SA Weekend restaurant review: Two Pot Screamer on Rundle St

The team behind Joe’s Kiosk may have bitten off a little more than it can chew with its Rundle St Aussie nostalgia/Australian native concept, writes Simon Wilkinson.

A selection of the dishes at Two Pot Screamer on Rundle St.

Peeled prawns are scattered with horseradish, fermented egg yolk, chives and bush tomato dust. A crumbed brick of shredded lamb meat comes with poached stone fruit and nectarines, a chunky bread sauce and herb oil.

Even the “snag in bread” is a grilled sausage of wild boar and venison dotted with plum sauce and roasted pickle. Peaches and cream? Don’t even ask.

Whichever way you look at it, Two Pot Screamer, the latest venture from Penny’s Hospitality (Joe’s Kiosk, West Oak Hotel) has a lot on its plate.

The restaurant/upstairs bar has taken over the East End site most recently occupied by Jock Zonfrillo at a time when even the most hardened operators are tearing out their hair.

And the Two Pot team have made their lives more complicated I reckon, with a dining concept that marries Australian nostalgia and Australian native – a union that, despite the obvious common element, can be akin to asking Clive Palmer and Mark McGowan to play nicely.

On top of that, the chef who originally developed this concept has departed, leaving the kitchen undermanned.

Along with the industry-wide dramas in recruiting and retaining floor staff, it’s no wonder Two Pot Screamer is a little wobbly on its feet.

Buratta, compressed melon, fermented chilli.

And yet … on two visits over the past month, the street-level dining room has the bums-on-seats and enthusiastic burble that signifies a venue doing significant things right.

A space that had multiple makeovers during Zonfrillo’s reign is now decked out in shades of green, brown and beige, colours that play to the bush and retro themes. Tiles on the bar, stylish fluoro light fittings and the heavy earthenware crockery all have links to an earlier era.

For round one, a “Feed Me” selection brings an exceptionally generous graze, even if it includes a few too many things that have come from the deep-fryer.

They include excellent fish fingers of shredded ling, flecked with sea salt and accompanied by a sauce gribiche. The mooshy texture of crocodile popcorn, on the other hand, is further evidence that the reptile’s meat, like its jaws, is best avoided.

Hanger steak with smoked figs.

Smoky Bay oysters are dressed in a jarring combination of bacon jus and native thyme oil, a questionable take on the classic Kilpatrick.

Locally produced burrata, the soft-centred mozzarella, is splodged with a spoonful of fermented chilli relish that does wonderful things with the creamy goodness released when the ball is split open. Batons of compressed melon underneath might be at the wrong party.

The crumbed lamb, like a mega-croquette for two, raises a few questions, not the least of which is the wisdom of including bread sauce when the fried crumb casing is already more than filling. Put all that aside, literally, and the strips of dark meat have so much rich, sheepy flavour you can almost hear it baa.

For dessert, a gloopy patisserie cream is used as the mortar to hold up wedges of poached peach, honeycomb and thin slices of the fresh fruit, easily the high point.

"Snag in bread" with venison and wild boar sausage.

The overall experience isn’t helped by wait staff who leave dirty plates in front of us until the next course arrives. Not once, not twice …

The second visit is shorter and the service somewhat sharper. Moving straight to mains, we share crisp-skinned fillets of Murray cod, matched with a native double act of vivid green warrigal salsa and a beurre blanc “seasoned” with fine dots of saltbush leaves. A charred wedge of cabbage to the side could be warmer.

The final plate is the best. Slices of hangar steak – one of the cuts that butchers are said to reserve for themselves – are grilled just less than medium and show that terrific savoury beef flavour and tenderness can coexist. The meat is accompanied by smoked fig halves, fig caramel and a well balanced jus. That’s it.

That’s the way forward for Two Pot Screamer, I think. Good produce, simple concept, nothing convoluted. Keep on the straight and narrow.