose-quartz pink by a house-made dill and pepperberry tincture.  For a deep dive in

In Sydney, our collective thirst for secret drinking spots makes it hard to run a speakeasy. We want somewhere hidden from plain sight — but also nothing too crowded, too pretentious or too hard to find. That’s where French-born friends Lucas Cristofle and Ben Labat (ex-Grounds of Alexandria) come in. The duo have opened up a very likeable cocktail bar in Newtown.The drinks are listed on butchers paper next to the moody, back-lit bar. The Slim Jim is a sweet, ruby concoction of classic bitter, cherry syrup, lemon and Four Pillars ‘Bloody Shiraz gin’. The high proof spirit is made with Yarra Valley shiraz grapes and gives the drink a long, spicy finish. A Pisco Max is a tropical upgrade of Pisco sour. It tastes like summer in a glass, thanks to the triple-hit of citrus from the yuzu and passionfruit puree, lemon and orange bitters. PGs’ entrance is creatively disguised. On the Marly Bar end of King Street, look for a facade of timber bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes. The shopfront is a tribute to Cristofle and Labat’s book-loving mothers Pat and Gigi, after whom the bar is named. However, for those sweaty summer months they've taken down the books to let the breeze in – it'll go back up in Autumn. The pink neon signs of nude female chest and back that flank the bar? Very French references to the two women, too. But this isn’t the Moulin Rouge. At PG’s, you’ll find chesterfield lounges, potted plants, chandeliers and long timber tables that make you feel like you’re

We’re staring at a glass karaoke box, trying to work out why no one is singing. It’s a strange sight given the room is packed and the song is Spice Girl’s ‘2 Become 1’. The reason, it seems, is that everyone is face-deep in chicken wings. At Bang Bang Izakaya, this is called a tebasaki tower: a soy and peppery stack of 15 fried wings that come with a basket of latex gloves. Like those fried snacks, a first visit to this sparky Japanese bar might feel like a sensory overload. It’s a combined effect of the bullet-sprayed roller doors, glowing red lanterns, timber stalls, neon lights, and vending machines that cough up Pokemon-themed soda. Is this what it’s like to be inside a trippy Murakami novel? Give your brain a moment to adjust and the pieces will fall into place. Bang Bang, we’re told, is designed to mirror Japan in the eyes of a gaikokujin (foreigners, like us). We settle in the ‘Downtown Tokyo’ section of the 85-seater, where waist-high stools and small round tables flank the long, backlit bar. Like a proper izakaya, Bang Bang excels at affordable small plates. At almost every table are plump katsu sliders or bronzed triangles of yaki onigiri (grilled rice balls). Dishes from the robata are a highlight. The smoky, soy-glazed cuttlefish is air-dried then grilled to a deep magenta. Or try the fish saiko miso — juicy fillets of just-charred market fish for a reasonable $9.80.    Bang Bang gets its seafood delivered from the markets every day. This is why you’ll see a full

New bars keep popping up in the inner city, but a decent, roomy, affordable afterwork venues that caters to broad tastes are in short supply in the CBD. That is why the expansive Verandah Bar in Martin Place getting a complete makeover is such welcome news. You can bring the whole accounts team with you when the venue fits 550 people. New owners and hoteliers Simon Tilley and Nick Wills hired design team Luchetti Krelle (who fitted out Momofuku Seiobo) to reinvent the white collar haunt and the result is a slick, botanical-themed watering hole split into two areas: the main bar (where most of the post-work action is), and an upscale, native ingredient-driven restaurant called Social at Verandah. Gone are the RSL stools and the gift-wrappy colour scheme and in their place is a fresh-faced bar decked out in burnt orange lounges, rattan chairs and draped in greenery. So much that they have one spot called the ‘Hanging Garden’, named for the massive plant installation that looms above — a cloud-like botanical sculpture designed by Melbourne studio Loose Leaf. Over 150 plants, from hanging ferns to potted peace lilies, occupy the space. Drinks at Verandah have a broad appeal. The barmen won’t want to hear about your crush on pet-nats or small batch gin. You can, however, sneak into Social and smuggle back a specialty cocktail made by bar whizz Cameron Pascoe (ex-Felix).  From the main bar’s compact cocktail list, a classic Negroni has the right mix of sweet to bitter, though a bi

