Reviews

	The Age August 2011 WORKING as head chef at Andrew McConnell's flagship Melbourne restaurant Cutler & Co certainly affords Jean-Paul Twomey plenty of exposure to the ideas and techniques at the forefront of Australia's culinary scene. What it doesn't allow him is the opportunity to expose his own food philosophies to the wider dining public: like any head chef working under big-name bosses in kitchens around Australia, the day-to-day is dictated by the quest to present another's perfect vision. Needless to say, when released from their gilded gastronomic cage, their results can be inspiring. To wit, Twomey's Shellpool. In an oil painting of a dish, an iridescent abalone shell forms the artistic tableau upon which rest school prawns, mussels and abalone under a transparent seafood jelly. A forest-green leaf of sea lettuce and fuchsia-pink sheafs of white fungus in beetroot jelly nestle on either side, battling for colour supremacy. It was course two at Water, a themed dinner held at Embrasse late last year as part of the TOYS collective, one of the latest underground culinary ventures to take Melbourne and Sydney by storm. TOYS (Taste of Young Sydney) is a fittingly youthful acronym for a collective that the group's co-founder, Melissa Leong, explains was conceived as a means of showcasing the young hospitality names often existing below the radar of the wider dining public. Conceived by Leong and Morgan McGlone (chef and owner at Sydney's lauded French bistro Flinders Inn) at the end of 2009, the group established its Melbourne arm six months later at the behest of Melbourne chefs Nicolas Poelaert (Embrasse) and Daniel Wilson (Huxtable); two chefs who could not see why their counterparts up north should have all the fun. ''A lot of the people involved in TOYS are the head chefs at landmark restaurants and they're cooking other people's food, so this is a really great opportunity to … present what they can do when it's just them,'' Leong says of the events that bring together chefs, front-of-house, sommeliers and bartenders, inspired as they are to cook, mix and serve to a predetermined theme. ''We give them a brief that's a little bit thought-provoking and allows them to approach the event as an artist, in a way.'' Just as Twomey did, showcasing his not-inconsiderable talent alongside Poelaert, Loam's Aaron Turner and an impressive host of supporting staff (including Donovans' sommelier Sonia Bandera and Attica's assistant sommelier Hannah Green). ''It's about showing the new talent, the new generation,'' Poelaert says. From the free-wheeling dishes to the songs selected by each chef to be played by the evening's DJ as a plate-specific accompaniment, the events aspire to pack a sensory wallop. ''It's also a sharing thing,'' Poelaert enthuses, citing the feeling of creative electricity generated as a result of having so many innovative chefs working the same kitchen for one event without thought to retaining a secretive, competitive edge: be it Attica's Ben Shewry taking Twomey foraging, or McGlone sharing techniques and recipes for his intriguing dessert involving pig's blood and chocolate. Wilson is keen to convey that such cohesion is about much more than simply engendering a feeling of politesse. Instead, he believes it is this new-school trademark approach to food and cooking that is serving to push the boundaries of the restaurant industry. A ''like-mindedness and excitement about the industry'' that fosters development. ''We're still competitive but together,'' he says. ''It's taking it to a new level and trying to all work towards a new style of cuisine: a more modern technical approach, new methods of cookery. Because that's the whole basis of sharing ideas.'' Not that the collective is looking to disconnect from those who have gone before it. Leong says their goal is to absorb the best of the old with the excitement of the new - a perfect blend that will move from theory to action this November as TOYS plays with its theme of ''Old Dogs, New Tricks''. To be held at Cutler and Co, the evening will match TOYS' chefs with their mentors - including Wilson with Andrew Blake and Andrew McConnell with Twomey - to produce a multicourse feast for the senses. For Wilson, the excitement will be in seeing the resulting dish as master and former apprentice conspire to meld their two food philosophies. ''I suggested to Blake maybe doing a modern version of his salmon coulibiac, one of the classic Blake dishes, and he said, 'Hey, that was a modern version,''' says Wilson, before revealing his laughing rejoinder: ''It was 20 years ago.'' A little irreverent but talented - it's the TOYS modus operandi. Inspired food has never been this much fun.
