Larissa Dubecki

September 2023: Melbourne’s dining scene is full of movers and shakers this year, while certain time-honoured institutions are still commanding reign over the city. Whether you’re looking for an experience that’s old and trusty or new and exciting, the following list covers the most impressive restaurants to turn our heads in recent months – from full-blown fine diners to region-focused trattorias, bistros and neighbourhood gems. Check it out. The continually evolving and expanding dining scene in Melbourne is both a blessing and a curse: how do you choose between so many incredible restaurants? Well, that's where we come in. Stop endlessly scrolling, and commit to making your way through Time Out’s list of the best restaurants in the state right now. Our always-hungry local experts and editors have curated 2023's most delicious and divine, innovative and imaginative, comforting and familiar, memorable and magical dining experiences right here at your fingertips. From old favourites and culinary institutions such as Attica, Stokehouse and Flower Drum, to emerging standouts and instant icons such as Serai, Gimlet, Amaru and Reine and La Rue, we've got it all covered here.  Get out, and get eating! You have a lot to get through!  Prefer a tipple-focused adventure? These are the best bars in Melbourne. Looking for a knock-out dining experience that won't break the bank. Look no further than our list of Melbourne's best cheap eats.

There's no cuisine that brings the sunshine quite like Spanish. From one-bite tapas wonders to a paella that demands a group of mates packing an appetite, it's a compelling way to travel via your stomach. Not booking a ticket to San Sebastian anytime soon? Fear not: our list of the ten best Spanish spots in Melbourne will have you flying on wings of desire. Looking to eat well without breaking the bank? Check out our list of the best cheap eats in Melbourne. In need of a sweet treat to finish off your meal? Check out the best ice cream in Melbourne. 

We might be 16,760 kilometres from Paris, but geography cannot dampen Melbourne's love affair with la belle France. The city's leading French restaurants are a first-class ticket to the Old World — with just a little help from steak frites, crème brulée and all their delicious handmaidens.  For more food guidance, peruse our round-up of Melbourne's best restaurants – or take a trip down south to the best Italian restaurants.

What is it with corporate cafes in the CBD and high-calorie focaccias the size of your face that somehow still taste like nothing? To love your lunchtimes again, let's liven it up a bit. Whether you’re watching your waistline or simply searching for a light and fresh meal that won’t plonk you into an afternoon slump, this is the list to bookmark. Looking for something lighter on the wallet? Check out the 20 best lunches in the CBD for less than $15. 

Make no mistake: the fine dining gods have been smiling on Melbourne this year. We’ve had plenty of reasons to dress up for dinner and treat ourselves to something special, at just the time a bit of indulgence was needed most. But on this turn around the sun, the gods have a few tricks up their sleeves. The very notion of “fine dining” has slipped its moorings, resulting in a very different beast to the classical notions of starched white linen, stiff formality and best manners. Sure, you can still go full glam at Grill Americano or Gimlet, two CBD newcomers where the excellent crowd-watching is all part of the fun and the menus, fit-out and sheer attitude will whisk you to yesteryear Paris and New York. Chris Lucas’ glamazon Society fits the bill, too. Perhaps the top hat or tiara will be a little OTT, but they’re all places begging you to dress to impress. But beyond those age-old certainties of caviar, Champagne and Instagram, we have Ben Shewry’s Attica remaining the benchmark for envelope-pushing food interrogating the very notion of “Australian” cuisine. There’s also the long-awaited arrival of Nomad, which has deformalised the dinner but kept up the flame-grilled excellence and produce-driven perfection. In the red corner, the hallowed beauty of Warabi showcases the meticulous Japanese art of omakase. And what would people a century ago have made of a place called Enter Via Laundry, where the barrier between chef and guests is whittled down to a mere nub? So what is fi

