Mid Air restaurant review 2025

The views from the city’s hottest new hotel rooftop are unmatched, the drinks top-tier — but how much are you willing to spend on the city’s fanciest skewer?

Mid Air has incredible city views — from day till night. Picture: Kristoffer Paulsen.

Mid Air rooftop has mad sex appeal.

Unmatched city views, sun-soaked lounges for pineapple mimosa sipping with the gang and a rising-star chef grilling from noon to nightcap o’clock.

Sounds like the hot place to be this summer.

And it’s home to some damn expensive meat on sticks, but we’ll get to that shortly.

The breezy open-air hang is the jewel in the crown of new artsy hotel; Melbourne Place, that’s just opened on Russell St.

It’s within earshot of the city’s foodie hotspots (Embla, Maison Batard, Juni, the unnamed Andrew McConnell project 2025) and even has a rooftop brunch the next day when you’re ready to do it all again.

The lofty New York style digs is also the first home base for Sydney restaurant exports Ross and Sunny Lusted’s new restaurant and bar, Marmelo and Mr Mills.

Mid Air has subtle odes to the Mediterranean. Exhibit A: olive studded sourdough.

But unlike the posh Portuguese stunners (the hotel’s other two eateries), Mid Air is surprisingly more affordable, despite its obscenely high ‘restaurant with a view’ tax risk.

While Mid Air identifies as a restaurant on its website, I wouldn’t bank on dinner here.

Greek chef Nick Deligiannis (Audrey’s Sorrento) Mediterranean celebration — harnessing Turkish, Greek, Spanish and French flavours — leans more into snack and skewer territory (save for the one large share and two sweets).

Two thick slabs of Cobb Lane olive-studded sourdough ($10) and retro thrice-fried wedges with sour cream and sweet chilli ($16) may do the job nicely.

Or you could get a taste of Deligiannis fine-dining tricks with his swish two-biters: sweet spanner crab potato rostis ($11 each) livened up with chive and lemon juice, providing a glorious contrast between temperature and texture.

Deligiannis’ zucchini flower dolmades ($9) are a clever seasonal riff on the Greek classic, replacing vine leaf with the summer flower to roll that cold rice mix snug like sushi.

Expect flavours from Greece, France, Spain and Turkey.

Surprisingly, the lamb donor ($22) is served sans flatbread as naked mound of shaved from the spit brown meat. Though it’s deliciously tender and indulgently enjoyed when its salty and olive brined juices are mopped up by that sourdough.

Now to Melbourne’s most expensive kebabs, where one will set you back almost $30 (yes really) for one stick.

These aren’t like your typical chicken supermarket skewer, with plenty of meat on the bone and the kitchen sourcing prime cuts for the pleasure.

Skull Island king prawns, not one but two ($28), are best swiped in the iconic white cod roe dip taramasalata flecked with aleppo pepper. Vegos may opt for the sugarloaf cabbage ($24), blistered over coals until wilted and smothered in a macadamia tahini.

Would you pay almost $30 for a skewer of meat or veg?

But I was giddy for the goat adana ($26): think tender Turkish-inspired sausage mince smooshed around the metal sword wielding a spicy chilli flake armour hardened over coals. Not only was it worth every penny in the flavour stakes: toasty, textural, and swiped in a sharp curd to counter, the meat is from the male goals who do not produce milk at Meredith Dairy (famous for its cheese and yoghurt).

While food nerds will revel in the no-waste pleasure, I do think this price will be a hard pill to swallow for the average punter.

Mid Air is about drinks, snacks and good times.

The drinks list should win over most on price: $12 beers on tap, most cocktails under $25 and a tight list of choice wineries from here and abroad.

My pick is the chirpy King Valley gamay; oozing spiced red fruits that’ll brush up nicely against the charcoal theme.

If your sunny weather social brief requires delicious bevs and bites by those in the know, I’d be spending my money at Mid Air above some other joints blatantly cashing in on the rooftop tax.

With a genuine care for decent eating and drinking by all — that’s worth raising a mimosa to.