	The Age August 2011 Cutler & Co turns the pick of local produce into a set menu that satisfies from starter to sweets. WHERE AND WHAT Andrew McConnell's flagship restaurant, Cutler & Co, opened two years ago to instant acclaim and predictable crowds. The heat hasn't died down on this new approach to fine dining and it's always a necessity to book ahead but things get more leisurely on Sundays with a set-menu lunch showcasing produce from local suppliers. WHERE TO SIT The expansive former metalwork factory has bar seating at the front of the room facing on to Gertrude Street, with some of the best bar snacks in Melbourne (try the anchovy pastries). The dining room proper has the usual mix of banquette and designer-chair seating. It's divided into two, with a recessed area up a step at the back with real tree ferns that give a rare Jurassic Park feel to proceedings. WHEN TO GO Sunday lunch kicks off at noon and you can also do the lunch thing as an a la carte offering on Friday; dinner is served Tuesday-Sunday. DRINK It would be easy to burn money here on the wine list, which takes in a broad reach of old and new-world wines but there's an acceptable entry level - a $60 bottle of Tasmanian Josef Chromy non-vintage sparkling. EAT One of the great things about Cutler & Co is its lack of pretension and that goes double at Sunday lunch, when the normal a la carte menu is put on hiatus for a kind of 50:50 approach at a set price of $70 a head. Tables are given a bunch of starters to share before diners are asked to individually choose mains and dessert from a short list. On a recent visit, the communal offerings included a Spanish mackerel and mussel escabeche with almond cream; a salad of heirloom carrots with smoky eggplant puree and shanklish; and salami with a whomping chilli and fennel seed kick. Mains included poached chicken with brussels sprouts, bread sauce, smoked bacon and chestnut, while the excellent dry aged Rangers Valley striploin for two, served on the bone with anchovies, garlic and spring onion and a ridiculously buttery wedge of thinly sliced potatoes, costs an additional $50. The Heidi tilsit cheese with pear chutney is a civilised way to end things but the dessert course also included old-fashioned steamed quince and suet pudding with rosemary ice-cream. WHO'S THERE Sunday lunch is a family affair so there will probably be children and possibly even - gasp - babies. But tables aren't so crowded that they'll be sitting in your lap. You might not even notice them. Evenings are populated by artistic-looking people discussing their latest project. WHY BOTHER? Because Sunday lunch is better than Sunday school
	The Australian "Top 50" June 2011 Personnel maketh the restaurant and Andrew McConnell has his pick. There’s a certain momentum that goes with reputation and it means the cream of Melbourne’s staff want to play for your team. The calibre of groovy Cutler’s floorstaff has never been higher: sharp, friendly, professional. The factory-conversion dining space is ageing nicely and we think the food’s at its zenith, although an overly sweet dessert is a bummer. Never mind: the magnificent flavours of McConnell’s down-to-earth entrees – wood-grilled lamb’s tongue, crisp-fried sweetbreads, celeriac and pickles, for example – left us gasping for superlatives. McConnell’s dishes are true originals. Main courses tweak Euro roots in surprising ways, always with flavour at their core, the occasional froth as close to textural nonsense as this kitchen gets. A rare combination of critical and mass acclaim, they’re resetting tables for double sittings… on a Tuesday
	Gourmet Traveller July 2011 SOMMELIER OF THE YEAR NOMINEE Liam O'Brien, Cutler & Co., Melbourne, Vic As the judges who anointed him dux of the 2010 Len Evans Tutorial noted, Liam O'Brien has "an outstanding palate" and "an excellent grasp of world wine styles". But, as his stints at Circa and now at Cutler & Co. have proved, O'Brien is equally talented in communicating a clear, concise, jargon-free wine message on his sharply written lists and by way of his quietly charming presence and words on the floor.