All hail the cheap eat. The stuff of life, the stuff of deliciousness, the saviour of students and the lifeblood of the city. Given the current state of play – geo-political turmoil, severe weather events, supply chain issues, rents, staff – hell, even the price of lettuce is out to get us – it’s a near miracle that we can eat well for the amount of money found down the back of the average couch. So what makes a cheap eat? There’s no real prescription here. We don’t require an entrée- main double-header or anything as strict as that, although the phrase “would you like to upsize your fries?” is cause for immediate disqualification. All we’re looking for is a place where you can eat your fill for $30 or under. Cheap in the context of excellent eats isn’t a dirty word. As the late Anthony Bourdain proved on his travels, often the best, most exciting food in each city is delivered without bells and whistles, marketing budgets and “concepts”. A place you might walk past without a second glance – or a place you might not even find without local knowledge, a GPS and a whistle – could be the home of astoundingly good food, with a bit of local history thrown in to boot. Our ten cheap eats contenders have little in common except delivering comfort, calories and X-factor. The budget-friendly end of Melbourne’s dining scale includes Penang-worthy char kway teow at cultish Lulu’s, the mackerel dumplings of our dreams at ShanDong MaMa and elegant Euro breakfasts at Florian’s, then stretch

Casual dining is something at which Melbourne has always excelled (sorry but not sorry, Sydney). While some other cities exhibit a gulf between the heady heights of fine dining and the ground floor entry point of a cheap eat, Melbourne’s restaurant landscape stops at all floors. And that’s why Time Out’s shortlist for the Best Casual Diner in 2022 had to sadly leave many beloved restaurants by the wayside in order to anoint the incredible achievements of a hugely disparate group of cuisines: Thi Le’s Laotian triumph Jeow, Khanh Nguyen’s wild Oz- Vietnamese experiment Aru, the New Nordic stylings of Freyja, neo-Filipino Serai and the Chinese Moonhouse, as well as Hardware Club, Osteria Renata and Hope St Radio doing it for the Italians and Victoria by Farmer’s Daughters doing it for the state. So what unites these nine contenders? You could call them all serious diners in casual clothing. They all approach the restaurant dark arts with a steely commitment to excellent food. Yet they pack it with plenty of personality. Call it fun dining if you will. We’re becoming used to hearing soundtracks heavy on the hip hop or whatever the kitchen wants to play (that’s why Shazam has become the most useful app to use at the dining table). Sharing is de rigueur as the ye olde notion of individual dishes gets jettisoned for a democratic free-for-all (although please, we don’t need the “concept” explained anymore). As for snowy white linen, who needs it? If you’re lucky you’ll be a regular w

Melbourne is a better place after Ross Magnaye saw a Filipino-sized hole in its eating culture. Sure, there were casual Pinoy eating places in the `burbs, mostly catering to a grateful audience of expats. But as for a bigger format restaurant playing with its cultural traditions and taking them to a wider audience… no dice. “When I was younger and started cooking fine dining, I thought, ‘I wish I could put my ownculture into it,’” says the former Rice Paper Sister chef who opened Serai with chef partnersShane Stafford and Ben Waterslate last year to instant acclaim. “As my career progressed, I got my confidence up that my culture is delicious. It’s all about having that knowledge and knowing that you can spin it in a way you’re proud of.” As my career progressed, I got my confidence up that my culture is delicious Time Out’s Restaurant of the Year (also our Best Casual Dining Venue) is a shot in the arm for the city’s food culture. Riffing on Magnaye’s Filipino heritage without suggesting anything like straightlaced authenticity, the fire-licked food is irreverent, playful and fun while also introducing the non-Filipino Melbournians to a new world of flavour. “I definitely want more people to try Filipino food, but I don't do it just because of that," says Magnaye. "My main aim was just to open a restaurant people enjoy visiting." Mission accomplished. Backed by a pithy, natural-leaning wine list and a whole lot of buzz, the menu is a tour-de-force of things we want to eat. 

