Aces, Gouger St, Adelaide | SA Weekend restaurant review

Aces has moved on from its humble origins to open a surprising slice of Italia in the heart of Chinatown.

Spaghetti vongole a la Golden Century at Aces restaurant, Gouger St, Adelaide

It’s Friday evening in Chinatown and the heady aroma of soy and garlic hangs in the air as sizzling platters and glistening barbecue meats are plonked on laminate tables.

But get to the corner of Moonta St, stand in the shadow of those elaborate red gates, and you will find the entrance to a very different restaurant.

Push hard on the door and step into a suave, clubby dining room decked out with deep red upholstery, plush carpets and polished timber.

The bar is mixing Negronis to go with a snack of green olives.

Franky and the other Ratpack crooners are schmoozing on the soundtrack.

This convincing slice of Italian/American nostalgia, however, is only one part of the new home for long-time city stalwart Aces.

Head up a dozen or so stairs and the swinging ’60s gives way to an ’80s house party. Sinatra has been replaced by Cyndi (as in Lauper) and the girls are most definitely having fun.

The room is more open and, with its booths and chequerboard linoleum floors, has the feeling of a diner.

Lobster ravioli at Aces restaurant. Picture: supplied

Fish crudo with crushed green tomatoes and olives. Picture: supplied

This time machine of a venue has a backstory that itself spans generations.

The original Aces was opened by Enzo Fantasia three decades ago, in a rundown arcade next to the Central Market.

It operated as a cheap-and-cheerful sports bar and was best known for its generously laden pizzas.

More recently son Andrew became involved, smartened up the interior design and revamped the menu.

Not content with that, last year he took over an old shopfront and office space over two floors in one of Gouger Street’s prime locations and, after extensive modifications, opened the new Aces in March.

For this project, he has brought in highly-rated local chef Tom Tilbury (Gather @ Coriole, Press) as culinary director to work with head chef Kate Ottens in developing a menu that brings a more sophisticated edge to the cucina.

The connection to Aces’ red-sauce heyday is still strong but there is also a nod to the heritage of the surrounding precinct – including lunchtime “yum ciao”, complete with a tick-list for ordering.

Take those gorgeous ravioli, perfectly crimped and swollen with lobster in bechamel, that loll about in a pool of bisque sauce.

Then along comes a dollop of Chinese-style crispy chilli to upset the purists, at least until they taste how it all comes together.

The crudo is classic Italian, and classic Tilbury: skin-on pieces of an oily fish such as bonito tuna or tommy ruff are salt-cured to firm up the flesh, dipped in white vinegar and then arranged over a punchy salsa of crushed green tomatoes, green olives and capers.

Veal carpaccio is accompanied by a glammed-up rendition of tonnato sauce that has poached tuna in the mayonnaise and tiny cubes of raw tuna scattered like buried treasure.

Pastas include classics such as a carbonara and a pork and fennel ragu, but also a “spaghetti vongole” that riffs off the butter/garlic/umami-bomb sauce that Sydney’s legendary restaurant Golden Century made famous with crab-laden noodles. The seafood here is pipis and, while the noodles are elite, the teeny morsels aren’t quite luxe enough to fit the bill.

Crinkly mafalde pasta is served with a strange duck and fig ragu, in which chunks of the braised meat haven’t melded with their tomato base and the sharply acidic pickled fruit is intrusive. Fortunately, it is no longer on the menu.

Parmesan-and-herb crumbed veal cotoletta is slathered with tomato sauce and blobs of melted mozzarella for an up-market parmigiana. Be sure to check the bone for any meaty remnants.

More urbane diners might prefer the rump steak, grilled to picture-perfect medium rare and doused in a butter sauce infused with tarragon and finished with little nibs of unctuous bone marrow.

To finish, a baba sponge is soaked in limoncello and lemon syrup before loading with curd and a drizzle of fruity olive oil. A jug of crème anglaise is poured over and around at the table.

The same menu is served across the two levels of Aces (those poor staff will build some calf muscles) and both have their strengths.

In general, a younger crowd seems to head upstairs, where Renzo Bar stays open late for drinks and tunes. So will it be Sinatra or Cyndi? You hold all the cards.