I’m sitting at the wooden bench right in front of the chefs at Flotilla, Newcastle’s fine diner located in an industrial-looking area in Wickham. I say fine dining because it technically falls under that category, but there’s not a whiff of pretentiousness in the coastal air.
In front of me is a greenish riff on a Margarita recommended by co-owner/restaurant manager Eduardo Molina. It’s fresh thanks to coriander, jalapeno brings heat, and the sweetness is balanced by someone who’s been to a few rodeos. And on this balmy evening, it’s gone in minutes.
To my left is a mural by Newcastle-based artist Annie Everingham – all sky blues, bubble-gum pinks and rusts – and the rest of the walls are painted-white brick and plywood. Trickling plants inject greenery, copper fixtures wink to Newy’s past, and local Andrew Bradley is behind the brown leather banquette seating and warm wooden tables with flickering candles. It’s the kind of dining room you can exhale and settle in for a good time. And judging by the packed and lively room, it seems everyone is.
Head chef Jake Deluca works with a slight smile, the one you have when you’re enjoying yourself or telling yourself a joke. But what’s coming out of this young gun's kitchen is nothing to laugh about. Deluca changes the set menu at Flotilla every six weeks to keep things fresh and interesting. The use of seasonal produce combined with a razor-sharp eye for innovation and elevation is constant, however.
Take the courgette soup, for example. Cooked zucchinis and fresh mint are blended until smooth and creamy. The seasoning is superb, and pickled celery slices down the bottom add a textural contrast and zing. It arrives with a zucchini flower that’s been stuffed with a zucchini and cashew cream and fried in a tempura batter. Finished with a drizzle of honey, pecorino snow and a sprinkle of dehydrated black olives, the flower is crunchy, salty, sweet and umami, and seriously good.
The other starters also impress, like a clever venison tartare piped into a cigar-like crisp wafer and paired with jet-black ketchup with enough acid to cut through the richnesss. Deep-fried pumpkin balls with a dusting of tograshi and a sharp, citrusy sauce is yum, too. I could take or leave the two mussels threaded onto a metal stick with discs of just-pickled carrots, which lack oomph.
Seasonality is again on beautiful display with a tomato number using old fruit. A bowl arrives with an island of slow-roasted tomatoes topped with stracciatella, Parma ham and basil, surrounded by a consommé moat. The deceptively clear liquid is so concentrated and explodes with bright tomato flavour. And paired with the creamy cheese, salty ham and garlicky crunch of breadcrumbs, it’s la dolce vita in a mouthful.
It’s sublime with a glass of Foradori Fontanasanta manzoni bianco from Trentino in Italy. The aromatic and textural skin-contact drop is recommended by Molina who lights up like a full moon when talking about wine. After decades working in the hospitality industry – many of those years in California’s most-regarded restaurants – Molina’s passion and knowledge is unparalleled. And it’s clear he really cares. At one point in the night, I hear him ask a couple about their kids, and another talks to a sole diner about his travels.
Next, blue-eye cod is expertly cooked, with the seared skin evenly golden and the meaty flesh succulent. The fish is served with a white sauce studded with cavatelli pasta, balls of honeydew melon-like pickled cucumber, pops of fish roe, soft leek, and a fistful of fried leek on top. There’s a bit going on, but the flavours work and the fish is still the jewel in the sea. Better yet is a black Angus flank steak, blacked and charred on the outside, blushing pink on the inside, and livened by a bold chimichurri, with blistered peppers and a buttery-soft confit potato on the side.
To finish, a peach Melba dessert with a golden crumb, segments of syrupy peaches, fresh raspberries and paper-thin slices of white nectarine is taken to a new, heavenly level thanks to a quenelle of silky-smooth pistachio ice cream.
As the evening comes to a close, three consecutive groups thank Molina and all the chefs as they head out the door, each one stopping to say what a great night they had, lingering like they don’t want to leave. I don’t blame them.
That’s because time flows blissfully at Flotilla. With refined and inspired dishes served in a fun and relaxed atmosphere, Molina’s larger-than-life personality and intuitive and graceful waitstaff, Flotilla is like a great flame and one you want to come back to time and time again. And now with killer sibling bar Vecina next door, there’s even more reason to do just that.
Time Out Sydney never writes starred reviews from hosted experiences – Time Out covers restaurant and bar bills for reviews so that readers can trust our critique.
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