	The Age, Epicure March 2009 Inventive. Love it. Go It used to be easy to dismiss all the fuss about chefs being the new rock stars as complete palaver, until recently I was privileged to witness the first recorded crossover between food-nerd and ghetto-fabulous movements. It happened at the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival, and a the centre of it all was the hero of this piece, Andrew McConnell, who found himself on the receiving end of a kind of Spinal tap homage when a youngish fellow in a blue T-shirt and jeans walked up, tapped two fingers to his heart, have a little salute and said “respect”. To his credit, McConnell had the good sense to look surprised and bemused and rather mortified. Anyway, he’s never been much of a rock star chef – his CV is blissfully free of TV appearances and book deals, bless ‘im – but ironically enought, his latest venture is a venue fit for rock stars and terribly fashionable types and, naturally enough, food types. It is of course, the relocation of Three, One, Two, which grew altogether too big in reputation for its Carlton digs and has taken over an old cutlery factory on the previously unfashionable bit of Gertrude Street that, courtesy of its new tenant, is now poised to become quite the opposite. It’s the bookend to a very busy year for McConnell and his architect wife, Pascale Gomes-McNabb, who less than nine months ago opened the doors to Cumulus Inc, their more informal, all-day city ‘eating house and bar’. Cutler & Co isn’t the yin to Cumulus’ yang. There are plenty of crossover elements, including another achingly expensive fit out from Gomes-McNabb that manages to turn what could have been a cold and echoing cavern into something altogether human and inviting. There’s a piece of pressed metal with filigree trees stamped into it arching over the bar, and envy inducing Thonet chairs, and several different types of lighting including smart pendants and big puffy lights made out of netting that look like glowing jellyfish (hard to describe; they were custom designed by Gomes-McNabb). There’s none of that open kitchen business here. The hard work is kept behind the scenes, with bright, clinical flashes of white and citrus yellow glimpsed through automatic glass doors from the dimly lit dining room. There is also, notably, no table linen, which is unique for a restaurant of this calibre. The waiters too, are just as likely to be type A personalities as your more traditional phlegmatic models. But it’s undeniably still fine dining, just a modern approach to the old warhorse. The food won’t be a surprise to anyone familiar with the McConnell back catalogue, including not only Three, One, Two and Cumulus but Mrs Jones, Circa and Diningroom 211. By which I mean: we knew he could cook. This merely confirms it. He’s never been the kind of chef to go in for the more outré combinations. There’s something about his food that makes it just as suited to those people who tag themselves as foodies as ordinary punters to whom dining out is a special occasion and who lust, not unreasonably, after big flavours and something they can at least vaguely recognise as protein and veg. McConnell’s peculiar talent is that he can satisfy both. The appetisers list kicks off with freshly shucked oysters from Moonlight Flat, purveyors of fine molluscs. Or long chewy pastries wrapped around a single anchovy – Ortiz, naturally. Or pimentios de pardon, the usually mild but potentially fiery Galician green peppers. They anchor a noteworthy menu of small shareables in the bar as well, which is a perfectly good place to sit and spend some quality time exploring the punchy list of wines by the glass. But you’d be missing out on some truly sensational dishes; like the hapuka fillet ($38). Along with practically everything else on Melbourne menus these days, it’s had the sous vide treatment, which really does work a treat with fish, and the almost translucent but firm flesh is brilliantly married to a velvety green sauce dotted with pipis in the shell and mussels. The requisite carb hit comes with a smear of bean puree with a hint of garlic and lemon. It’s a straightforward dish perfectly executed – transcendently clean and restorative. A starter of wood-grilled quail with foie gras parfait ($20) is equally memorable. It’s so simply, really: perfectly cooked quail that’s crisp on the outside, tender and pink inside. The really clever part is wrapping the foie gras in crunchy pastry so that it’s like a cigarette with molten deliciousness spilling from it; there are a couple of quartered segments of figs that have been caramelised on the wood grill. Again, nothing to scare the horses, but a perfectly elegant interplay of colour, flavour and texture. The salad Lyonnaise ($19) is more of a plate of charcuterie with the traditional frisee salad: cubes of smoked tongue, garlic sausage, some crispy pancetta, a long, thin strip of fried pig’s ear and a scattering of confit duck gizzards. The poached egg is a duck yolk that’s been lacquered with a thin, hard shell of bruleed sugar for additional wow factor. Suckling pig ($39) is also cooked sous vide, this time for 12 hours, cooled then cooked with a quick flash in the pan. The result is an unctuous rectangle of pin with a thin top hat of uniform crackle, finished with caramelised sherry vinegar. It’s pure porky heaven. The record should also note that the portion sizes are perfect. Not too small that you start guzzling the Baker D. Chirico bread; not too big that you have to pop the top button of your Comme de Garsons trousers. The desserts, too, wear the stamp of well-judged modishness. A rich chocolate ice cream ‘sandwich’ ($16) sits in a puddle of salted caramel; a messily pretty jumble of meringue, batons of rhubarb, lemon curd and yoghurt sorbet ($16) looks like a landscape after a snowstorm. Fittingly, both are delicious. It’s early days at Cutler and they’re pacing themselves. Judging by how difficult it is to snaffle a booking, the dining room could be filled several times each night, but they’re wisely limiting the numbers to avoid the Bombay nightclub scenario that engulfed Cumulus. This opening was always going to be a bit event; McConnell has enough runs on the board for punters to know it was a safe bet. And it is. Here he’s found the perfect canvas for his not inconsiderable ambition. It’s not a finished product by any means. But even from its inception, Cutler & Co is a triumph – a downright sexy one too. I’m looking forward to going back, when I can get a booking. Until then I’ll keep muttering the same words. Inventive. Confident. Energetic. Love it. Go. Larissa Dubecki.
