BALTHAZAR

The once-exalted CBD bolthole has had something of a renaissance

Few restaurants in this town would have a history as storied (or as lengthy) as Balthazar. It's easy to imagine, when it was first opened in the '90s by Nic Trimboli and Daniel Goodsell, how it fast became a hallowed haunt of the city's food-loving business class; well-suited power brokers sitting at white-linen tabletops, slicing into fat, rare steaks and ordering endless bottles of French red. However, after changes in menu, chef, and Perth's general economic wellbeing (a process also known as "the end of the mining boom"), by the mid-to-late 'noughties, the once-esteemed diner had somewhat faded into mediocrity.

Fast forward to 2016 when Emma Ferguson and Dan Morris, the duo behind Northbridge's excellent Southern Italian wino destination No Mafia, took over Balthazar and proceeded to dust the cobwebs from the eaves. I'm speaking metaphorically, of course, but they have given the dining room a modern facelift; think sleek timber furniture, partly tiled floors, and mood lighting – Wolf of Wall Street during the day and romantic midtown Manhattan wine bar at night. As it is now, the venue feels elegant without being stuffy; fancy but not overstated.

After several comings-and-goings, Luke Wakefield currently heads Balthazar's kitchen, and his food could be described as technically European with a focus on Australian ingredients. This is still a restaurant where the traditional entrée/main/dessert formula is king; no share-plates arriving randomly throughout the meal. The plating is clean and attractive, the cooking skilful and the quality ingredients are allowed to shine through relatively uninterrupted. Best of all, the prices won't knock you off your yacht.

We were accompanied on our visit by a foodie pal, and so thought it prudent to order three of the entrée dishes and (despite what I've just said) share between us; all in the name of research, of course. We opted for girello carpaccio ($22), the duck and chicken terrine ($17) and the squid with n'duja ($21), which followed soft house bread ($4pp) and a bowl of warm, fragrant olives ($8). Girello is an Italian term used to denote a particularly choice cut of meat, and the carpaccio we had was cut quite thickly, plated atop a light sauce, and simply dressed with watercress, thin enoki mushrooms and a million tiny capers. The thickness of the carpaccio was not to the liking of our dining companion, but I enjoyed the creaminess of the raw meat; pillow-soft and bursting with fresh flavour. The sauce was a tad understated, but on balance it’s better to be deferential to the beef than risk overpowering the whole dish. Duck and chicken terrine was a generous slab, studded with pistachios and served with leaves, mustard, a dollop of fruity chutney and toasted bread. It was a delicious, well-structured affair; properly dense and meaty and with a smear of the mustard and chutney, unbelievably moreish. Squid and n'duja was artfully plated; a circle of succulent squid meat sat in a pool of jet-black squid ink, haloed by fiery-red romesco and n'duja. All the elements of this plate worked in soft harmony – the fresh, slightly chewy squid melting in the mouth, the romesco and ink providing a rich smoothness through which the spicy n'duja cut beautifully.

“…pool of jet-black squid ink, haloed by fiery-red romesco and n'duja…”

To accompany the entrees we chose a bottle of Zuani 'Sodevo' Ribolla Gialla, a straw-yellow wine with a sherbety palate, and notes of citrus and flint. Coming from the Italian region of Friuli, renowned also for its orange wines, it is a taut, elegant white made from the indigenous Ribolla Gialla grape, which is often at the backbone of Friulian winemaking.

In terms of mains, the list is short but appealing. I opted for kangaroo loin and tail ($38), with puréed sweet potato, leeks and goats curd. Skippy was cooked to perfection; the loin came sliced, revealing a dark, almost-blue centre of exceptionally tender flesh. The tail meat had been pulled and was served encased rather like a croquette, surrounded by a vibrant orange sweet potato purée which betrayed a complex, deep flavour – thyme beautifully drawing out the woody notes of the tuber. The salty, tangy goats curd was an atypical but successful addition. Our foodie accomplice had the duck breast with beetroot, parsnip, radicchio and mandarin ($39); a feast of autumn colours. The breast arrived golden skinned and rosy-pink in the middle; mandarin lifting what was otherwise a rich dish by providing a sourness to cut through the delicate sweetness of the vegetables. Spaghettini with cuttlefish, bottarga, garlic and prawn oil ($30) possessed delicate seafood flavours, combining with garlic’s woody freshness in a dish of softly intricate textures. Chunks of plump cuttlefish were strewn amongst the twirled pasta along with mussels and bottarga.

Whole potatoes roasted in duck fat ($14) to accompany all of this came heaped in a small bowl, but lacked the crispiness usually associated with this sort of cooking technique and were unremarkable.

“…a suitably appropriate finish to a rich meal…”

To complement the richness of the mains we opted for a bottle of volcanique gamay; 100% gamay, full-bodied with succulent dark fruits, backed by acid and minerality that reflect the volcanic soil terroirs of Cotê de Forez.

We reluctantly passed on some interesting dessert options in favour of a selection of three of the five house cheeses ($35). We settled for a soft, French-style cheese made in WA, a pungent Roquefort and a slice of award-winning Hall's Suzette, made by Halls' Family Dairy in Wokalup, near Harvey. The cheeses, which were all of excellent quality, arrived with crispbread and two luscious mounds of honeycomb; a suitably appropriate finish to a rich meal.

Since their time with Balthazar, Trimboli and Goodsell have been involved some of this city's more excellent offerings (such as Il Lido, Bread In Common and Goodsell's Claremont venture Billie H), but the modern renaissance of this once-great restaurant speaks volumes of the tenacity of Ferguson and Morris. In many ways, Balthazar could not be more different to No Mafia; the latter a light-filled, bustling wine bar serving spritzs and delicious small plates; the former a moody, intimate restaurant plating up thoughtfully executed 'serious food'. At No Mafia, you'd feel overdressed in a collar; at Balthazar, you'll wish you'd worn a tie – but the same passion for quality and experience pervades both venues.