Aged meats are the final word at this plush dining room with a view.
Let’s start with the Café de Wilyabrup butter. Its aromatic body, deeper and more resonant than the subdued murmur of surrounding diners, is as memorable as the restaurant’s Star Wars-style edifice. The housemade condiment is a fitting tribute to a bone-in striploin aged to hold the weight of char and seasoning delivered by chef Blair Allen’s en pointe kitchen. The aged cuts hanging in the glass-fronted cabinet are the main game here. The idea may be to share, but unless you’re prepared for fighting forks, go large with mains that steal from the wood roast and Amelia Park’s Franco-Asian palate. The sweetness of the estate’s own-label lamb is grounded by a black garlic soubise, while roasted pink snapper firms up beneath burnt butter, seaweed and yuzu kosho that thrums with umami. Lighter appetites might build a mezze from the punchy small plates. Think steak tartare with salted egg yolk, grilled octopus leg or half-shell scallops with sour kohlrabi and XO butter. Wines are textured enough to carry the richness of the menu, and the cellar door itself is a must-see – an oversized entrance to match the grandeur of its vineyard view.