Winner: Greasy Zoe's The end of the line is a good place for new beginnings. Close to the Hurstbridge terminus, where suburbia trickles away into the countryside, you’ll find the little restaurant that could. Housing only 15 seats, a vinyl-spinning turntable and a surfeit of talent from chef Zoe Birch and her partner, chef-slash-sommelier-slash-floor manager Lachlan Gardner, Greasy Zoe’s sings in the key of “my way”. What feels like a farmhouse kitchen – all red brick and wood, with food-based artworks adorning the walls and the occasional comically large marrow sitting tableside for decoration – is the hardworking home of a uniquely self-sufficient, two-person operation rolling in harmony with their locality. Mackerel hangs above the grill, slowly curing to be grated over rainbow trout Lake Eildon. The cheese from the Yarra Valley’s Stone and Crow. The dry-aged chicken from Timbarra farm, near Healesville. The charcuterie, including a duck salami with flavour that goes on for weeks, from their own kitchen. The modern smarts of Birch’s menu also includes some ridiculously licentious veg-on-veg snack action, including purple congo potato crisps piped with garlicky skordalia. And any restaurant that sees fit to serve a cheese course of rhubarb-filled housemade croissant covered in a blizzard of aged buffalo cheese is simply OK with us.  A set menu scenario priced at $85 for upwards of eight multi-elemental courses has a Hawke-era concept of value. Just in case you’re wondering

Winner: Oakridge Winery dining is a bit of a thing right now. You only have to look at all the young folk colonising tables at Pt Leo Estate, Tuck’s Ridge and Oakridge to realise that tumbling out of Revolver at 6am is no longer the only thing the average twentysomething aspires to on a weekend. And it can only be a good thing, right? Especially when signs are that winery restaurants are following their demographic cues. Stuffy winery fine dining (you know, with the linen and Escoffier-style sauces) is going the way of the dinosaurs, replaced by food that gently interrogates the wine, food and terroir nexus.   Which brings us to Oakridge in the Yarra Valley. A typical architectural monument to mammon surrounded by sloping hills of vines and an impressive kitchen garden, it’s the home of some spectacular wines (hello, 864 Funder chardonnay) and a buzzing cellar door. But make sure you time your visit for the chance to step inside to the broad-boned dining room where floor-to-ceiling windows afford David Attenborough-worthy views. Inside the kitchen, non-hierarchical cheffing talents Matt Stone and Jo Barrett have spent the past four years honing their location-sensitive craft into something approaching peak deliciousness.  Take the sourdough, made with biodynamic wheat that Barrett mills each day. Her unwavering commitment to superior carbs is repaid in a caramel-crusted loaf served with the gentle tang of buttermilk curds from a small herd of Jersey cows who live nearby. It’s

Winner: The Grossi Family Imagine a Melbourne without the Grossis. Imagine no Grossi Florentino, the fine dining pleasure palace drenched in Old World finery. Imagine no Tuscan heavyweight steaks at the Grill, or bowl of comfort at the Cellar Bar, the very same space where recently arrived immigrant Pietro Grossi had his first drink in 1960. No honouring of aperitivo hour at Ombra. No cocktails and midnight spaghetti and associated good times at Arlechin, or lunchtime pizza-pita pockets at Pezzo, or Venetian cicchetti at Merchant.  But beyond the selfish concerns of our stomachs, let’s get philosophical for a minute. Had Melbourne never welcomed the Grossi name it would be a lesser city all round. The clan is so deeply enmeshed in Melbourne’s restaurant DNA it would be impossible to chart all the people who have passed through their doors professionally and emerged the better for it. It would be equally impossible to gauge where diners would be, not only in our understanding of the perfect agnolotti del plin, but the very notion of Italian-hearted cooking and hospitality.  Through three generations of hard graft, not to mention some damned fine cooking and service, they’ve cemented their place in the city’s dining history. From Pietro, who took the first punt, to his son Guy who took the second, and now the third generation keeping the dream alive (Guy’s son Carlo, working the floor of Florentino with his father’s charm and his own cheek, springs to mind). And that’s not to f

