Moonah restaurant review 2023: Tobin Kent makes waves in Connewarre

A new farm-to-fork restaurant by an ex-Brae chef is giving us a fresh take on regional dining.

Moonah’s ever-changing menu is influenced by the season, region and what’s fresh from the kitchen garden. Picture: Marnie Hawson.

In this week’s episode of perfect match, we’ll pair wine and veggies.

Grab a glass of savvy b, then eat your greens.

“Yummmm,” I hear you mumble through gritted teeth, yet at Moonah, I can say it’s pretty freaking spectacular.

Stay with me.

During our visit to his Connewarre restaurant, head chef Tobin Kent brought his late summer harvest to our table; a salad of kitchen garden heirlooms and rainbow chard, teamed with a heady goat’s curd.

He readies to pour a Beechworth semillon-sauvignon (a glorious Sorrenberg drop), pauses, the pivots for another bottle.

Strawberries with baked custard and Otway walnuts. Picture: Marnie Hawson.

Instead he picks a funky number, smouldering a cloudy amber colour, poppin’ with jalapeño aromas with savoury roasted tomatoes. Almost salsa in a glass. That Limus sauvignon blanc is righteously good as is, but in some crazy wine magic, when paired with the dish, those tomato dolcetones become fiercely feijoa, giddy with green fruits and sweet melon. Wowee.

What’s incredible is Kent isn’t a trained sommelier, nor does he have any formal wine qualifications. He’s learned on the job, he tells me, building on his industry palate with plenty of prac over the years.

This chef by trade, jack of all, is edging ever-so-closely to the big smoke with his new restaurant, Moonah, after working at Dan Hunter’s Brae and Robin Wickens’ Royal Mail.

Until 2017, he was head chef of Inverleigh’s now-closed Gladioli, before putting his spin on the elevated farm-to-table schtick at Moonah, which runs out of Minya Winery’s old cellar door space.

Here he seats 12 people at a time over lunch and dinner, three times a week.

Unlike other stuffy fine diners, there’s no roll-call of expected proteins (we had mussels, venison, tuna) or repeated hits from years gone by (like Brae’s parsnip dessert) as the menu changes every few weeks. The dining room strikes a balance between Tedesca Osteria casual and Brae/Wickens formal, that’s at once intimate and spacious with plenty of farmhouse charm.

Most importantly, there are slap-yourself-silly dishes that you’ll bank in the vault. Unforgettable flavours and textures you’ll pine over for years to come.

Like the tuna caught off Barwon Heads. It spends a few more seconds on the pan than you’d expect, making the edges flaky and keeping the inners jelly, resulting in a stupidly tender texture unlike anything I’ve had of late, smothered in a fermented truffle sauce. Superb.

Moonah’s kitchen garden gets a workout in the kitchen. Picture: Marnie Hawson.

Or the mussel broth, a two-ingredient triumph which sees Portarlington’s finest blanched then returned to a broth reminiscent of its coastal home. Simply delicious.

And that pig’s trotter (that’s right) panna cotta dessert, which adopts a bizarre flavour hit of candied bacon, milk and honey, tart gooseberries and toasted hazelnut. Bonkers, too clever for its own good? Yes, but I want more.

Almost everything is grown on site (not the wine, that’s outsourced): veggies and fruit from the garden out the front, herbs foraged from the billabong or surrounds.

The white sourdough is baked on-site ahead of each service.

Glass urns are filled with veg and fruit for pickling or fermenting. Fruit scraps are turned into kombuchas.

Chef Tobin Kent is inching ever-so closely to the big smoke, after working at Wicken’s at The Royal Mail Hotel and Brae. Picture: Marnie Hawson.

There’s a vast zero-booze offering for drivers (given its remote location, most would be), and for those who can’t justify full pours on the wine-food pairing, there’s a clever “quarter serve” option for $70 giving you nine, small pours over three hours that’ll keep you under the limit.

Some may be quick to liken Moonah to Brae. They are similar, some may argue there’s more polish at the latter, but does it need to fit a mould of what fine dining should be?

There were some nits to pick, not many: the opening snack procession could do with some work, the sweet tomatoes and chard were overwhelmed by that goat’s curd, the sourdough was not warmed.

But if this is the future of farmhouse dining, it’s looking bright for Moonah – very bright, indeed.