RESTAURANT + WINE
Suburban newcomer delivers royally
Kingsland Social Cold Comfort
Ihad regrets.
Shortly before midnight, some four hours after I left Kingsland Social, the owner posted a photograph on his Twitter account.
It was titled “cheese” and I knew, with the shallow certainty of a woman eating with her eyes, that I should have gone with my gut.
The baked camembert with raspberries and walnuts had sounded so good. But anyone can bake a cheese, right? I wanted to try the actual baking. The orange “tart” ($10) was warm and cakey. Syrup seeped to the surface. It was a squelchy, mossy, forest floor barefoot in the summer rain. I made small moaning sounds (in my head — I am not an animal) and I would have gone to sleep very happy, had I not checked Twitter.
Phil Clark is a man who knows how to put food on a plate. I follow his social media accounts because they are just so pretty, but I have yet to dine at Phil’s Kitchen, the Kingsland restaurant where he first made his name. A few months ago it became apparent Clark had signed an extra lease across the road. Plans for Kingsland Social were announced with the hashtag #Round2 and, late November, Clark’s second business opened for service.
In Kingsland, restaurants come and go like Australian parliamentarians. I am crossing my fingers this one (in the recently vacated Saigon site) stays the distance.
The food is beautiful. The chairs are comfortable. The space between the tables is such that you don’t have to whisper when you gossip. It’s sunny and airy and I can imagine booking it for a function. They do brunch. Is it the perfect city fringe restaurant? Not yet. However, the vagaries of Christmas publishing deadlines mean you’ll be reading this a month after my visit — time enough, I hope, for a few service kinks to have been straightened.
“Are there any specials?” I asked the waitperson. She looked confused. “Special guests?” she replied. “No.”
We were not off to a terribly good start.
The drinks list was only delivered after we asked. It was tiny — three whites (two misspelt), three reds, three beers and a rose. But it has a temporary look about it (and the bar down the back certainly looks like it has been constructed to deliver more).
One more complaint: For the first 45 minutes or so, the sound system was tuned to commercial
radio, complete with traffic reports and commercial breaks. I work in media and advertising pays my wages, but this was a soundtrack for a sandwich in the car — not a sumptuous pile of eggplant and goat cheese melting into a flaky pastry base ($15).
Every Christmas, my grandmother produces a poached chicken that is so moist and tender that I wonder why we ever bother with roasts. Her gently simmered bird “sets” ever-so-slightly jellied and the meat is ridiculously juicy. Kingsland Social achieves the same effect in a chunky, pressed terrine that I’d cross town for ($15).
That terrine was mysteriously rich and light and there was more of that magic to come. The oily crispy skin on a generous slab of salmon was balanced with a bright, fresh salad. Shrimps added flavour; white quinoa boosted texture ($28).
My lamb rump ($27) arrived in a little copper pan, with a light jus, peas, tender asparagus, hasselback potatoes and a quenelle of romesco sauce. It was the perfect spring roast. I know it’s high summer now but if it’s still on the menu, I can’t recommend it more highly. Skip, on the other hand, a side of cauliflower cheese. It was watery and not cheesy enough. And if you want cheese, well, you know where to look.
Dessert, as mentioned earlier, plus a creme brulee that cracked when it should and came with a little pile of macerated strawberries ($10). Another glass of wine. A cup of tea with my cakey tart (they should really just call it cake). The waitperson reeled off the list. English breakfast. Chamomile. Grey. “Earl Grey?” I clarified. “Yes,” she said. “The Grey Earl.” And honestly, I did feel that we had eaten royally.