Winner: Thi Le, Anchovy Like the rest of us, Thi Le wasn’t the most promising cook when she first started out. Her childhood excursions into the world of Kan Tong chicken have been consigned to history, but maybe even then the signs were there. One of her most fondly remembered dishes is steak tartare, thanks to her refugee mother’s waste-not, want-not philosophy in using the meat left over from making pho. And unlike all but 0.01 per cent of us, Le became a mighty fine cook. She learned in the kitchens of the greats, including Andrew McConnell, Christine Manfield and Dave Verheul, and shades of all three inform a menu at her Richmond restaurant, owned with partner Jia-Yen Lee. But it’s her own special sauce that makes it realise the giddy potential of modern Asian-Australian food in one exuberant, we’ll-do-it-our-way package. Fusion? No way, Jose. Try Le’s swooningly aromatic Vietnamese-style blood pudding and you wouldn’t dare breathe such heresy. Le and Lee really sum it up best on their website, in their typical no-nonsense way: “Modern Asian. Modern Australian. A little in between.”  By combining South East Asian traditions with classical technique and adding a frisson of untranslatable brilliance, Le’s food says no to boring. Sure, she can do simple – a Bundarra pigs’ head pastry with relish looks unassuming, but you’ll have to resist the urge to order four and call it a meal. Then she’ll hit you with pickled mussels dressed in the funky-fresh crunch of a sambal and fre

There’s something in the air at Gimlet. A sense of anticipation and unadulterated enjoyment; a palpable celebration that the 2020s can deliver something so wonderfully and glitzily 1920s (pre-crash, of course). Walk into the glamorously retooled Art Deco beauty Cavendish House on the corner of Russell and Flinders Lane and you’re whisked to another era, when people dressed for dinner and seafood arrived on silver platters. There are twinkling chandeliers and horseshoe-shaped booths, rippled glass and winking brass – and bless the amphitheatre-like tiered seating for making it easy to spy on the media-influencer-politico-celebutant faces flocking here like moths to a flame. Sigh. Andrew McConnell’s addition to his glittering restaurant portfolio (Cutler and Co, Cumulus Inc, Marion et al) is a full-throated celebration of occasion dining. The soul of a New York steakhouse spliced with the DNA of a Parisian bistro is pure restaurant classicism, with subtle mod-Oz flourishes carbon-dating it to the modern era. So you’re thinking it all sounds wonderful yet achingly expensive? Well, yes, it can be – especially when you factor in a wine list that favours the bravery of interesting small producers, both Old World and New, whose back stories, as told by the crack team of sommeliers, encourage rummaging ever deeper into the pockets. If that dangerous undertow is to be avoided, our advice is simply this: grab a bar table, order the delicious house cocktail (the gin and lime-driven Giml

 Melbourne loves to talk big about its multicultural credentials but until now, there’s been a Philippines-sized gap in the city’s eating CV. We’re totally down with Thai jungle curries, Shanghainese xiao long bao and Malaysian char kway teow, but the Filipino dinuguan, kinilaw and sinuglaw have flown under the popular radar in defiance of Australia’s fifth-largest migrant community.  It’s double the reason to immediately fall in love with a restaurant delivering such a catchy modern hook on Pinoy cuisine you can almost dance to it.  Tucked down a dead-end laneway off Little Bourke, the good-looking room has a series of heavy rust-coloured doors (pro tip: choose the first one) that perplex newcomers but entertain the smug folk already seated inside the latest addition to the canon of Melbourne’s great semi-industrial restaurant spaces.  The entrance/exit scenario is too clever by half, but the rest of the package is just clever.  Opened by ex-Rice Paper Sister chef Ross Magnaye with a couple of chef compadres, Serai’s fire-based cooking riffs on his Filipino heritage without suggesting anything like authenticity.  In this spirit, Serai is aligned with Khanh Nguyen’s Sunda in its confident pan-Asian update: irreverent and exciting, playful and sharp.  The lechon cleaves closest to the original source material. The roasted free-range pig is all crackle and squish, the addition of pineapple into the gently spicy-sweet palapa sauce making it a thing of tropical beauty. But elsewh

