The Mouth: No fake formality, just fun food: Bar Vincent hips the spot

Bar Vincent is the secret hotspot where Sydney’s best chefs dine. But is it any good?

Bar Vincent's King George whiting, left, and steak tartare. Pictures: Supplied

The fundamental question every restaurant needs to resolve is what is more important: That which is on the walls, or that which happens between them?

There is no right answer to this question, and every joint tends to find its own level for better or worse, but this column has long thought that Sydney restaurants have been getting this question increasingly wrong.

Yes, there is some wonderful food being served in this town in some truly remarkable (and expensive) spaces, but are we having fun amid the fit-outs?

This thought occurred to us on a recent school-night out that wound up with an 8.30pm sitting at Bar Vincent, long a hospitality-industry favourite in the heart of Darlinghurst.

Yes, the food was great – sort of Florence on a summer’s day – and we gave into the temptation to fully monster a menu that took us from vitello tonnato and a very light (i.e., hold the Lea & Perrins) steak tartare to a couple of pastas, including a last meal-worthy agnolotti, plus a superfluous King George whiting done all Sicilian.

Casual fit-out and a Panama hat at Bar Vincent. Source: Supplied

vitello tonnato at Bar Vincent. Picture: Supplied

Brilliant.

But what was better was the utter lack of pretence or formality. Wine cartons sat on the floor, an old Panama hat ornamented a wall.

The hip and utterly fun waitstaff were charming and having just as good a time as everyone else.

And when we left about 11, there was still a birthday kicking on that had a strong “cancel tomorrow’s meetings” vibe.

At the risk of stretching the bow to breaking here, while this might be a hipster restaurant in the heart of hip-town, it was an evening that briefly shone a light on the way back from today’s vaguely puritan mindset that is always on the lookout for what looks like too much fun.

There is also something fundamentally and reassuringly Australian about this idea that all the champagne trolleys and caviar bumps in Double Bay don’t make a damn bit of difference if the joint isn’t fun.

Paul Hogan hit on this decades ago, when he did the famous “come and say g’day” ads promoting Australia to the world: “It was, ‘oh we’re gonna go someplace where everyone has fun and we’ll be welcome’,” he said of the series years later.

Hoges’ formula there sums up where restaurateurs should land on this column’s opening dilemma – and reminds us why anyone bothers to leave the house in the first place.

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