Restaurant review: Molly’s is the new Italian hotspot found in The Colley Hotel

A new eatery that’s emerged upstairs on Jetty Rd is making waves for reasons you normally wouldn’t associate with what is effectively pub dining. Our reviewer tells you why.

Molly’s, upstairs at The Colley Hotel in Glenelg, does a great job with it’s pizza, pasta and polpette

Some English words are so much better when translated to a foreign language.

Take meatballs … and polpette. Pretty much the same thing but the former sounds like a cheerless lump of mince, the other is laden with promise.

Now, you might imagine that a diner in a pub at the end of Jetty Rd, Glenelg, would be a meatballs sort of place. Well, you’d be wrong.

The polpette at Molly’s, upstairs in The Colley Hotel, more than live up to the moniker.

A trio of slightly squished spheres, fashioned from pork, beef and breadcrumbs, come to the table in a cast iron skillet straight from the pizza oven.

They are coated in a rich tomato sugo that is bubbling furiously around the edges, while molten mozzarella is spreading from the middle.

The balls themselves are light, luscious and spiked with just enough parmesan and parsley. It’s a long time since I’ve eaten any better.

Polpette aren’t the only Italian standards that the kitchen executes well. The Neapolitan-style pizzas coming from that oven are exceptional, while the spaghetti marinara shows great care in sourcing local seafood not often seen at this level.

Polpette in tomato sugo at Molly's, at the The Colley Hotel at Glenelg.

Spaghetti marinara at Molly's.

While the name Molly’s might sound more Irish than Italian, it has been chosen to reflect the colourful history of this establishment, for many years known as the St Vincent Hotel.

It pays tribute to Molly Meegan, a publican in those days who lived in an apartment now part of the space devoted to the new restaurant and bar.

Or, more accurately, bar and restaurant, based on the comparatively tight dimensions of the dining room.

This is away to the right, framed by a partial opening, where hard flooring gives way to carpet, the far wall is decorated with a checkerboard pattern and historic black and white photos celebrate la dolce vita.

The maximum capacity in this section is about 40, meaning large groups like ours tend to be shunted into a bit of a no-man’s land just outside the entrance.

This doesn’t help with the noise levels on a Friday night when the joint is jumping with a youngish crowd letting off steam ahead of the weekend.

Venue manager Sam Comley, armed with walkie-talkie and earpiece, seems to be juggling the roles of bar overseer and restaurant maître d.

He’s across all the food detail and a deep list of Italian-accented local and imported wines. Other staff are less experienced.

A selection of smaller plates arrives from the open kitchen promptly.

Wiping up the sugo from those polpette requires bread made, like the pizzas, from a slow-ferment sourdough that inflates like a puffer fish when it hits the oven.

The bar and entrance to the restaurant, which is upstairs at the The Colley Hotel.

Pizza is a hit at Molly’s.

Raw ocean trout is treated for 24 hours in a gravlax-style cure of salt and sugar but, while the glossy orange/pink slices look okay, some have a disconcerting fishiness, while a beetroot puree underneath tastes of nothing in particular.

If you are keen on a little fishiness, go with sardine fillets laden with a breadcrumb-based crumble before a quick frizzle.

All the pasta is brought in fresh from elsewhere. Large shells (or conchiglioni) are packed with Italian sausage inners and spicy nduja, then placed like little rowboats in a lake of cheesy bechamel.

The marinara is “bianca”, meaning no red sauce or even fresh tomato, just some good oil, garlic, parsley and chilli to showcase a mix of large prawns, squid pieces, mussels and pipis, all handled well.

Pizza consultant Enrico Sgarbossa has earned his dough (sorry!) in Molly’s kitchen, sharing the secrets to a base that has puffed beautifully at the crust and has just enough resilience.

A topping of chilli-spiked Calabrese salami with honey works surprisingly well.

“Malale al latte” is an ugly/beautiful recipe from northern Italy in which pork is gently braised in milk that caramelises and reduces to a clumpy, curdled consistency.

Molly’s take on it cooks the pork (scotch) separately from a sauce based on almond milk and finishes up smooth and creamy.

With plenty of fried sage leaves, it is an enjoyable imitation.

The goodwill doesn’t extend to desserts, however, that are finished with crinkled scraps of gold leaf.

A tiramisu has a disc of dark chocolate in the middle and a splash of Tia Maria but otherwise is nothing special.

Go on a quieter night, sit in the restaurant section, order pizza or pasta and Molly’s should be “buono”. So much better than “good” isn’t it.