SA Weekend restaurant review – Verandah at the Strathmore Hotel

A city watering hole has undergone a spectacular renovation and rethinking that would startle some of its old clientele, writes Simon Wilkinson.

Verandah at the Strathmore Hotel, Adelaide.

Back in the glory days of print media, when Adelaide was a two-paper town, the journos from afternoon tabloid The News would knock off from their shifts, amble down North Tce and settle in at The Strathmore Hotel.

Such was their loyal and lucrative custom, their favourite space was even named The Scribes Bar.

Food was never a high priority for these reprobates so imagine the colourful language and eye rolling if they saw the menu upstairs now. Baked tofu. Soy labneh. Oyster emulsion. And that’s just the entrees.

Yes, the Strath has been through many changes since it first opened as The Terminus across the road from the railway station in 1855, more recently keeping pace as a casino, convention centre and oval brought different customers to the area.

However, the latest renovation and rethinking, completed almost a year ago, is arguably the most significant.

Layers of paint and plaster have been stripped to reveal brick walls and steel girders.

A section of floor has been jackhammered to create a void and connect the two public levels. Kitchens have been opened up. Dark and dingy has been replaced with light and bright. As my dubious mate was forced to agree, the Strath is no longer “scungy”.

Pork cutlet at from the Strathmore Hotel, Adelaide. Picture Supplied

That said, the ground level is still a pub, with footy on the big screen, happy-hour prices and the usual schnitzel selection, as well as wood-oven pizzas and a few more elaborate options.

The first-floor Verandah is a step up in more ways than one, as becomes obvious as soon as you set foot on the plush new carpets and pass an imposing display cabinet of elite Penfolds labels. This space opens out to the balcony, now fitted with a retractable roof and bi-fold windows that can be opened on warmer days to soak up action from the street below.

Along with the void, it ensures this will never be a dining space where you feel the need to speak quietly. Indeed, as the night progresses and the room fills, everyone appears in good spirits, especially when the smoking, superheated stone grills are delivered to the table next to us and a waft of scorching crustacean drifts over.

A longstanding signature of the venue, this cook-at-the-table option has survived the changes, along with a pair of straightforward steaks.

The rest of the Verandah menu still shows the influence of Simon Bryant, a consultant on the project in its early days and a mentor to the current chef, Josh Cooper. Look for plenty of plant-based and locally grown foods, though writing “South Australian” every so often isn’t really championing our producers.

Mulloway and pipis from the Strathmore Hotel.

Aside from the oysters, three of the five entrees are not only vego but vegan-friendly. Hence the soy labneh (thickened yoghurt made from soy, as opposed to flavoured with soy sauce) that comes with a weird combination of dried-out falafel mix loaded into little canoes of undercooked banana capsicum on a beige-coloured puree of burnt eschalot.

Back to the drawing board for that one.

A baked block of silken tofu, spread with a punchy salsa of ginger and shallot and sprinkled with fried onions, is heading in the right direction, though I reckon it would benefit from the addition of a broth of some kind.

Plump young winter mussels are lightly smoked and loaded on to thick toast fingers with an oyster emulsion, rings of pickled shallots and fresh parsley. It’s messy but magnificent eating. Mulloway fillets and their pipi companions show a great capacity for sourcing and handling seafood. Both are at their sparkling best tossed about with wilted leaves of cavolo nero, fried lardons and a shallow puddle of cream-based sauce.

An expertly grilled pork cutlet comes with a disc of sweet potato, fried brussels sprouts, bacon and pepitas. Duck breast is sliced to reveal flesh that has the even, pink colour of a fine leg of ham, suggesting it has been poached before frying the skin, and is matched with roasted cubes of swede, pickled turnips and pearl barley. It all has a good feel for the season, a marginally heavy hand with salt the only quibble.

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for desserts. A sticky fig pudding is neither sticky nor figgy, a failing all the butterscotch ice-cream in the world can’t fix. Vanilla and hay semifreddo with a smashed-up lemon-thyme shortbread and blobs of blackberry puree is a strange muddle of different forms of bland.

That’s right, hay. Horse fodder. Can you imagine the headlines those old journos would have written about that?