Unless you’re in neon-lit Tokyo, rice bowls and grilled fish collar aren’t exactly what you think you’ll be eating when someone says ‘small bar’. Yet at Monkey’s Corner, owned by brothers Arnold and Reynold Poernomo – the latter of MasterChef fame – those words stick with you because they’re also the reasons you can’t get a seat at the bar. Granted, it’s only a 20 seater. Even without the frustratingly popular snacks, your chances of landing a spot in this tight Chippendale corner is still slim. You may end up sitting shoulder to shoulder with punters looking out the window, salaryman style. Who needs eye contact when you’re busy popping a edamame spiked with tangy smoked paprika into your mouth? Get your hands dirty with the fatty grilled kingfish collar, seasoned with house furikake and shichimi, then charred with a blowtorch until its skin crisps to a silver crackling. No, it’s not pretty. But why should it be? These are drinking dishes — what chef and co-owner Arnold refers to as ‘Asian comfort food’.  Arnold has a love of umami-driven cuisine, and fans clamour for the paper-thin slices of ox tongue shallow fried in beef fat and cut with a squeeze of lime; also the springy egg noodles with sweet strands of chilli crab. Our money, however, is on the spicy trout belly. For $14 you get a sweet rice bowl covered in an inch-deep mix of fresh trout, spicy mayo and eschalots. The dish is inspired by Arnold’s travels, during which he saw Japanese sushi chefs make regular guests a

Restaurant years are like dogs years, so venues like this quiet, unassuming French bistro at the well-tailored end of CBD anywhere basically qualifies for long service. For the last eight years, Bistro Papillon’s owners, Xavier Huitorel and Ludovic Geyer, keep things simple – but extravagantly French — with both the menu and decor at this solid 40-seater. On a Friday night, the timber-clad dining room is packed with chatty nine-to-fivers and after-work couples nursing a glass of wine (all $15) in the dim, burnt orange glow. Walls are covered with framed vintage posters, and bottles of liqueur stand ready at the counter, should the waiter’s accent persuade you that a sticky, blackcurrant-spiked kir royale ($24) is a sensible place to start. It’s fair to say that this is not a place for the vegos in your life, unless they’re content with a solitary earthy mushroom and winter vegetable risotto (so retro), or an entree of onion soup, which you will probably steal from them once you’ve tried the seven-hour simmer of caramelised onion to an intensely sweet, smoky broth. Dunk the salty, crisp-edged gruyere croutons For omnivores, an entree of grass-fed Tasmanian beef tartare has the right amount of tang and richness. A rosy disc of handcut fillets come dressed with lemon juice, tabasco, vinegar and housemade mayonnaise. There’s no raw egg yolk or dijon mustard — but the creaminess of the mayo brings out a sweetness in the beef. Mixed with the crunch of shallots and capers, it’s an u

One of the first things you’ll notice about Loluk Bistro is that its patrons are mostly French. Close your eyes in the middle of the whitewashed, Riviera-inspired dining room and it’s easy to forget you’re steps away from Taylor Square. The fact that owner Luc La Joye serves an unmistakably Provençal menu may have something to do with its Gallic clientele. In Sydney, finding a decent Parisian-style bistro isn’t hard (Felix, District Brasserie). But a kitchen that’s dedicated to hearty, regional French cooking? Not so much. For Loluk, we have La Joye’s grandmother to thank. He and his brother and co-owner Loïc grew up in Nice, surrounded by their grandmother’s home-cooking and fresh produce from her garden. Plenty of the restaurant’s Southern French recipes are adapted from her repertoire, including a creme brûlée that uses lavender she regularly mails to La Joye. The Provençal antipasti is a helpful cheat sheet on the region’s flavours in appetiser form. A classic Niçoise street snack of pissaladière hits the right umami note with the sweetness of caramelised onion and a salty baseline of olives and anchovies on flatbread. You can taste Nice’s proximity to Italy in the golden, plump zucchini flower fritters; or the tart, silky ribbons of marinated capsicum piled high against La Joye’s earthy tapenade. Ask for some olive oil to go with any leftover bread — the brothers own an olive grove in Provence where they produce the grassy, first-press oil that’s used in the restaurant.

The first thing you’ll notice at Été is a display wall of dried flowers and produce that looks like it belongs to a farmhouse in deep Provence. Hanging from the wall’s timber frames are dried artichoke hearts, lavender quills and golden Billy Buttons – arranged just so, in shades that signal the start of autumn.Chef Drew Bolton (ex-Vine in Double Bay) takes seasonality seriously in his Barangaroo outfit. The restaurant’s name – French for summer – is a nod to Bolton’s vision for the menu: bright, welcoming and liberated from the buttoned-up sensibility of classical French dining.Opened in December 2017, the waterfront space has the vibe of a relaxed, natural light-drenched brasserie. Chicago-based artist John Zabawa’s work – including a full-wall mural – livens up the predominantly white, blond wood-heavy room.On a buzzy weeknight, suits and stylish, tussled-haired women nurse their aperitifs to an easy-drinking score of Edith Piaf and light jazz. We’re ushered to a shared table, with full view of an open kitchen that’s framed by jars of last season’s pine mushrooms – picked and preserved by Bolton, we’re told, near his Blue Mountains family home.Start with a bone-dry Dominique Portet Fontaine Rosé – a crisp Yarra Valley drop with a savoury palate that makes a good match with an entrée of veal tartare. Bolton modernises bistro classics with playful technical twists. For the tartare, he swaps the egg yolk for a herby, emulsified sauce gribiche, and adds umami with paper-thin s