August 9 2023 update: Since July, Vue de Monde has been closed for renovations. The fine diner is currently undergoing a $3 million renovation and has not revealed an exact re-opening date. Watch this space for more details. We last attended this venue for a review in August 2019 and some details may have altered since then.  To adopt its new Australian vernacular, Vue de Monde has more history than you can poke a stick at. The turn-of-the-century Carlton restaurant that announced Westmeadows wunderkind Shannon Bennett to the world. Its grand-statement, slightly awkward sophomore period at Normanby Chambers. And the past eight years perched at the top of the Rialto, where this Melbourne fine dining star has taken the mantra of evolution rather than revolution as it journeys from French-leaning neo-classical purist to a restaurant with its own Aussie-accented voice.  With Bennett now splitting his time between Melbourne, Byron Bay and the MasterChef set, how much of that shift can be attributed to the overlord himself and how much is due to various executive chef lieutenants anointed along the way, such as Mark Briggs, Cory Campbell and most recent incumbent Justin James, remains a matter of conjecture. And conjecture we food boffins will. All that garden-variety diners need to know is that this slick black-on-black dining room is in good hands with the new kid on the block. Hugh Allen is 24, a graduate of various Noma incarnations, and a brilliant fit for the Vue of now.  A m

July 4 update: French Saloon is back! After two and a half years of existing as a functions-only venue on Hardware Lane, hospo legend Con Christopolous has reverted the space back into the European bistro and bar Melburnians missed so dearly throughout the lockdown age. Pop into sister wine bar Kirk's and ascend the staircase to see what remains – and what's changed. The below review was written in March 2016. He’s collected almost the full quiver, including but in no way limited to: an Italian (Emilia), a couple of wine bars (Neapoli, City Wine Shop), a rooftop haunt (Siglo), a supper club (the Supper Club), and a European (the European). It was only natural the hospitality industry’s King of Moomba would declare himself dissatisfied and decide to add something French to his happy family. French Saloon, housed above Kirk’s Wine Bar – a Christopoulos production in Melbourne’s 6th arrondissement around Hardware Lane – doesn’t beat diners about the head in some clichéd So-Frenchy-So-Chic kind of way. It’s typically understated, with a curving red timber ceiling, a long zinc bar, a winsome little terrace with umbrella-covered tables. It looks and feels like it could have been serving oysters – natural with a tiny bottle of Tabasco, or punchily flecked in bottarga and horseradish – at the dawn of existentialism. On the negative side there’s also a 20th-century approach to sound baffling, so it can sound like a small revolution is fomenting beneath the lazily twirling fans.  Execu

Having trouble finding Soi 38? Just follow your nose. While the address is equal parts intriguing and perplexing, the heady scent of Thailand – its star anise, galangal, chilli, lime and herbs – will lure you inside the multi-level poured concrete carpark down a laneway off Bourke Street. Don’t go thinking this cheap-eat champion is big on the novelty and low on the substance. The brightly coloured haunt in the middle of the urban jungle can claim to have introduced Melbourne to authentic Bangkok-style boat noodles. Lurking in a pungent, funky soup brothwith a host of add-ons (braised pork or beef, a pork ball and crackling, bean sprouts andcoriander), the springy noodles ballast the sort of one-dish wonder that encompasses theentire food pyramid, big on flavour and even bigger on comfort. Owners Andy Buchan and Top Kijphavee kicked off in 2015 serving just boat noodles and prawn wontons in tom yum soup. But the people have spoken, and they’ve incrementally added more menu items (all hail the duck larb, a spicy, crackle-textured delight) before throwing caution to the wind with a dinner service as well. Boat noodles aren’t on the menu by night, but the Thai barbecue and hotpot provide ampleconsolation, albeit one cloaked in the agony of indecision. Will it be the pork skewers known as moo ping, the fatty meat first marinated in fish and soy sauce and mollified with a post-grill brush with coconut milk, or the swatches of golden calamari with a pungent lime-forward dipping sau

