SA Weekend restaurant review — Seafire at Glenelg

A seaside steakhouse marinates its signature beef in flavours more commonly associated with ice-cream, writes Simon Wilkinson.

The dining room at Seafire, Marina PIer, Glenelg

I’ve seen some strange food combos in my time but the dry-ageing marinades at new Glenelg steakhouse Seafire really take the biscuit.

Or the “Lotus Biscoff”, to be more accurate. The plain-looking sweet Belgian bickie is one of several beef flavours that sound more suited to a trendy ice-cream parlour.

Five trays of strip-loin are stacked in a fridge at the back of the restaurant. Rogan josh, on top, at least sounds feasible. Then comes red liquorice, beetroot and soy, and the Lotus, decorated with little, plastic-wrapped packets. The meat on the bottom is covered in chocolate and apricots. That’s right. It’s Fru-Choc.

The rest of the glass-doored chiller is filled with all sorts of beefy bling, from hanging Fred-Flintstone-style tomahawks labelled with their weights and scary prices to butcher-shop displays of porterhouses and rib-eyes, as well as less appealing bagged cuts swimming in blood.

Tomahawk steak from Seafire at Glenelg.

Lucky, then, that there is little danger of vegetarians making it this far. Seafire nails its colours to the mast at the entrance, where a life-sized fibreglass bull stands guard. The corner site at the end of the Marina Pier means the dining room and enclosed terraces have views across the big boats at their moorings to one side and the channel through to the lock on the other.

Inside, the restaurant has a classic brasserie feel, with tables dressed in proper cloths and staff in aprons, albeit carrying a sponsor name. Structural pillars are camouflaged in stone cladding and stairs head up to a mezzanine function space.

Seafire isn’t a cheap place to eat. Half a dozen oysters Kilpatrick are $27. Most main courses are priced in the forties, the premium steaks significantly more. It isn’t all red meat. The proximity of the ocean is acknowledged with a smattering of seafood choices, including King George whiting and salmon, a less than inspiring choice as fish of the day.

Five little pucks of grilled scallop are the heroes of a pretty springtime arrangement including quartered cherry tomatoes, micro-herbs and violet blooms. While no provenance is given, the shellfish meat has the springy, sweet character of a well-handled catch and the cooking is on point. Just keep it away from the overwhelming vinegar of pickled onion and a bewildering lemon curd that should have been kept for dessert.

Grilled scallops with lemon curd.

The beetroot carpaccio is another looker, with the veg presented as a mix of shaved slices, deep magenta overlapped at the base, as well as saffron and another with multi-coloured rings like an archery target. A purple puree and a dollop of soft curd help it all slide down, while a scattering of pine nuts add toastiness and texture.

For mains, this reviewing gig dictates putting aside any misgivings and trying signature dishes such as the marinated steaks. After checking with a manager, our young waitress confirms the night’s special flavour is “Nachos with chilli and corn salsa”. She takes the order but returns soon to announce it has sold out.

Beetroot carpaccio.

Any well-hidden relief at dodging this bullet is unfortunately misplaced. The 300g Murray Pure scotch fillet requested as a replacement is a daggy looking cut of meat, its strip of fat torn off at one end, the dull surface branded with black criss-cross grill marks but no crust or shine or joy. It is accompanied by roasted cherry tomatoes on the vine, an onion puree that is beige in every sense and a small pot of “wild mushroom sauce” that has the nasty, processed taste of a heavily reduced packet stock (surely not?) and slippery pieces of fungi that add nothing at all. It’s a front bar plate, at best, but priced at $58.

Herb crusted lamb has more going for it, including vegies that might negate the need for buying sides. Three cylinders of backstrap, blushing pink at the centre, prop up a construction of baby leeks, roasted carrots, purple congo potato and fried sage. A blackberry jus keeps any jammy fruitiness in balance, though a few accompanying blueberries are truly horrid.

Given the adventurous streak of some earlier plates, desserts are admirably straightforward, with classics such as apple and rhubarb, crème brulee and bread and butter pudding. A sticky date hits the right notes, the moist-crumbed cake/pud studded with plenty of the rich, dark dried fruit and a butterscotch sauce so intense it is turning to toffee in places.

Crème brulee? Sticky date? Apple and rhubarb? Sounds like a new range of steak flavours right there.