Red Poles | SA Weekend restaurant review

A young chef full of creative ideas is a good match for an art and music hub among the wineries of McLaren Vale.

Dining on the verandah at Red Poles, McLaren Vale.

All hail kohlrabi, the ugly duckling of the brassica world. With a big lump of a bulb at the bottom and a few shabby leaves sprouting from the top, it looks a bit like an oversized potato that has spent too long in the pantry.

Peel away the pale green (or purple) skin, however, and it has the crunch and juiciness of a fresh apple, while the flavour is somewhere between cabbage and mild radish. Raw like this, it adds razzle to salads and slaws, while also making a fine pickle.

But kohlrabi is also brilliant cooked. Take the inspired entree from Connor Bishop, the young chef at Red Poles in McLaren Vale. He carefully cuts the veg into an even dice, boils it in heavily salted water and combines it with slow roasted leek, avocado puree, fresh horseradish and a herb oil. With pretty violet and marigold petals scattered on top, it is full of early-spring levity.

But Red Poles is not really a restaurant, nor is it a cellar door like its neighbours.

While the building does have a heritage in wine, the focus now has shifted more towards the arts.

Over the past 17 years, owner Ros Miller has converted the old barrel room into a lofty gallery and plays host to regular live music and other performances. Tables for dining are spread along a veranda protected by plastic blinds or out in relaxed garden, surrounded by bush. This is no big-budget renovation and the rustic, bohemian personality of the place is part of the appeal.

Davidson plum sorbet, jersey cream mousse at Red Poles, McLaren Vale

Kohlrabi, roasted leek, avocado puree at Red Poles, McLaren Vale

Bishop started as head chef six months ago after a solid grounding at nearby stalwarts including Woodstock and Maxwell. This is his first time running a kitchen and issues such as staff turnover have presented challenges.

Today, it turns out, is the first rendition of a new menu, which goes some way to explaining why there is no bread or side dishes available. Still, I can’t help feeling the chef has made his life harder by trying to include too many ideas all at once.

Not so much in the entrees. The kohlrabi dish is definitely a keeper. The same goes for a pair of lamb skewers, the meat rubbed in a northern-Chinese-style mix of cumin, dried chilli and five spice before grilling and finished with a scattering of pickled shallots, spring onion and yoghurt. The best bit, however, is a dressing based on soy, mirin and palm sugar, an unlikely matchmaking of Asian regions that is a complete success. If only there was a spoon …

Folded semicircles of housemade pasta are filled with a puree of pumpkin that is all intense, toasty sweetness after slow-roasting. These ravioli are tossed in a bright green pea beurre blanc with discs of radish and sugar snap peas that would be better if de-stringed and cooked for a few seconds less.

Braised pork, baby octopus, pickled daikon at Red Poles, McLaren Vale

Paperbark parfait and chocolate sable "sanga" at Red Poles, McLaren Vale

The other main is a strange version of surf-and-turf. Thick slabs of braised pork belly (nice but not remarkable) are accompanied by baby octopuses that, after poaching slowly in a sous-vide bag, smell and taste like shellfish left in the sun. Super-sweet pickled daikon and a light ham and dashi broth complete a dish that needs rethinking.

The chef’s background in patisserie shines in the chocolate sable disc that sandwiches a frozen parfait in which the cream has a subtle tinge of paperbark smoke. A thin layer of caramel adds a touch of sweetness to this very adult ice-cream sandwich.

The other dessert teams the astringent tang of a native davidson plum sorbet alongside a mousse made from jersey cream. They are covered by a heavy avalanche of white chocolate snow, while buried at the bottom are small cubes of fudge. The first two, or maybe three, elements would have done.

Red Poles, then, is a hub of creativity and has a chef full of youthful endeavour. What he needs to remember is that in food, like art and music, sometimes simpler is better.