	The Age December 2009 You can bypass the restaurant and still sample what's great about this place, writes Michael Harden. GERTRUDE Street may have embraced hipsterdom to an embarrassingly enthusiastic degree in the past few years but so far it's managed to maintain credibility despite the potentially destructive forces of cool. Advertisement: Story continues below There are some truly original businesses along the once-seedy strip, which helps, and, for drinkers, a nicely democratic array of establishments offering choices that run the gamut from Bogan Lite through to Sophisticated Fancy Pants. At the SFP end of the spectrum is the bar at Cutler & Co. More than just a holding pen for the restaurant, Cutler & Co.'s bar has forged its own identity in its corner of the former industrial space, complete with a menu of knee-weakeningly good bar snacks, some sharp, restrained cocktails and, with a nod to Gertrude Street's pubby past, Carlton Draught on tap. It's an undeniably sophisticated space but at heart it's a bar keen on giving you a good time. The most comfortable seats in the house are on the cloudy soft-leather banquette that runs along one side of the sculptural, matt-black metal bar with its dramatically angled canopy. Those wanting better sight lines and a view of the moodily lit dining room should grab a wide-seated wooden stool at the bar or around one of the high round tables in the window. Service is spot-on, no matter where you sit. Cutler & Co.'s wine list always makes for interesting reading and a generous by-the-glass offering gives you ample opportunity to visit the New (2009 Felton Road Riesling from New Zealand, $17) and Old (2006 Elio Altare Barbera d'Alba from Italy, $18) Worlds. There's sherry, sake, pastis and cocktails such as Aperol Sour (vodka, Aperol, lemon and vanilla, $18) that are both clever and quaffable. Bar snacks are a must if you are drinking here, particularly the excellent oysters, which are handled with utmost respect ($3.50-$4 each) and the highly addictive steamed pork buns filled with pork belly and accompanied by a rich chilli vinegar ($12). Crisp, salty little anchovy pastries ($9) work as well with beer as they do with an Oxford Scholar gin and tonic. For fans of the grungier Fitzroy of old, Gertrude Street is symptomatic of everything that has gone wrong with the place. Cutler & Co. should have you toasting everything that's gone right.
	Gourmet Traveller May 2009 Looking Sharp Andrew McConnell shows he’s still plugged into the zeitgeist with the opening of his latest venture, Cutler & Co. It’s smart, sexy and seriously good, reports a smitten Michael Harden. The dish that said it all came at the end of the meal. It landed in an elegant glass bowl, looking like a dainty pile of fresh snow – white, clean, refreshing. Apparently a simple, pale granita in charmingly rustic form, it quickly revealed a series of textures and flavours – smooth coconut sorbet, a chilly ginger granita crunch, slippery, subtly aromatic coconut and citrus tapioca pearls, fresh lychee wedges and slight floral hints from shreds of aloe vera – that deftly balanced pared-back simplicitywith touches of luxury and serious aesthetic intent. It perfectly summarised the experience of eating at Cutler & Co. After all the cheers and accolades that swamped Cumulus Inc, Andrew McConnell’s city eating house, when it opened last year, it was difficult to see how this new venture, following hot on its heels, could rise above anticlimax status. Out of the CBD, at the badlands western end of Fitzroy’s Gertrude Street and housed in a large former industrial workshop, Cutler & Co seemed to be setting itself its own challenges. But McConnell and partner Pascale Gomes-McNabb have created a truly exciting restaurant in the old machine factory, a place where the food and the décor are edgy and glamorous but completely accessible. Everything comes with a welcome lack of pretension. Gomes-McNabb has been responsible for the design of all McConnell’s restaurants – diningroom 211 in Fitzroy, Carlton’s Mrs Jones and Three, One, Two, as well as Cumulus Inc – and Cutler & Co is a great advertisement for the benefits of experience. Behind a ruthlessly plain mirrored-glass frontage, the rustic, peeling-paint walls of the structure have been left untouched, giving the large space a rough-hewn warmth that is balanced by clean-lined smoked-glass and mirror surfaces, the stark matte black metal of the large square bar, and the “toilet block” that juts out at the back of the