These are the best restaurants in Victoria, as reviewed for our annual Restaurant Guide.
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Vue de Monde | Melbourne
Vue de Monde has a knack for reinvention. It may have adhered to high-end dégustation restaurant tropes (impressive, expensive wine list included) since opening early this century, but a series of chef and venue changes means Vue has had its distinct eras. And the latest, with executive chef Hugh Allen in charge and a sensitive renovation under its belt, is a doozy. Under Allen, flavour – deliciousness, if you like – is of equal importance to the flash and dazzle of elevated technique. There’s an exciting high-low rhythm to his 16-ish courses. An earthy combo of lamb sweetbreads, cabbage and fermented koji precedes a masterclass in handling brilliant wagyu, here teamed with diced, luxuriously textured maitake mushrooms. Marron arrives first as glistening tail and then “innards” served in a superb egg custard while wakame joins avocado in a tiny, exquisitely presented tart. Service, and the view, remain high points in what is arguably Vue’s best era yet.
Eating at Attica is almost like culinary stand-up. Few restaurants with this degree of fame, charging this many dollars, could equal Attica’s joke count nor land gags as successfully – or indeed meaningfully – as owner-chef Ben Shewry. Add the remarkable visual appeal of all 11 courses and a meal here’s definitively performance, not dinner. An opening round of native-ingredient-based snacks is called “First Foods”. “Thinking of Australia” is a map of the country made from lightly cured King George whiting; Tasmania shaped in a pile of pepperberry salt, the mainland states and territories each marked by an ingredient indigenous to them. “Saltwater Souva”, a crocodile-meat souvlaki with a sustainable message and a witty conceit is also, with its crocodile XO sauce and Geraldton Wax garnish, an indelibly memorable flavour bomb. Service, wine list, tunes and charcoal-hued décor all make for an assured and personable supporting cast, ensuring the food’s witty performance stays centred in the spotlight.
Every few years there’s an astonished pronouncement about a “bistro revival” even though solid Australian bistros are a decades-long constant and, as Bistra demonstrates, a cause for ongoing celebration. Located in a crisply renovated Carlton shopfront – curtained front door, whitewashed bluestone walls, immaculate linen on the tables – and tended by excellent floor staff in white aprons, this casually chic, double-storeyed diner further deepens its user-friendliness with a menu that alleviates the worry of bad decisions. Chef Alex Nishizawa’s food is not, in the best Aussie bistro fashion, afraid of playfulness; deftly pan-roasted red emperor and vongole, for example, is fragrant with ginger and Chinese cooking wine. But classics are also a strength, be it fluffy spinach and ricotta dumplings; a potato rösti with crème fraîche and smoked trout roe; or a dreamy baked apple with vanilla crème anglaise. The wine list, a sure-footed Old and New World creature, similarly nails the brief. Timeless.
It’s best not to hurry at Brae. A fireside drink in the lounge is a worthy prelude to a three-hour, 15-course deep dive into the here and now of the Otways region. A lavish edible bouquet from Brae’s farm-sized kitchen garden is a window onto the season, licked with lovage oil and bedded in hung yoghurt, while wild venison goes from local pest to perfect match with black garlic and charry celeriac. Dan Hunter’s rural idyll puts the destination into dining but casts the net further with a quiver of superb seafood dishes. Pearlescent Murray cod makes a headline act with rich myrtle butter and golden turnip spheres, but it’s just as easy to be tickled by velvety olive-oil-poached Spencer Gulf prawns on chickpea crisps – just add citrus kosho hollandaise and call it the perfect canapé. If time and budget allow, the six luxe on-site rooms beckon with vinyl collections and cocktail kits.
Central Victoria’s Gallic heart, Chauncy brims with the joie de vivre of the leisurely lunch. Grower Champagne and crisp radishes from the kitchen garden, swiped through a soulful bagna càuda, entreat diners to submit to the diktats of (largely) decision-free enjoyment. Chef Louis Naepels’s salty-sweet triangulation of pickled carrots, honey and goat’s curd immediately wins trust; so, too, the way a buttery, frothy Champagne velouté girdling sautéed scallops segues to the winning farmhouse flourish of lamb in glossy, rosemary-spiked jus with an irresistibly caramelised chard gratin. The handsome dining room nods to the historic Gold Rush-era digs by way of snowy linen and mismatched crockery, while sunshine-warm service sets the tone for easy indulgence. Selecting a bottle from the standout French-forward wine list or whether to take the option of dessert (you’d be a fool to miss the comfort-packing summer berry clafoutis) is as taxing as it gets.