Think of a night out at a French restaurant, and it’s unlikely you’ll picture yourself surrounded by giant tanks of beer. Yet at Frenchies Bistro and Brewery in Rosebery, that’s exactly the kind of sweet spot that craft beer and charcuterie lovers would find themselves in. On the beer front, co-owner Vincent de Soyres ferments his own brew on-site – producing eight varietals on tap and a jaw-dropping 4,000 litres of beer a week, which he wholesales in kegs and tinnies to bars around Sydney. And we say charcuterie, because chef and co-owner Thomas Cauquil specialises in the art of turning humble cuts of protein into earthy terrines, pâtés and silky rillettes (or “cold pulled pork”, as he calls it). Cauquil trained with Parisian charcuterie master Arnaud Nicolas – a René Redzepi of cured meats – who started a movement called ‘gastronomic charcuterie’, based on the idea that traditionally heavy, fat-laden small goods can be made into something light, modern and elegant. At Frenchies, Cauquil extends his charcuterie skills to seafood and vegetarian dishes on the menu. An entrée of prawn terrine, for instance, is an airy, pale-blond slice of seafood mousse that feels like a bolder French cousin of a Japanese chawanmushi. Chunks of just-cooked prawns add bursts of sweetness and a textural finish. You might fight over the accompanying sea urchin butter – a briny sabayon that ups the ante in richness — but the dish is just as good without it. Veggos are catered for with a colourful m

In Paris, where day drinking is encouraged and a tote bag is incomplete without a fresh baguette sticking out of it, you take the availability of an everyday, local bistro for granted. But here in Sydney, finding a good, mid-week steak frites is much harder work, with French food generally falling into the ‘special occasion’ basket. Potts Point’s Bistro Rex is setting out to change this. Occupying the old Commonwealth Bank site on MacLeay Street, this copper-clad, honeycomb-tiled 120-seater is more ambitious than your average local, but no less neighbourly. Chefs Jo Ward (ex-Bloodwood, Vincent) and Michelle Powell (Folonomo) have taken a solid line-up of bistro classics and given them a lighter, more Mediterranean spin. At Rex, butter and cream-based sauces are often swapped for olive oil and citrusy dressings. You’ll see things like cauliflower rice and plenty of leafy vegetarian sides on the single-page menu — a move that caters to the palate of Inner East regulars, some of whom return as many as five nights a week, we’re told. But old school bistro fans can still get their steak tartare fix accompanied by dark malt crackers or a slice of porcelain smooth chicken liver parfait topped with sweet and sour jelly cubes, instead of the usual sauternes jelly. An entree of pissaladiere will carry you to Nice on a rustic, caramelised onion tart. It’s traditionally made with a pizza dough, but recreated here with a housemade puff pastry. The result is a crisp, buttery ode to the eve

There are two reliable ways to tell someone’s age. First: whether they use their phone as a phone. Second, how much they think alcohol should cost. A person who calls you up and goes on about $10 cocktails in Sydney, for instance, would’ve lived through a good chunk of the Cold War and been huge on the 80s partying scene. That is, unless they have recently been to Gurdys.                                           At this moody bar on the left bank of Newtown, where speakeasy venues like Earl’s Juke Joint reside, you can get a Bloody Mary for a tenner every night of the week. Lest you suspect you’re hallucinating, the boozy tonic will jolt you back to life with a quadruple hit of mustard, horseradish, tabasco and fresh chillies. Served in a vintage highball glass, it’s as pretty as a flapper and more fiery than you’d expect. Like 80 percent of the cocktails here, It’s also vegan — the worcestershire sauce contains no seafood products —something that’s reflected in the bar’s veg-conscious shared menu. Opened in June at the old Buzzbar site, this revamped local is full of rescued timber and gothic curiosities. Brett Davis, who co-owns Gurdys with his wife Clare, graduated from the bar business via big guns like Merivale and Solotel. For their first solo venture the pair sourced everything from light fixtures to steel window frames and wood claddings from nearby demolition yards. Stylist Belinda Cendron (designer of Shady Pines and Baxter Inn) is behind the slightly Dr Jekyll-esq