restaurant. Buttery soft pale-grey leather banquettes run along two sides of the parquetry-floored dining area. There’s a raised carpeted section at the back of the room, and a glassed wine storage area to one side. Bare timber tables that tone down the formality without robbing the room of any sophistication. The lighting is dim and moody, coming from black puffy “cloud” lights designed by Gomes-McNabb, and industrialesque clear glass pods with elongated elements that look like hanging candles. It’s an undeniably sexy space and it incorporates clever elements: over the bar, an angular metal canopy perforated with tree shapes casts intricate patterns on the ceiling, which reveal themselves the more you gaze around the room. McConnell’s food comes from the same direction as the décor: his dishes slowly disclose intricate layers and pleasant surprises that may not be apparent at first glance. This is where Cutler & Co’s assured, personable and fairly mature service team are in their element. Enthused but not over-excited, they strike the right balance in introducing the dishes and avoiding the trap of explaining away the magic of every element. If they’re asked, though, the finer points and intricacies of each dish are at their fingertips. Cutler & Co’s kitchen, designed from the ground up by McConnell, has a mallee root-fired charcoal grill that is put to good use. Its primary purpose seems to be servicing the shared 1.2kg dry-aged Angus beef rib eye (imported from Sydney’s Vic’s Meat), but it also proves its worth with an entrée of Yarra Valley quail. There’s something initially straightforward and barbecue-friendly about the quail, slightly smoky from being cooked over coals, but as you fossick through the pretty dish there are other discoveries to be made. Caramelised figs with a thin sugar coating (crunchy from an encounter with a blowtorch). A parsley root purée. Pomegranate seeds and barberries tossed with shredded radicchio and chervil. A pastry “cigar” filled with foie gras parfait. It is a busy dish but never seems crowded because all the ingredients seem so happy sharing a plate. McConnell’s version of salade Lyonnaise is a must. The traditional foundation of bacon and poached egg tossed with frisée lettuce is still recognisable, but it has been studded with all sorts of other morsels that make picking through it a treasure hunt. Fried pancetta and a slow-cooked egg yolk check tradition, but there are also shavings of smoked waygu tongue, a gorgeously rich house-made garlic pork sausage, confit gizzards and thin shreds of crisp potatoes. (The only downside of the dish is that it comes in one of those wide, deep-sided bowls that encourages cutlery to slip down into your food, handles and all.) Grilled leatherjacket (or rock flathead, depending on availability) arrives looking like an abstract landscape. The fish, finished with lemon, is scattered across a plate strewn with flash-fried school prawns tossed in a salad of shredded fennel and cabbage and dressed with wonderfully smooth chardonnay vinegar, honey and pounded thyme leaves. Small dabs of a powerful condiment of shallots stewed in crustacean-infused oil complete the picture, melding superbly with the delicate fish flavour. The single vegetarian main course is a ripper, a truffled pecorino and whipped ricotta tart encased in the shortest of pastries lined with sweet confit onion drizzled with truffled honey. It shares plate with sautéed Jerusalem artichokes and fried zucchini flowers. Those looking for something sweeter than the charms of the snow-like granita will be well pleased with the chocolate ice-cream sandwich. The rich whiskey-tinted ice-cream, more like a frozen chocolate mousse, sits alongside a vanilla parfait sandwiched between chocolate sponge, its edges coated with sweet crumbs made from dehydrated almond and chocolate cake and honeycomb. The Cutler & Co wine list sits comfortably alongside the spotlight-hogging food. A clever and democratic mix of Old and New World labels, it complements rather than competes with the food, favouring small and boutique wines over name and benchmark bottles. It is another instance of the restaurant showing a remarkably high level of balance and maturity behind its fresh face. Far from being an anticlimax after the tsunami of Cumulus-love, Cutler & Co has actually upped McConnell’s own ante. Dazzling with a monochrome pile of ice is just the tip of the creative iceberg. This uniquely handsome room and its talented chef have plenty more excitement in store.