No restaurateur sweats the sightlines like Rinaldo Di Stasio. At his off-Lygon restaurant, the Medici of Melbourne’s Italian scene gives the perfect excuse to dress up for pizza thanks to his gallerist’s eye, delivering a masterclass in light, shade and drama. The same artistic traits render classic beef carpaccio or tissue-thin slices of swordfish crudo, zesty with capers and a tangy whey dressing, into perfect still lifes. The cooking’s beautifully cultivated simplicity rests on the shoulders of excellent produce; those perfectly puffy-crusted pizze are worthy of a Neapolitan fever dream and the carbonara, silken with egg yolk, takes no prisoners with its boldly caramelised nubbles of guanciale. The venue’s idiosyncratic charms extend to cheeky Italian-accented waiters, a tick-a-box menu and a Romanesque walled courtyard with more statues than the Vatican, but rest assured your Martini will be served as Bacchus intended – on a silver tray, with olives on ice.
Out-of-towners seeking to grasp Melbourne’s dining DNA must have Embla on the itinerary. The always-humming, dark-toned wine bar – with its best-in-show service and drinks list spotlighting New and Old World lo-fi craftsmanship – captures the city’s talent for retaining relevance without succumbing to trends or flashy technique. Snacks from chef and co-owner Dave Verheul’s fire-powered kitchen keep wine as the lodestar, be it the addictive chicken-skin crisps seasoned with whipped anchovies, or the now-signature soured cucumbers flavoured with dill and feta. Ditto the larger plates and desserts: hand-rolled fregola tossed with vongole and pork sausage, say, and a sculptural millefeuille flavoured with the umami sweetness of barley koji, black walnuts and fig-leaf cream. Embla does some of its best work at night, with the flickering flames and mood switched to party, but the languidly paced three-course Sunday lunch is perfect for those chasing more serene, yet no less exciting, vibes.
Approaching its 50th birthday, Flower Drum remains as essential as ever, a masterclass in trend-proofing through attention to detail, rightfully revered service and subtle reinvention. The grand and meticulously maintained dining room always delivers a true sense of occasion, with its plush carpets and glinting lacquer details. So, too, the benchmark Peking duck featuring animal illustrations sketched in plum sauce, and the prawn har gow with pleated wrappers that serve as evidence of a benevolent deity. Yet Flower Drum is no museum piece. A (relatively) new bar has added excellent cocktails and bar snacks to the arsenal, while co-owner and chef Anthony Lui punctuates his menus with new classics. Superb spring rolls are filled with saltbush lamb brisket and gravy, while silken barramundi “noodles” are tossed with sausage, shiitakes and tangerine. And the incredible quail-meat-coated Scotch egg, with its brittle-crisp outer crumb, has the power to haunt your dreams. Here’s to another half century.
Gimlet is a place to indulge like everyone’s looking. The tiered room is an amphitheatre of performative consumption, where heroic presentations of beluga caviar, grilled lobster, wagyu sirloin and flambéed crêpes add their own sly wink to the fin de siècle scenes. And yet, Andrew McConnell’s flagship remains a democratic beast at heart. Its permanent buzz owes thanks to a bar menu rocking premium oysters and fries (chase them with the limey kick of the namesake cocktail) and a dining room that makes an occasion of everything, from baked scallops and hollandaise sauce to charry Lyonnaise sausage skewers punched up with guindilla pepper and fried garlic or a precision-cooked strip steak. Even the cheeseburger gets in on the act. Oozing with American cheese and a dill-forward sauce in a fluffy potato bun, it’s exclusive to the post-10pm supper menu on Friday and Saturday – and if it doesn’t make people jealous, nothing will.
In a tiny, tiled-floor shopfront out on Melbourne’s bushy fringe, the two-person team of Zoe Birch (chef) and Lachlan Gardner (floor) servea 10-ish course, daily-changing dégustation as vigilant about the local, seasonal and sustainable as it is focused on creativity, surprise and deliciousness. Birch’s food skips lightly across cuisines – a two-bite spelt crumpet topped with warrigal greens and pesto spiked with almonds and zucchini; a duck-egg chawanmushi flavoured with Mornington Peninsula seaweed and crisp fish skin; a sweet and salty Tropea onion tarte Tatin accompanying flash-grilled wallaby. It’s ably assisted by a concise, approachable wine list that skews local with labels from the neighbouring Yarra Valley but also dabbles in smaller makers from the Old World. At just eight seats, Greasy Zoe’s is a classic of the micro-restaurant genre, deftly mixing intimate, homespun hospitality with precise cooking and a wonderfully calm vibe that’s almost as nourishing as the food itself.
