So I dropped by The Old Fitzroy, that eccentric boozer in Woolloomooloo, a month or so ago. It was my first visit since the mid-noughties when a whole era came to an end on the day they took the (then) very hip laksa off the menu.
When Sydney’s miserable winter chills the meadows of your mind, and her icy fingers squeeze you where it hurts, a cosy neighbourhood bistro is a saviour.
Authenticity? Hmm. A precious but rare quality in humans. It’s certainly essential in wine. But is it necessary in food? I used to think so.
A dignified white-jacketed waiter stands in the lobby of Buon Ricordo, waiting to take your coat. “Buona Sera signore.”
Guy Griffin checks out Fix Wine, formerly Fix St James, on Elizabeth Street in the Sydney CBD.
Lankan Filling Station is a contemporary take on Sri Lankan dining, which has been fragrantly plonked under the noses of the good folk of East Sydney.
Lot. One was an early émigré from the city’s open-cut quarry nightmare, landing up in the moneyed, elegantly residential Rockwall Crescent.
ételek is a pop-up on cosy Roslyn Street, Kings Cross, that is unpretentious and the menu borders on fascinating.
Whenever you’re talking Mexican dining in this city, Mexican is usually placed in quotation marks.
It’s been a long while since I last visited Hartsyard and the word around town is that Llewellyn and Hart have recently made some seismic changes.