Not much, it seems, has changed here since its 1988 opening, and the suits, scions and stalwarts who frequent Machiavelli wouldn't have it any other way. Despite the patrician demographic and the portraits of pollies and powerbrokers on the walls, this downtown institution feels familiar and homely. Legendary chef and restaurateur Giovanna Toppi, now in her 70s, still supervises activity at the pass, and calamari fritti, vitello saltimbocca and steak diane are never off the menu. Start with fat, juicy, prosciutto-wrapped scallops, fried until crusty and dribbled with syrupy balsamico. Move on to the signature steak tartare, or perhaps grilled john dory plated with the mandatory in-house tricolore of creamed spinach, potatoes dauphinoise and steamed carrots. Slabs of mango soused in Galliano are refreshing, but wait did somebody say 'gueridon'? The unmistakable sound of yolks, sugar and marsala being whipped into a zabaglione-flavoured frenzy tableside by skilled waiters is not something you hear often in Sydney dining rooms these days.