The Mouth review: Randwick’s Duke of Gloucester needs some new tricks

Tributes to “the DOG’s” steaks go back decades, but these days the signature dish at Randwick’s Duke of Gloucester is a little lacklustre, writes The Mouth.

The Duke of Gloucester Hotel at Randwick.

The other day this column watched a panel of very learned people with very big brains have a very scary talk about the way we will all live in the future.

Apparently sometime soon we will all live in a virtual world and go to virtual dance parties and live in a virtual “meta” verse where our physical selves no longer matter and we can all stay safe within our pods wiggling and jiggling the night away without any of the mess of dealing with other human beings.

The pandemic has of course been great for these sorts of doe-eyed futurists, because it has made leaving the house more of a pain than going to the park with two sets of twins.

Now, normally after a successful afternoon (responsibly) on the punt at Randwick, the biggest challenge this column would face getting into a venue is convincing the door staff that we are not, shall we say, over-exuberant.

These days, the task is convincing the bouncer you are not Typhoid Mary.

And thus it was the guard at the door of Randwick’s Duke Of Gloucester, upon finding out that our party did not have the required compliance cloths we would need to engage in the super-dangerous task of walking to the bar and ordering a beer, handed us surgical masks. Using – no joke – a pair of tongs.

Out: “Get among it, you filthy animals!”

In: “You better not infect anyone, you filthy lepers.”

Click, click.

It was the first of many misses at what was once a much-loved venue.

Search newspaper archives and you can find tributes to “the DOG’s” steaks going back at least as far as 1988.

Yet today, a year into its acquisition by Merivale, it is a rare black hole in its otherwise glittering constellation of restaurants.

Justin Hemmes’ Merivale took over Randwick’s Duke of Gloucester in 2020. Picture: Bianca De Marchi

Loud, chaotic, and expensive, if you were subjected to this via a virtual reality headset I bet you’d take it off and throw it in the bin.

Take the signature bone-in sirloin, this column’s go-to order.

Big, yes, but mealy, and with the lightest of grill marks, the poor thing felt more steamed than seared.

Accompanied by mashed potatoes that would be better filling nail holes before an end of lease inspection, you would be forgiven for thinking this was a $10 cheap and cheerful special – yet each of us barely got change for a pineapple.

While financial advice is generally beyond this column’s purview, if you’re paying $45 (the same freight as a grilled Bangalow pork chop at Rockpool) for this offering, it is a fair sign that inflation is coming and you’d better lock in your mortgage.

Because Lord knows, if this is what the brave new world looks like, we’re all going to want someplace nice to stay home.

Of course, the old DOG has only been part of the Hemmes stable for a year. This column looks forward to seeing Merivale teach it some new tricks.