	Gourmet Traveller Restaurant of the Year 2011 And the winners are… The people behind Australia’s favourite restaurants gathered at Flower Drum in Melbourne to toast the winners in Gourmet Traveller’s 2011 Restaurant Awards. “Very nice, thank you” was chef Andrew McConnell’s not quite numerically accurate response when asked for a three-word summation of his feelings about Cutler & Co. being named Australian Restaurant of the Year. Pascale Gomes-McNabb, the restaurant’s designer, was more succinct: “It’s f***ing awesome”. “That’s absolutely frightening,” McConnell said as he accepted the award. “This award is not about me, it’s about Cutler & Co. It’s about an incredible front-man, Adam Cash, a seriously hot sommelier, Sally Humble, and a very talented designer, Pascale Gomes-McNabb. I’d also like to thank my right-hand man, John Paul [Twomey], the head chef of Cutler & Co., who I’ve been fortunate enough to work with for over six years now.” McConnell also thanked his business partners, Frank and Sharon van Haandel, before his words were drowned by applause. It was, safe to say, a decision that went over well with the assembly of Australia’s top cooks, waiters, wine people and bartenders. It probably didn’t hurt that this year’s major winner was named in Melbourne, at that most Melbourne of Melbourne restaurants, Flower Drum. The announcement of the top spot in the nation’s 100 best restaurants was the culmination of six months’ hard slog by GT’s reviewers. It was also the highlight of a very special evening. Though Flower Drum rarely hosts events of this kind, chef Anthony Lui and manager Jason Lui pulled out all the stops to make it a night to remember. The Drum is well staffed at all times, but reinforcements were called in nonetheless, resulting in what almost seemed to be a waiter for every two diners. Spring onion pastries and tempura-like fried garfish fillets made superb canapés (we couldn’t keep Neil Perry away, truth be told), and other highlights were crab-rich Shanghai-style steamed dumplings with red vinegar, and deeply savoury slices of Blackmore full-blood wagyu beef cheek braised with ginger, red date and garlic. Channel Nine’s Leila McKinnon, meanwhile, kept things fresh as host. “I only wish the Logies were this fast-paced,” she said, “and I think you know which awards ceremony has the better food.” Between McKinnon’s jokes and glamour and the photographers staking out the entrance, the Oscars-of-food buzz was greater than ever. On the drinks front, our partners at Signé, the premium drinks division of Pernod Ricard Australia, contributed plenty of élan, from the Perrier-Jouët Champagne apéritifs to the after-party’s Chivas Regal nightcaps. In addition to our sponsors Signé, Ilve, Vittoria Coffee, Qantas and Škoda, we thank the chefs and restaurant people of Australia, not to mention the diners and drinkers, for making this such an interesting business to write and read about. “Vision, team, result,” was Cutler & Co. maître d’ (and Maître d’ of the Year nominee) Adam Cash’s three-word take on their success, but we’d like to run with Sally Humble’s slightly longer offering: “Cheers to you guys.”
	The Australian April 2009 RESTAURANT fads come and go. Some, however, take just a little longer to go than you'd hope. Take the fine "art" of smearing hot plates with edible pastes, for example: the leaving of skid marks on white porcelain, masquerading as edible calligraphy. Yes, we eat with our eyes first, but we all see things differently, don't we? And I see skid marks and think ... well, you already know what I think. We're not sure where this whole thing started, but certainly know when it should have stopped. Andrew McConnell, chef and restaurateur, is not a smearer. He skids not. His food is real. Frippery is not in the bloke's larder. Humour, yes. A casual confidence in masterful produce combinations, without doubt. Original interpretations, sure. But McConnell, anchor and pivotal identity behind this year's winner of the "best house in the worst street" award (sexy Cutler & Co at the unglamorous end of inner-city Gertrude Street, Fitzroy) let the plate-painting thing pass him by. If only there were more like him. Since returning to Melbourne in 2001 after years working abroad (notably Hong Kong and China, not the usual Michelin-esque chef dosshouses of London), and launching a series of increasingly interesting restaurants, McConnell has remained magnetically watchable. A modern chef, but one with sincere culinary roots. He produces surprising yet gimmick-free food in spaces that simply buzz with quirky style. And for that we credit his partner Pascale Gomes-McNabb, architect and style maven. But come day's end, it is McConnell's vision that has made him a chef others want to work with; waiters and sommeliers, too. Is he a