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On a Tuesday night, Poodle Bar & Bistro has all the energy of another restaurant’s Friday night. The people tucked into the caramel-coloured leather banquettes are dressed to kill; the dim light splayed across the dark wooden fittings and sage and cream chequerboard floors and arched windows looking out to Gertrude Street is downright sexy. Bottles pop, martinis are sipped, laughter echoes through the chatter. This place is a vibe.

Poodle is one of those restaurants that tends to be divisive – people either love it or hate it. “It makes me feel old,” said one friend, who isn’t that old. My sister wandered in there without a booking for an impromptu date night a few weeks back, ate “one of the best steaks I’ve had”, and came away raving.

I’ve heard complaints about the consistency of the food from folks whose opinions I trust, while others, just as trustworthy, declare it their favourite spot in town. “It has all the energy of a CBD restaurant without having to go into the city,” a colleague said. Indeed, everyone agrees on that vibe aspect, although some would obviously prefer something less vibey.

Given all these mixed messages, plus a new head chef, I figured it was worth going a few rounds with Poodle myself. What I found was consistently excellent service – even when I was looking my most non-vibey and haggard – and less consistent but occasionally excellent cooking.

Since opening in 2020, Poodle’s kitchen had been led by Josh Fry. But recently, Emma Dawson has been promoted from sous-chef into the lead role. In the February media release announcing Dawson’s promotion, she was said to be inspired by the simplicity of restaurants like St. John in London: “No elaborate garnishes, over-seasoned sauces or surplus of ingredients required.”

This is not how I’d describe the cooking at Poodle. In fact, some of its greatest hits are its most over-the-top fripperies. A profiterole ($11) comes bursting with spanner crab and creamy cod roe, a ridiculous smoosh of salty, fishy, gooey indulgence. Fried peppers ($24) are all over the place, getting a tonne of acid from pickled green tomatoes and a hit of nutty creaminess from a sesame paste underneath. It makes no sense, but it works fabulously. A 250-gram beef scotch fillet ($51) gets not only pepper sauce and a shower of potato straws, but also a generous layer of Roquefort, giving the steak a thwack of funk that I adored, but I can see the steak purist wishing for a little more restraint.

And there are dishes that could definitely use a modicum of restraint – the sweetness and purity of raw scallops ($10 each) was overwhelmed by its accompaniment of white miso and caviar. The addition of horseradish to the baked oysters a la Poodle ($7 each) – basically a riff on Rockefeller – made for an oddly bitter bite.

It’s a relief, honestly, in this world of wonky service, to come across a place that is so on-point.

Simplicity, when it is deployed, is stunningly successful. Duck hearts ($10) are wrapped in guanciale, skewered, and grilled to a bouncy, bloody crisp, the fat of the pig coating the hearts for a deeply satisfying snack. Baked camembert ($28) is layered with leatherwood honey then heated to a pleasing goo, and served with sweet nubs of Jerusalem artichokes and crostini – the game is to turn the cheese into a fondue, and it’s a game I’d play any day.

The fish of the day recently has been hapuka ($45), served with bitter greens in a pool of butter shot through with leek chimichurri. This is the type of thing I think Dawson envisioned when she evoked the cooking of St. John – decadent but somehow pure, full of flavour without trying too hard. When she hits that stride exactly right, it’s a thing to behold.

About that service: This place gets absolutely rammed, and there are times when servers are stretched to their maximum. But managers and hosts jump in, and you can tell this place operates as a true team. Everyone is knowledgeable; everyone is charming. It’s a relief, honestly, in this world of wonky service, to come across a place that is so on-point.

So, listen, Poodle might not be for you. Which is OK. All restaurants are not for all people. But it’s fun, and exuberant, and unapologetic about its exuberance. Dawson is an exciting young chef, and I’m looking forward to what she’s got up her sleeve in years to come. And if you’re searching for a place to deliver those sweet Friday night vibes on a Tuesday, this is your place.