Icarus Bar | SA Weekend restaurant review

The newest dining and bar addition to Peel St is named after a Greek legend who flew too close to the sun. So are the owners living dangerously, or on a winner?

Stracciatella and zucchini at Icarus Bar in Peel St in the CBD. Picture: Jack Fenby

A winged figure tumbles from the sky, feathers fluttering like confetti in his wake.

Icarus, the tragic boy from Greek legend who flew too close to the sun, a salutary lesson in the dangers of hubris and overreaching.

Choosing this as the name and branding for an ambitious new hospitality venture, then, could be seen as flirting with danger, particularly given the investment involved and the potential pitfalls of the industry.

But owners Sam Stoios and Darren Brown appear to revel in poking the bear. A line drawing of that winged figure is everywhere in their food-focused city wine bar – painted on the wall, printed in the menu, even etched into the glassware.

The interior of Icarus Bar in Peel St in the CBD.

The sophisticated and moody interior of Icarus Bar includes booths, marble and dark wood panels.

Icarus, it turns out, is the nickname bestowed on Stoios by his father due to the number of projects he likes to juggle, a trait that doesn’t look like changing.

An interior fitter by trade, he met Brown through his work and they ended up buying the Prince Albert Hotel, then taking on the Ambassadors Hotel in King William St.

Icarus, however, is a complete change of direction for them. The rustic feel of the old Kaffana Serbian restaurant in Peel St has been transformed into a space that is sophisticated and moody, with soft lights, dark timber panelling and an extravagant amount of gorgeous marble in the deep red of an aged cabernet.

A backlit bar is at the front, facing the street, while a mix of tables and padded booths are spread across another three rooms.

Manager Stefan Paull (ex-West Oak) oversees the day-to-day operation of Icarus, as well as shaking cocktails and helping to curate the wine list.

He liaises closely with chef John Simpson-Clements in a productive cross-pollination of food and drink that has so far produced an oyster-shell gin martini and “Honeyfire” margarita.

Simpson-Clements, an Englishman with a background in larger restaurants and classic French technique, has embraced working with a small team in a kitchen featuring a custom-made wood grill.

Cured ocean trout, ajo blanco at Icarus Bar, Peel St.

His cooking has become less fiddly to suit the wine bar vibe. That starts with house-made flatbreads, heavily charred and with a strong smokiness that is best with an accompaniment, perhaps one of the dips such as babaganoush.

The milky, luscious stracciatella that has settled into hollows formed by gently folded ribbons of young zucchini proves to be an even better match. Fresh mint leaves, chive oil and confit garlic complete a dish full of spring promise and totally at peace with the fresh citrus of a West Aussie riesling.

That wine also holds its own, just, beside pieces of octopus in a potent sauce of spicy melted nduja, with chickpeas, saffron aioli and sprigs of fresh native oregano that have a startling menthol character.

The stracciatella and zucchini dish at Icarus Bar is a hit.

Grilled octopus with nduja at Icarus Bar.

The tentacle has been salted, then poached in a sous-vide bag, before its dance over the flames, leaving the flesh tender but pleasingly springy; blackening of the thinner tips perhaps a little overzealous.

Blue swimmer crabmeat plays a supporting rather than lead role as the topping for a heritage tomato salad in which the smaller cherry flavour bombs easily outpoint the pieces of larger varieties.

Fermented chilli and basil oils mingle together nicely, while a heavy sprinkle of seaweed powder gives everything a umami boost.

During his time in England, Spencer-Clement worked for a business that specialised in wild deer and his deep understanding of this lean meat is evident in the handling of a superb piece of haunch from Hahndorf venison.

Poached in oil imbued with smoke from a piece of charcoal, then briefly grilled, slices of the rare ruby flesh are the edible equivalent of a luxurious silken garment. They sit on a sauce showing the darker side of chocolate with the barest hint of chilli.

Desserts are a bit of an afterthought which, even in this setting, ignores the diners who regard them as the most important part of the meal.

Disaster has clearly befallen the only option, an olive oil ice cream full of icy shards and rapidly turning into an unappealing puddle in the bottom of the bowl. Not quite melted by the sun but you can see where this is going …