Grill Americano makes dressing for dinner great again. Plush royal blue velvet chairs, white-jacketed waiters, mood lighting and Martinis…there’s a good chance Dickie Greenleaf might walk in at any moment. A full-throated homage to the great dining rooms of New York and Paris, it leads with a triumphant parade of wood-grilled steaks, yet there’s accessible joy in the Italian classics done oh-so-right: beef carpaccio with a squiggle of tuna mayo; impeccable king prawns in a rich, tomato-driven bisque; rugged tubes of rigatoni in a sauce like the love child of carbonara and cacio e pepe. Order the puffy focaccia with green-olive butter as your perfect wingman and prepare to dive into a wine list going steady with Barolo, Barbaresco and the full quiver of Italian excellence. Restaurants that set the dial to unadulterated indulgence are Chris Lucas’s great gift to Melbourne, and Grill Americano is the ace in his pack.
There’s something dreamy about Julie. Housed in a former convent building set on peaceful, leafy farmland next to the Yarra River just spitting distance from the CBD, it exudes a hushed, timeless feel. The dining room, all high ceilings, cream tiles, linen-dressed tables and pink terrazzo, has instant rural Euro appeal as does chef Julieanne Blum’s menu that takes many of its cues from the extensive on-site garden. Three- or five-course set menus might include gloriously crunchy golden radishes teamed with a classically garlicky bagna càuda and house-baked dinner rolls; grilled chicken liver skewers in a rich, precise Marsala sauce; and expertly braised lamb generously flavoured with rosemary and lemon. There’s a light, unpretentious touch here, also apparent on the outside terrace with its dappled light and à la carte menu (olives, oysters, steak frites, risotto Milanese). Both options encourage kicking back with something from the French-accented wine list and relishing being in the dream.
Melbourne’s Hellenic flag is flying extra high thanks to Con Christopoulos and Stavros Konis’s reinvention of the 25-year-old Melbourne Supper Club as a Greek restaurant. Heartfelt flavours embracing the virtues of simplicity bring the rustic spirit of an Athenian diner to the handsome first-floor space overlooking Spring Street. The menu puts a pulse into the classic playbook by way of warm, caper-crowned fava dip starring yellow split peas; velvety swatches of ouzo-cured kingfish drizzled in fruity olive oil; and perfect pull-apart braised lamb with potatoes in a puddle of oregano-spiked cooking juices. And yes, there is baklava. The dining room’s sophistication remains – white linen on tables, smooth monochrome-clad waiters, Parliament House winking through the picture window – while Greek varieties like assyrtiko and xinomavro bring a twist on the excellent wine list. Swing by post-10pm for the supper menu’s trio of soulful, traditional soups, including an avgolemono that’s a cloud-like bowl of comfort.
Swimming against the tide has been the forte of this pan-Asian diner subverting Melbourne’s Little Italy since 2019, and it shows no sign of letting up – even if the hot and sour potato (a deserving cult favourite with its thrilling Chinkiang vinegar backbeat) has gone from maverick to menu fixture. The unexpected lurks within the dark and moody dining room, including the gently experimental Australian producers dotting the always-interesting wine list and renegade flavour hits on parade. Case in point: a charry, spiced ox-tongue crêpe with jammy, charcoal-grilled jalapeño relish and cream cheese that may sound a bit crazy but really works. Lagoon hits its multi-course KPIs all the way to a delicately aromatic, deeply comforting cardamom soy-milk pudding in a puddle of orange syrup. Yet, it’s an equally good idea to slip into the bar for a House Sour, fragrant with osmanthus and lemon, and fried chicken coated in white-pepper togarashi, packing maximum crunch appeal.
The OG of destination dining in Victoria, Lake House continues to shine as a beacon of how to do it right. Impeccable and affable service, a cellar chock-full of storied labels, and the well-upholstered, light-filled room set the scene, but owner and culinary director Alla Wolf- Tasker’s multi-course, à la carte menu is the headliner. The seasonal focus is even sharper now that she has a farm in her arsenal less than 10 minutes away, its produce driving the increasingly vegetable-forward approach in dishes like sublime lemon-thyme gnocchi tossed with pine mushrooms and broad beans glistening with brown butter. Plants hold their own when playing with protein, too, perhaps earthy heirloom beetroot teamed with subtly smoky eel or sweet grilled plums and parsnip elevating dry-aged duck. The farm’s bees might contribute honeycomb to a dessert of fresh figs and fig-leaf ice-cream, while its bakehouse produces the spelt sourdough bread. In short? Still going strong.
