Dan Stock: The George on Collins is a pub with pretensions that lowers the bar

SERVICE that isn’t even amateur, a snoringly safe beer selection, cold food and “brown wet muck” at $24: this colour-by-numbers, refurbished Melbourne CBD pub has a long way to go, writes Dan Stock.

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IS there a more redundant pretension in Melbourne 2017 than labelling something “the Paris end”?

When even the Paris end of Paris is feeling a bit exhausted, it’s probably time to retire what has long been simply real estate speak for high rents.

Though when Georges department store first opened its doors at the top end of Collins St in 1880, the parasol-twirling allure of the French capital would’ve been something to channel, and behold.

There’s no doubt the recent refurbishment of the basement of the Georges building wants to recapture the one-time glamour of this part of town.

There have been many, many zeros spent on reimagining and rebranding what was The Long Room, a space where for the past decade self-important suits — Roger Davids wanting to be Harrolds — came to bray over beers until late in the night, into The George on Collins, where it’s more of the same but now with added day-through-night food.

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The “sticky BBQ coffee beef rub short-rib” slider at The George. Picture: Rebecca Michael.

The space is as handsome, dull and functional as a Thelma-and-Louise Brad Pitt, with curtained booths book ending either side of the room that’s still dominated by the long bar.

The package, however, is so industrial strength bland it wouldn’t frighten a hobby horse. Whether the soundtrack — The Fugees and Craig David and plodding house all played too loud for the background music it deserves to be — or the snoringly safe beers on tap, or the menu that plays pick-up-sticks with every current culinary trend, The George remains a perfect corporate-crowd venue for it feels designed by committee.

It’s colour-by-numbers stuff — share plates and sliders and Kumbaya motherhood statements (“we serve beautifully created thoughtful dishes using local produce from suppliers who we love”) – though the picture it paints could be Jackson Pollock’s version of The Scream.

They even have something called the “Friday Night Concept”, something that could only be conceived by a conference call of washable suits. This revolutionary idea — drinks! snacks! — is only bettered in its cynicism by the “mac and cheese with foraged saltbush” on the dinner menu for $15.

Give me a break.

While there’s no hard and fast rule as far as size goes, I’m tipping if you have to hold it together with a skewer it’s no longer a slider, no matter how trendy that sounds.

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The space at The George is as handsome, dull and functional as a Thelma-and-Louise Brad Pitt. Picture: Rebecca Michael.

We tried all three — the “sticky BBQ coffee beef rub short-rib”, the pork with apple, and the halloumi with “parsley ribbon salad”.

The buns — though char marked — were cold, the beef over-caffeinated and the pork, though nicely teamed with sweet soft apple, came tricked up with superfluous puffed crackling.

And even vegetarians draw the line at cold halloumi.

In a city still obsessed with burgers, these ill-executed versions would be memorable for the wrong reasons even if they weren’t each served on a wooden board adorned with some sort of desiccated leaf that should’ve come with a chalk outline.

A thin, Sao-like flatbread was the base for overly salty jamon and bland nduja (the spreadable sausage d’jour), all on a forgettable tomato paste ($23), though it was preferable to the pearl barley risotto ($24).

This bowl of brown wet muck studded with squashy-soft brussels sprouts looked like an eight-year-old had tried to hide the veg he didn’t want to eat in his brother’s nappy.

It’s a dish that sets the brussels sprouts cause back to the time when the offer of cracked pepper from a giant grinder was a thing (which it is still is here).

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The George’s lemon tart. Picture: Rebecca Michael.

The lamb shoulder with roast vegetables. Picture Rebecca Michael.

Thankfully, the slow-roasted lamb — a big dish that two or more could share — was excellent, a generous serve of fall-apart meat that came with artfully roasted carrots and potatoes and peas tossed with big chunks of smoky bacon.

If you overlook the soggy lettuce quarters it was served on, it’s a great winter dish ($58).

Service, though, was anything but.

Whether pouring red wine into a previously used white wine glass, or whisking away napkins after entree or wiping down our table with a Chux after main, it wasn’t even amateur.

The George is a pub with pretensions — a Paris end pub, if you will — that lowers the bar.

Sure, it’s still a perfect place for the booze-fuelled false bonhomie of the corporate card set, but if you’re looking for something same same only excellent, you just have to go a block over to Garden State Hotel.

For reappropriating what was the Georges’ motto “What We Do, We Do Well” as an affirmation is all well and good, but unfortunately right now the answer is “No, You Don’t”.

SCORE: 10/20

The George on Collins

Basement 162 Collins St, Melbourne

thegeorgeoncollins.com.au

Open Mon-Fri from 7.30am; Sat-Sun from 8am

Go-to dish: slow-roasted lamb