restaurateur who still cooks an awful lot? Or a chef with a great feel for the act of dining out? Either way, a new McConnell restaurant - especially this, his first properly funded, blank-canvas venture (an old joinery and onetime cutlery foundry) - is an event to get excited by. Wearing its industrial past on its sleeve, the building's distressed walls and exposed structural elements are juxtaposed against soft carpets and parquetry, fine-but-subtle furniture and the obligatory nightscape of fascinating light fittings (in this case a series of black mesh "clouds" like internally lit, inverted meringues). Cutler redefines smart dining in several ways. For starters, it's a relatively expensive restaurant that doesn't look or feel like one; no linen tablecloths and no real separation between bar and dining room. It plays to the premise that diners are still prepared to spend but don't want to feel guilty about it, don't actually want the traditional trappings of the high end. Second, McConnell, whose skill is putting together a complementary progression of interesting small dishes, has come up with a valid alternative to the episodic entree/main/dessert triptych, and it's neither tapas nor degustation. It's called a "selection of entrees" - the kitchen's choice of an artful procession to precede your chosen main - and it's a smart call. First, maybe, a sublime, Japanesque homage of jellied dashi broth topped with wakame and three fishy heroes: a powerfully minerally Clair de Lune oyster with fresh wasabi; a perfect, small shelled prawn; and a piece of sugar-cured snapper, the lot scattered with edible flowers, radish shavings and just a few pickled, compressed cucumber balls. My goodness. Next, a small tile of slow-cooked pork backstrap - pink and amazingly moist yet with toffee-crunchy skin - topped with shaved abalone, enoki mushroom and a shiso flower (a rather theatrical young waiter makes sure we're abreast of every detail). It's just a mouthful, but pure heaven. Half a plump, spectacularly juicy quail, straight from a wood grill, arrives with grilled fig, small leaves, shredded radicchio and pomegranate seeds, a little quail juice sauce and the obligatory rustic-meets-smart McConnell touch, a brik pastry cigarette of foie gras parfait. The last entree selection is a jumble of slow-roasted, quartered baby golden beets with tannic candied walnut and a luxurious, pure white fromage frais. There is sweetness and acid, and the cool, tart blanket of goat curd is laced with dill oil. Such sublime meat-free dishes. From here, however, you're on your own: five mains plus two steak options that, at $120 and $130 respectively, demand sharing. McConnell masters a look of studied dishevelment with a duck dish that combines pieces of (brilliant) firm, slow-roasted and pan-seared breast and (overly salty) confit thigh. Add fruity flavours (pear and pureed orange mustard fruits), acid (sour cherry) and the earthiness of root vegetables (whole and pureed silken) and house-made appley boudin noir. The liaison between it all? A duck-stock sauce melded with cherry pickling juice, drizzled judiciously. More rustic is a piece of roasted, pepper-crusted Spanish mackerel - a firm, no-nonsense fish - that arrives on a nest of grated fresh and roasted tomato, fennel fritters, jamon and slivers of grapefruit. It's classic McConnell: an unloved fish with an unpredictable support cast to create a really interesting dish. Being a "proper" restaurant means a superior wine offer, both in stock and service. The wine list is wonderful but even better is having the confidence to ask a sommelier to choose glasses without being reamed. Rarely have I felt less vulnerable at the hands of a wine waiter. And while I've heard niggles about general service and portion sizes, they might be put down to teething issues. Dessert simply reinforces the message, maintaining a theme of classic flavour combinations. The pick is "toffee apple": a lump of surprisingly intense confit apple in a gossamer-thin toffee shell with a scrape (not a smear!) of black olive-infused caramel, a dollop of cider jelly and a spiced bread wafer topped with vanillawhipped Richard Thomas fromage blanc, sprinkled with praline. A sandwich of vanilla parfait and chocolate sponge, crumbed with cake and hazelnut praline and served with mousse-like chocolate ice-cream and a salted caramel sauce, is also surprisingly memorable. Like all the food here, it's an expression of its creator and not some kind of foreign idea parading as local innovation. McConnell is a chef with an impressive ability to parlay his ideas beyond the kitchen and into the dining room. His restaurant mirrors his own attitude towards dining: serious, without taking itself so. And he's done that without leaving a single skid-mark. Young chefs, take note.