Victor Liong’s modern Chinese restaurant is a Melbourne dining treasure. Not only does Lee Ho Fook pack more flavour wallop per square centimetre than most, it does it with intelligence and wit. Who wouldn’t delight in classic prawn toast blinged with sea urchin and a side of salted yolk butter? Or Peking duck, dry-aged and shiny with a sweet-salty maltose glaze, served as a bite-sized snack topped with caviar? Or thrillingly clean-flavoured pickled black fungus glistening with black vinegar and scattered with fresh coriander? The drinks list is similarly interesting; all-Aussie wines (aside from some excellent grower Champagne) and Chinese, Japanese and Indian teas, accompanied by well-versed floor staff to steer your course. Add a two-level space on a classic graffitied laneway, plus a focus on brilliant local seafood (a kingfish head and collar lively with chilli and black beans) and you get a more brilliant example of modern Australian dining right now.
Consider Manzé a Mauritian envoy in an unassuming North Melbourne shopfront. The exercise in soft diplomacy is manifest from the irresistible opening volley of snacks – crunchy potato cakes lifted by a chilli-and-plantain sauce, or pickled sardines with curry-leaf chutney and a fried crêpe – which take their cues from street food and style it up into Creole and South Indian party canapés. A bowerbird vision of cork floors, jarred preserves and palm plants, the welcoming room aims for relaxed over refined, while the insightful list of minimally minded wines offers maximum rewards alongside the spice-happy food of Mauritian chef Nagesh Seethiah. Whether your headline act is the haute island flourish of a charry, sweet-fleshed kingfish head that stands up to a fermented green-chilli paste, or pink-centred lamb rump glazed in warm spices under a lusty blanket of house-made yoghurt sauce, it’s a brilliant fire-driven introduction to a compelling melting pot of a cuisine.
That Minamishima only takes bookings by phone speaks volumes; it’s a restaurant that centres on the artisan. Securing a seat at the oak-topped bar or in the small dark-hued dining room via conversation not website sets a tone that’s further expressed through textural handmade ceramics, a finely tuned drinks list that includes sparkling Japanese chardonnay and wild-ferment sake, and service displaying exacting – but never intrusive – attention to detail. Chef Koichi Minamishima’s omakase is the ultimate expression, though. Arriving over a couple of perfectly paced hours, it’s all about impeccable ingredients, including imported Japanese seafood, subjected to masterful technique. Pristine calamari nigiri might surprise with yuzu kosho, subtle pops of lime juice and charcoal salt, while chopped otoro arrives wrap-style, topped with crunchy green sea grapes. Chawanmushi pulses with the sweet umami perfume of dried Hokkaido scallops and maitake mushrooms, while miso-cured King George whiting displays eye-widening depth of flavour. Expensive? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely.
Eleven years in, and the surprise of O.MY hasn’t aged. The dining room – shadowy, cosseting, its blue-black walls decorated with art and shelves of preserves – is like stepping into another dimension from Beaconsfield’s prosaic main drag. Then, the brothers Bertoncello – Chayse on the floor, in enthusiastic charge of a remarkable small-grower wine list; Blayne in the kitchen, working with ingredients grown on O.MY’s farm – begin their set-course fraternal double act. Elegant Heathcote viognier might be paired with grill-kissed calamari, fermented potatoes and buttermilk; a thrillingly clean, marigold milk punch partnered up with honey sponge and lemon meringue come dessert. Jerusalem artichoke could show up as an assiette – pickled slivers draped over crisp skin and purée, bound by egg yolk – while dry-aged duck may share a plate with char-grilled baby leeks and eye-wateringly good celeriac purée. No, the surprise doesn’t age – and thanks to fresh ideas, unpretentious hospitality and masterful cooking, neither does the delight.
Many may frequent this relaxed, Euro-style wine bar because of its meat-free stance, but there are reasons aplenty – beyond the personal and political – to dine at Patsy’s. The owners’ central Victorian farm supplies most of the excellent produce, for starters, which might emerge from the open kitchen in the form of a brilliant, savoury tarte Tatin that swaps apples for borettana onions, caramelised to a silky, salty-sweet richness with washed-rind cheese and vincotto. Or crisp pastry fingers filled with preserved-lemon-laced mashed potato and accompanied by glistening, tangy green harissa. There are more thrills where that came from: chewy squash flatbreads with creamy goat’s curd; a wonderfully airy pumpkin-and-cheese sformato; cannoli piped with dark chocolate and praline. This combo of sharp cocktails, a strong Oz-Euro wine list and clever takes on historically veg-leaning Mediterranean cuisines means that Patsy’s no-meat thing is as much a pleasing “and also” as it is headline attraction.
