Lucia South Melbourne restaurant review 2024
This new inner-city Italian restaurant is fancy with a capital ‘F’ and feels like a Euro holiday without a budget — but there’s a very affordable reason to visit.
Food
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I was about to call time on raw tuna, then I visited Lucia.
Whispering in fluent Italian, our sultry sea friend seductively wrapped its way around my fork like leggy prosciutto.
Fermented tomato dressing, romesco and white anchovies pop off like pizza – the salt, tang, pepper heat! Boom!
It’s even more affordable now than it was last month, thanks to a seasonal menu change (from $32 to $30).
Mediterranean through and through, it’s unlike anything I’ve eaten lately, and not the only trick you’ll see from chef Jordan Clavaron.
After stints at Society and Cutler and Co, he’s found a new place for his tweezer work at this new South Melbourne fine diner.
Lucia is the suburb’s answer to the Amalfi Coast.
Being in her presence feels like a Euro holiday without a budget.
The warmth of those midday rays on your skin as they pool through floor-to-ceiling windows, the hotel lobby-like twinkling of piano covers of modern pop hits Rolling in the Deep and Killing Me Softly on the speakers, $1200 bottles of Dom Perignon, caviar over ice, cocktails for days ... I could go on.
Though what I love most about Lucia runs deeper.
It’s the profound attention to detail in all they do. The equal commitment to excellence and deliciousness.
And feeling like the owners Anthony Silvestre and Frank Ciorciari genuinely want you to have a good time.
You may remember them from their growing suburban restaurant empire: Malvern East’s Riserva wine bar, Sandringham’s beachy Baia Di Vino and Scoresby’s San Lorenzo.
As they edge closer to the big smoke, things get noticeably fancier without losing sensibility (Hello, $11 Peroni Red).
Maybe spare the interiors.
All marble, velvet, gushing sheer curtains and automated bathroom doors that swoosh open on approach.
Let’s start with a wine.
Simone Garro’s encyclopaedic bible runs 20 years and 400 bottles deep. You’re bound to find something spesh, say Barolo or Burgundy, something local and otherworldly treats.
I’m coming back for this alone.
Cocktail, perhaps? There are 11 to be exact, minus booze if you choose, or one-sip martinis and negronis in a blessing for designated drivers.
You must snack. We quickly put away golf-ball sized fried confit duck croquettes, dabbed in tart plum jam ($7 each), and ox tongue skewers ($9 each) sizzled to charry perfection and slicked in salsa verde.
Those chubby octopus nibs are expertly cooked, artfully line dancing with chat potatoes and explosive cherry tomatoes ($24).
Ultra fine beetroot ($9 each) draped over a goats’ cheese mound looks like a tennis ball under a blanket, drenched in burnt butter and sage like Baia Di Vino’s 2019 signature. It’s still as magnificent as it was back then.
I’m not rushing back to try the tartare ($28).
Eating raw, cold lamb takes time to wrap my brain around, even if the dukkah and gribiche sauce are egging me on. Is the meat too rich? Do these flavours come alive with warmth? Maybe it’s not for me.
I continue to mourn the loss of Clavaron’s summertime crab linguine ($45) slippery in a rosy tomato bisque, though I’m grateful its spirit lives on in the Moreton Bay spaghettoni.
The pork rib is my new hero ($46), with a golden crumbed cape and bone-in to retain juicy tenderness, you’ll get a gnarly mix of crunch and fat with every bite.
Someone deserves a pay rise for adding creme fraiche on the side.
That said, you’d be mad to miss the perfectly sculpted meringue, bourbon and espresso riff on the tiramisu – a masterpiece in looks and flavour.
Lucia may be fancy with a capital ‘F’, but it still delivers where it most counts: the flavour department. From first sip to final bite, know the team will have your back.