Aalia’s menu brims with rare flavours and innovative takes on historic dishes. There’s that signature sea urchin draped over fermented aged rice, to be wrapped in a salted sesame leaf and eaten like a dolma. Masgouf-inspired Murray cod, meanwhile, is rich from a week of dry-ageing, smoky from the grill and spiced by a bed of butter-infused chilli paste. Add cocktails blended with ultrasonic waves, Levantine wines and a $350 beluga caviar course to the mix, and you might think the place would fall firmly in fine-diner territory. Yet, a fall-apart lamb neck shawarma and ras-el-hanout-spiced chips feel more like the fare of a next-gen Middle Eastern diner, whereas eggplant and tomato mes ‘a’ aha and rose-petal muhammara with baby okra are more dishes out of a refined home kitchen. Aalia is full of contrast – on the menu and off – but it’s never jarring. Instead, it feels bold and different, exactly how it tastes.
Jason Loucas