Behold the crab omelette. A cloud-like union of sweet crab meat and an egg scramble hovering somewhere between liquid and solid, it’s a dish of such disarming simplicity it will make you forget how hard it is to get so right.  Served just with black pepper and sea salt, it’s not only exhibit A for the pitch-perfect Cantonese cooking at Benyue Kitchen; it’s a talisman of the baton-passing from Lau’s Family Kitchen. Opened by a group of chefs central to the much-missed St Kilda favourite that closed earlier this year, this is the kind of restaurant phoenix operation we can all get behind. Planting their flag in suburban Aberfeldie has meant a boon for the locals and a study in geography for others who have never had cause to head to this northwestern `hood before.  You’ll want to order the Lau’s favourites. Those lamb spring rolls are here, all shattery shell and grunty, cumin-fragrant filling. The volcanic-looking siu mai is a faithful rendition of dumpling excellence made with Queensland prawns and pork. The salt and pepper squid, a lesson in the beauty of a clean fry.  The word is out that some of Melbourne’s best suburban Canto can be found behind this unassuming brown brick façade. The split-level room and its high-gloss wooden chairs and tables fill quickly. There are multi-generational groups and date nights; it’s a place that ticks a lot of boxes for a lot of people.  Word is also out about the soy poussin, which is served in limited numbers (plus it takes a half hour t

Spoiler alert: you don’t enter via laundry anymore. The success of Helly Raichura’s tiny at-home Box Hill restaurant has precipitated her move to more “serious” Carlton North digs,although the laneway entrance retains the enticing air of mystery (as does finding out theactual address only after booking). But while the location has changed, the brief of one of Melbourne’s most singulardegustations remains the same: to explain and explore the food of her Indian heritage.Not, the record should note, that it’s possible to condense the immense nation’s fiveregions, 29 states and their myriad sub-groupings into anything approaching a single meal,even one packing almost 20 dishes. Hence the lengthy meal changing its focus seasonally. Winter was all about seafood-centricBengal and spring has seen a deep dive into the cuisine of Kashmir, the meat-heavynorthern region. As an added curveball, Raichura’s menu flirts with Australian nativeingredients, bringing the occasional introductions from the waiter about colonialisation andglobalisation into a local context. Sound heavy? The communal table with its “dinner party at a friend’s home” vibes does itsbit to bring the pressure down (although there’s another room for more private dining, ifthat’s your thing) and the offering of a pre-dinner drink loosens up the crowd before theirforced intimacy. Highlights comes thick and fast. The standout is a dish known as matar masala tchot –paperbark-smoked pea puree, desert lime and radish chutney, p

The bad news is the closing of Anchovy, otherwise known as chef Thi Le’s personal exploration of Vietnamese cuisine. The good news is its replacement by the Laos-leaning Jeow, a switch-out that has happened so fast the sign for Anchovy still hangs from the Bridge Road awning. Take it as a signal that Jeow is about evolution not revolution – a step to the right to zero in on flavours that have flitted through Le’s menus for the past seven years. So. Blood sausage out; steamed tapioca pearl dumplings in. A controlled exercise in textural shock, the gummy orbs give way to innards of Jerusalem artichoke, cashews and salted turnip, with the outer wrapping of crisp lettuce leaves adding their own crisp oomph.  You’re likely to find some familiarity here. Fish cakes stuffed with lemongrass. Slivers of fried pigs’ ear with a black vinegar and chilli dipping sauce giving off perfect bar snack vibes. A scampi, split and waved somewhere near a grill so the sweet flesh retains its gelatinous gorgeousness, with a zesty green smoosh of chilli, coriander and lime. You’ll want to get down with the laap, the chilli heat-packing national dish of Laos that Le constructs with the aspirational building blocks of Warialda beef and tripe, or Murray cod and smoked eggplant. Extra points for authenticity if you consume it with a side of the sticky rice (pro tip: do) and eat with your hands. Another palate party comes in the form of the crisp rice salad known as nam khao, with crisp nubbles of ferment

