The Daily Telegraph’s food critic takes a trip down memory lane to Blue Angel in Darlinghurst

Mining magnate Gina Rinehart is said to be a fan of this venue, as is pretty much every prime minister past and possibly future.

Sydney’s food scene, like the city itself, thrives on imitation. If one French bistro with $3 million worth of brass and Josper grills is good, a dozen will be great. Which can, let us be brutally honest, wear rather thin after a while: Is anyone out there really aching for yet another kingfish ceviche?

If not, then come along fellow jaded traveller for a trip down memory lane to Darlinghurst’s Blue Angel, the most famous Sydney restaurant you’ve likely never heard of.

There’s a glorious old school excess to the place. Spread across several terrace house basements, the walls are lined with famous celebrity photographs (Muhammed Ali!).

Blue Angel in East Sydney. Picture: Jeremy Piper

Owner of Blue Angel Marcello pictured with Tony Abbott at his Blue Angel restaurant in Darlinghurst. Picture: Damian Shaw

Fridges and wine cabinets heave with the most marbled beefs and bottles of Penfolds from when they used a typewriter to fill out the vintage labels.

Down the back, there’s a lobster tank bigger than an inner westie’s plunge pool.

The food is sort of Italy meets Asia: On a recent visit, looked after by the owner and last of the old school host Marcello Marcobello, we open the batting with massive sashimi platters starring raw langoustines topped with caviar (see what we mean about excess)?

Out of nowhere great plates of brightly dressed lobster carpaccio appear, and then a great trolley with gas burners shows up at the end of the table in which Marcello cooks giant King Island crabs with rice wine and garlic and ginger.

These are broken up and served with piles of angel hair (see the fusion?) pasta … a big, massive, visceral dish that demands diners go all in with lobster crackers and picks to get the sweet meat out.

Marcello holding a 10kg King Island Tasmanian crab at his restaurant Blue Angel in Darlinghurst. Picture: Damian Shaw

This is not tweezer food, it’s big, punchy, showy, abbondanza in excess. Later, Marcello makes us crepe suzette tableside, a dish we haven’t seen since Louis Winthorp’s date with Penelope in Trading Places. There is no place else like this left in Sydney.

Mining magnate and legendary backer of Australian sport Gina Rinehart is said to be a fan, and pretty much every prime minister past and possibly future has darkened its door.

It also does a roaring trade with the Chinese tourist set who apparently love having their ice cream set on fire with Maotai, a fearsome Middle Kingdom liquor invented in the 14th century to start recalcitrant lawn mowers.

The important thing about Blue Angel is that to step into it is to step out of time. A bit like the Byzantine Empire, or the French plantation sequence in Apocalypse Now, to those who care to listen it sends a message about where Sydney has been and where it is going.

— The Mouth is an undercover critic and bon vivant who pays his own way around Sydney and beyond.