Saint George Tavern and Grill restaurant review 2024: Kara Monssen visits St Kilda pub

TV chef Karen Martini’s humble pavlova is one of many reasons to visit this new-look St Kilda pub.

Melbourne’s admired TV chef Karen Martini is breaking the Saint Hotel curse — one pavlova at a time.

Let’s face it, St Kilda’s Saint Hotel needed a hero.

The villainous Fitzroy St always had it in for the awkward corner pub.

Whatever creeps into the cursed Canterbury Rd crutch – from cheap and cheerful Chinese to publicans peddling $95 lobster pasta – doesn’t hang around.

So when a hero comes along, quite literally in former Hero chef and admired TV star Karen Martini, can we rely on her humble pavlova or thrice-cooked potato cakes to save the day at the new-name Saint George?

I mean, that pavlova alone ($28 for two) is converting “pav haters” with every bite.

Borderline burnt meringue with a smash cake shattery-ness, toppling with an avalanche of textures: pert raspberries, tart raspberry jam and jelly, zesty curd, diplomat cream and a cool touch of fior di latte. Plot twist: it’s not stupidly sweet.

If Saint George is a movie, Martini plays the lead alongside head chef Diana Desensi (Byron Bay’s Pixie), supported by husband Michael Sapountsis upfront and Sydney hospo outfit PUBLIC in the background.

The strozzapreti “cooked pesto” flips the script. Picture: Kristofer Paulsen

If anyone was going to make this place work, it had to be a name chef and the woman who gave us good reason to visit Federation Square with Hero.

And while we’re on clunky designed restaurants, Martini knows how to inject warmth and intimacy into the rooms she moves into.

Cosmetic tweaks fix Saint George’s first problem — the “vibe”.

While the warehouse ready red-brick remains, as well as the hovering catwalks and platforms that make for a real-life game of snakes and ladders when finding the loo, small changes make a big difference.

Those blocky black booths and ceiling skylight are out, replaced by white-clothed tables, a lowered ceiling, strategically placed overhead lights and colourful paper posters on the walls.

The tavern, or front bar, spruiking casual eats, also gets a poster makeover.

Saint George is a homecoming for Martini and Sapountsis.

Together they ran Melbourne Wine Room in the pub across the road, followed by Mr Wolf up further into St Kilda.

This dessert has the magical ability to convert the pavlova haters into lovers. Picture: Kristofer Paulsen

Saint George’s roast chicken is textbook. Picture: Kristofer Paulsen

At Saint George, Martini’s telling her familiar tale of European comforts that are deceptively indulgent. Her cooking is unashamedly classic, rich in flavour and texture.

It’s not just a potato cake ($19 for two).

Thick-cut and thrice cooked, it’s battered in her 50:50 beer and tempura mix, then “double fried” for crunch factor, ruffled in salt and vinegar powder with a splotch of white taramasalata (whipped cod roe) and caviar.

It’s more of a bar snack dressed up as an entree, but there’s no complaints here.

Crab bruschetta ($22) is tummy filling heavy with the holy trinity of pleasure: brown butter, aleppo pepper and sweet crabmeat, lightened by celery leaves and lemon.

Saint George has received a dose of intimacy. Picture: Kristofer Paulsen

While the pistachio pesto pasta ($34), another recipe from Martini’s latest cookbook, jostles al dente strozzapreti (pasta twists) in a “cooked pesto” of basil, parsley and spinach, finished with a fat blob of squacquerone cheese taking it to another delicious dimension.

Don’t overlook the roast chook ($44), unless you fancy the cheeky ode to Melbourne Wine Room’s rib-eye steak ($90); a hefty 650gm serve sizzled over the grill and red-gum, cut to order.

The chook, brined and thrown over flame, is all crackly skin, juicy flesh and served with an electric jus pulsing with sherry, fennel and woodfire smoke. It’s restaurant roast chicken done right.

As for the service? Unflappable. The wine? An exciting mix of local and European quaffers, alongside more special pours via Coravin. (Like a $30 glass of Barolo).

No doubt Martini’s star power will get punters through the door, but it’s what’s on the plate that’ll have the superfans and stumble-by crowd booking tables next week.

The only risk is overindulging, like I seem to always do at Martini’s restaurants, leaving me a comatose sloth for the next 24 hours.

Will Saint George have a happy ending? It certainly was for me.