Freyja is the Norse goddess responsible for a smorgasbord of exciting things: love, fertility, battle and – eek – death. Her dance card sounds full, but her list of responsibilities now extends to uniting Danish culinary traditions with Australian ingredients in the heart of the financial district. Tucked inside Collins Street’s heritage listed Olderfleet building, the street visible through a trio of ecclesiastical windows, Freyja is a restaurant immune from any accusations of culinary copying. Under the leadership of Jae Bang, formerly head chef at Norway’s two-Michelin-gonged Re- Naa, Freyja swings from daytime smørrebrød, the traditional Danish open sandwiches we prefer to think of as a full meal on rye, to a dinner menu packing cool Scandi sophistication. Anyone who frequents this part of Collins Street might already have become acquainted with Freyja’s dark and mysterious sibling bar Valhalla, cloistered a level underground, where furthering your Norse myth education comes in the form of ethereally arty cocktails. The drama continues at street level where the OTT gothic architecture, including three impressively ecclesiastical windows looking over Collins Street, dovetails with the moody fit out of timber, metal and raw brick, with bareback tables and modern artwork saving it from the realm of medieval cosplay. There’s no need to worry the new Nordic tag means ingredients being air freighted across the world. Centred around ingredients from Victorian growers and supplie

Google “Osteria Renata” and you’re likely to see an image of the pasta to rule them all: half a lobster extravagantly splayed across a thick tangle of spaghetti. The sort of thing that ruins the sad office lunch of a sandwich eaten el desko, it also proves devastatingly effective in luring entranced diners southside. It’s the perfect foodie thirst trap but you don’t have to get down with any conspicuous crustacean consumption to fall just a little bit in love with this glam osteria. Few places come out of the blocks as convincingly as Renata. Its confident delivery of great Italian food, a likeable wine list with plenty of interest and service defying the city’s staff shortage makes it an immediate go-to. As the “what we did next” instalment from  the crew responsible for South Melbourne’s Park St Pasta & Wine (recently sold to a former staff member), these things are totally unsurprising.   Transplanting Park Street’s pasta focus to Prahran, longtime chef and newly minted co-owner Gus Cadden is clearly a man with an innate understanding of the world’s finest carbohydrate.  That luxe lobster spag, swimming daintily its light-touch bisque sauce, requires 48 hours’ notice to order and a warning not to wear white. But there are more democratic entry points here. Like the quadretti: mushroom and mascarpone-filled pouches graced with the umami punch of porcini powder and coddled in a custard-like parmesan-infused sauce, a few caramelised leeks adding their own buttery interest. It

Going by the omakase craze taking Melbourne and Sydney by storm, there are plenty of diners willing to pay big bucks to witness a chef pursue perfection. Think of it as an ultra-boutique Japanese banquet running headlong into performance art and theatre. Omakase is a showcase of skill and showmanship, although Warabi deformalises the experience with an emphasis on chef-diner interactions. The cross-counter chat proves a welcome pressure valve to those gathered in the serene, timber-lined cocoon lording it above Collins Street – at least before the sake has its chance to do some mood-loosening of its own.  The rules of Warabi engagement are as follows: 12 ringside seats, $245 a head. Like a stage production, it waits for no one: kick-off is 5.30pm and 8pm, with a two-hour sitting time proving long enough to transport you to Tokyo’s glittering Ginza and back.  It’s a 10-course sensory overload of chawanmushi with spanner crab meat and Yarra Valley roe, a subtle hit of wasabi sparking its central nervous system; of precision-sliced sashimi; of supremely buttery black Alaskan cod licked by a jellified combo of eggplants, leek and shiitake with white miso, roasted buckwheat kernels adding their nutty crunch. The high-end ingredients come thick and fast, then an ethereal bowl of dashi made with three types of miso and harbouring a sesame-nutty orb of tofu proves equally heavenly.  There’s plenty more. Three rounds of sushi include an exquisite kombu-marinated piece of King George w