Pipis Kiosk includes an actual beachside takeaway kiosk in its toolbox, but once inside the name becomes more vibe than literal. Sure, the minimal fit-out – rattan, sandy colours and large windows framing the shorefront view – says beachy and casual, but the exceptional service and impeccable drinks list populated by talented small producers quickly indicate that Pipis doesn’t rest on its location laurels. The compact, single-page menu is predominantly focused on seafood at the height of its powers. A startling flavour bomb of plump Abrolhos scallops, barbecued then draped in salty, fatty lardo might precede a sublime Japanese omelette topped with swimmer crab and fresh herbs or John Dory perfectly grilled on the bone and cleverly teamed with cauliflower couscous and sweet-sour pickled grapes. The approach extends to dessert, too – perhaps a multi-layered honey cake covered in translucent persimmon slices – further emphasising Pipis’ seamless melding of the laid-back and the precise.
A meal at Provenance provides many opportunities to marvel, not least owner-chef Michael Ryan’s ability to maintain its dynamism into its 15th year in Beechworth. The Japanese influence remains central, including how the 18-ish course kaiseki lands in four sets, a tray at a time, each filled with beautiful ceramics holding mostly single-bite morsels that display restraint, power and a cavalcade of textures. An umami bomb of mushroom tofu – crunchy outside; soft and warm inside – might be joined by a Gilda of miso-pickled daikon and cured swordfish; delightfully chewy dried squid accompanied by Kewpie mayo; and a selection of pickles surrounding fiery, bright and crunchy kimchi. There might also be slivers of subtly smoked pork jowl teamed with buckwheat “congee” or matcha gelato perfectly matched with sweet walnut caramel. The drinks list highlights local winemakers and the bracing digestivi Ryan produces for his own label, Beechworth Bitters. Marvellous.
Cooked oysters not your thing? Serai’s wood-grilled Tassie Pacifics – a heavenly match with luscious smoked coconut fat and the spiced vinegar kick of pinakurat – will challenge the deepest-held prejudice. The take-no-prisoners Pinoy flavour onslaught is a shapeshifting beast at this coolly industrial laneway haunt. Wagyu dumplings arrive in a chill-banishing broth with scrape-it-yourself bone marrow and the sweet citrus cut-through of kalamansi, while a play on sinuglaw finds sticky smoked pork jam adding a worthy new dimension to the kingfish crudo metaverse. The confident next-gen take on Filipino traditions means you’ll likely spend time debating whether sweet, puffy “Spanish” bread with coconut fat and salmon roe is best embraced as savoury or dessert, and you really ought to seize the chance for a Mango Margarita funked up with salty shrimp paste. Anything goes at this charming rule-breaker, where the four-seat counter overlooking the kitchen’s fire show is the best chef’s table in town.
So much upper-end, set-menu dining is more high-wire performance than relaxed meal. Lunch at Tedesca is both, but the “relaxed” bit is always at the forefront, masking the forensic attention to detail that makes it that way. It starts with the single-seating pace; no need to rush through Brigitte Hafner’s meticulously seasonal five courses because no one’s waiting for your table. So, your overture of snacks – perhaps wood-grilled ox tongue with peppery mustard leaf chimichurri or lusciously textured galotyri cheese dusted with dukkha – and the following rightly revered pasta course (maybe with Flinders mussels, or filled with ricotta and squacquerone) can be punctuated by a stroll in the biodynamic gardens. Or down to front-of-house guy James Broadway’s brilliant cellar, a trove of small-maker virtuosity. Select something to drink next before returning to the insouciantly beautiful room with its open kitchen and centrepiece hearth from which your fish, meat and dessert courses may emerge. Languid. Dreamy.
There’s a wave of Melbourne restaurants drawing attention to India’s dazzling regionality, and compact Toddy Shop is right up there. With a street-side location, loud pink-and-green colour scheme, cracking cocktails (consider the saffron-infused Bengali Martini) and Bollywood soundtrack, it delivers good times and brilliant Malayali flavours equally. If the fish nadan is available on the wall-mounted, daily-changing curry menu, don’t hesitate. Chef and co-owner Mischa Tropp’s goat, chicken, prawn or beef curries certainly don’t disappoint, but this traditional Kerala fish dish, with its thrilling three-chilli depth and backbeat of kokum sourness, goes to the heart of the cuisine’s bright, nimble spicing. So, too, does a creamy pineapple pulissery spiked with ground coconut and curry leaves, or the sweet-spicy freshness and turmeric flash of his cabbage thoran. Be prepared, however: Tropp’s all-around excellent cooking may have you booking flights to southern India before you’ve settled the bill.
