SAWeekend restaurant review – Tasting Room at East End Cellars

A popular city wine cellar has brought in a talented chef to take its dining options to the next level, writes Simon Wilkinson.

A good bottle shop is like a good bookshop. The selection on the shelves, and the way it is organised, will tell you something about its curator. And the pleasure to be found in browsing isn’t necessarily diminished by taking nothing home.

East End Cellars might not have the biggest collection – but every bottle has a reason for being there, a story, a particular quality.

And in the informal collection of tables and benches of the adjacent Tasting Room, EEC offers a chance to appreciate the “paso doble” of food and drink in a way that is all its own.

So it isn’t a burgundy or a beaujolais that is the topic of conversation this evening but a quick glimpse through a secret door next to the small kitchen where a lamb carcase is hanging from a hook like a prized outfit in its own closet.

Butchering a whole beast like this takes skill and commitment. It’s an indication of serious intent in any restaurant but for EEC, where toasties and platters were long the staple, it signifies a great leap forward.

Not that these simpler options are going anywhere. The cheese and charcuterie choices remain first rate, as do the toasties that come in combinations such as chilli sopressa, rapini frittata and cheddar.

Selection of plates at The Tasting Room at East End Cellars, Adelaide. Picture Morgan Sette

Some diners, however, were seeking meals of greater substance, not surprising when they might be splashing out on a special release from the cellar, that can then be consumed in situ for an additional across-the-board corkage of $15.

Enter chef Josh Lansley (ex Press), who arrived a year ago and, despite the limitations of an undersized kitchen and Covid’s rollercoaster regulations, has risen to the occasion.

His pared back menu includes plenty of drink-friendly snacks and a strong selection of mid-sized vegie dishes that are fulfilling in their own right but can also work as sides with the tight list of larger plates – one meat, one seafood, one veg.

It’s not all highbrow. Crispy confit potatoes – trimmed into neat, cube-shaped stacks, and sprinkled with celeriac salt – might have their origins in a Parisian bistro. But pulled apart and eaten with fingers, those crunchy edges and tender middles are like a cross between hot chips and a pack of Pringles.

Crumbed croquettes crack open like an egg to release a cheesy white ooze containing jamon and gruyere, a thrifty way to make use some of the leftovers from the platters, no doubt. As you use a finger to wipe up any remnants of the filling, you might wonder about the wizardry used to make them hold together.

Tender young leeks show no evidence of scorching, as described, but are pleasant enough with roasted hazelnuts, a preserved lemon dressing and blobs of a firm, hummus-like chickpea paste that could have been left out.

Leek and hazelnuts at The Tasting Room at East End Cellars, Adelaide. Picture Morgan Sette

The other veg dish also has modifications. Grilled broccolini spears and cavolo nero leaves are both present and correct but the promised “fresh peas” seem to have been subbed out for brussels sprouts, fried all crisp and toasty with a healthy smattering of chilli. It’s not a problem but we could have been forewarned.

The lamb we have seen turns out to be the older – and tastier – hogget. Sourced from the Barossa farm of Georgie Rogers, previously the chef here, the roasted pieces are served on a bed of lush, buttery polenta with a reduction sauce, salsa verde and a few crumbs of fried nduja scattered like meaty dandruff. The tighter grained leg and particularly the fall-apart, gelatinous shoulder are blessed with a next-level flavour, as if a magical seasoning has been developed on their behalf.

It’s not all sunshine and lollypops. A caramelised white chocolate semifreddo is like eating the chilled inners of a Mars Bar – all that sugar needs a counterweight.

More critically, the staff we encounter are perhaps a little too relaxed for our own good. In plenty of other visits to EEC – for a drink or a snack, inside or out – the service has always been tremendous, as crisp as a fresh Clare Valley riesling.

This night the communication is sporadic, the care factor down. It’s an aberration, I’m sure.

Along with its sibling Mother Vine on the other side of the laneway, EEC sets the standard for enjoyable wine experiences, whether you are eating or not. Go for a browse and you might be hooked.