You don’t give your fancy new restaurant a marquee name like Society without raising expectations. Accessorised with a top-end city location at the so-schmancy-it-hurts 80 Collins development, Chris Lucas’ new darling is a bold assertion for the ye olde verities of occasion dining. It’s out for your heart and your wallet. It succeeds mostly on the first count and completely on the second.  You probably know the somewhat tortured backstory here: of Martin Benn, the ex-Sepia chef attached to the passion project who walked no sooner than the first caviar-infused Martini had sallied forth. Unexpectedly promoted to the top job, his lieutenant Luke Headon (whose CV is littered with names like the Fat Duck and London’s Restaurant Story) has turned what could have been a poisoned chalice into a PB.  There’s a chance diners of a certain age will be reminded of Rockpool in its heyday. Society’s looks owe a debt to the eternal design Esperanto that could have been plucked from New York, Paris or Milan – the dark, clubbish, testosterone-drenched good taste of it all, with the addition here of enormous satellite-esque chandeliers popping against the muted room. The menu’s à la carte free-for-all might also raise some connections in the hippocampus. The key dish is the seafood platter, which costs $125 but induces a handy case of amnesia with the arrival of its luxe canapés-for-two arrangement: a crisply buttery two-bite crumpet crowned with uni, taramasalata and caviar; a jewel-like wodge

The bad news for Sydney is that Sepia’s closing. The good news for Melbourne is that Sepia’s Martin Benn and Vicki Wild will be moving south next year to join serial restaurateur Chris Lucas in a new venture. Speculation has been rife for some time that the acclaimed five-star fine diner at the top of the Sydney dining tree would be moving, and possibly changing its focus, with the lease soon to expire on its Sussex Street home.   However, Benn and Wild, who opened their restaurant eight years ago, pulled out a wildcard with the Lucas union, which will see them move to Melbourne ahead of the projected opening in the second half of next year of a venture that has yet to find a name, or a home. “The ball really starts rolling at the end of the year,” says Lucas, founder and owner of The Lucas Group, which operates Melbourne hotspots Chin Chin, Hawker Hall, Baby and Kong and is in the latter stages of opening the ambitious, multi-tiered Japanese restaurant Kisume on Flinders Lane next month. It will also open Chin Chin Sydney in Surry Hills’ 100-year-old Griffiths Teas building in August.  “We’re busily running around looking for the right site. The CBD at this stage is the obvious choice.” The new venture will not simply be Sepia Mark II, although it will be the home of adventurous dining. “One of the things that brought us together is that restaurateurs and chefs are very like minded. I want to keep building amazing restaurants, he wants to keep being creative. Martin, like an

The bad news for Sydney is that Sepia’s closing. The good news for Melbourne is that Sepia’s Martin Benn and Vicki Wild will be moving south next year to join serial restaurateur Chris Lucas in a new venture. Speculation has been rife for some time that the acclaimed five-star fine diner at the top of the Sydney dining tree would be moving, and possibly changing its focus, with the lease soon to expire on its Sussex Street home.   However, Benn and Wild, who opened their restaurant eight years ago, pulled out a wildcard with the Lucas union, which will see them move to Melbourne ahead of the projected opening in the second half of next year of a venture that has yet to find a name, or a home. “The ball really starts rolling at the end of the year,” says Lucas, founder and owner of The Lucas Group, which operates Melbourne hotspots Chin Chin, Hawker Hall, Baby and Kong and is in the latter stages of opening the ambitious, multi-tiered Japanese restaurant Kisume on Flinders Lane next month. It will also open Chin Chin Sydney in Surry Hills’ 100-year-old Griffiths Teas building in August.  “We’re busily running around looking for the right site. The CBD at this stage is the obvious choice.” The new venture will not simply be Sepia Mark II, although it will be the home of adventurous dining. “One of the things that brought us together is that restaurateurs and chefs are very like minded. I want to keep building amazing restaurants, he wants to keep being creative. Martin, like an