Tartine Richmond restaurant review: French bistro slinging open sandwiches, steak frites

Are you a smashed avo on toast or sandwich fan? This Richmond bistro is slinging a hybrid of our two great loves with French flair.

Kara Monssen

3 min read

September 13, 2022 - 12:00PM

Food

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Coffee, footy, the weather and sandwich shops.

All are taken very seriously in Melbourne.

Supermarket white and Vegemite will not cut it anymore in this city – it’s all brioche, sourdough and ciabatta, packed and stacked with fried chicken, beef brisket and other cool cold cuts.

Sangers are being slapped together in the city, suburbs and regions (just look at Torquay’s Mortadeli, Rossco’s in Geelong and soon-to-open Pat’s Sandwiches and Earl’s Deli in Ballarat).

Now, Meatball and Wine Bar founder Matteo Bruno is saying “see ya later spaghetti and bye bye balls” at his Richmond eatery and taking a punt on a new business, French bistro Tartine.

It’s an ode to the open sandwich, best imagined as the fluently French-speaking love child of smashed avo on toast and our OG lunch staple.

The Swan St building’s Parisian white exterior is very posh and leads into an equally oh-so-chic dining space with white chalk-scrawled specials boards and a booze-bolstered mahogany

bar lined by a trim of black bentwoods.

Hash brown topped with fois grais? Yes please.

Towering ceilings make the 45-odd-seater feel grand and more spacious.

Tartine is really a tiny pub that’s perfect for power lunches, cute dates or a quick splash of champers after work. Or caviar by the bump if the budget allows.

Expect less of that roaring dinner trade, although chef Andrew Beddoes (former Union Hotel) does that, too, cooking French faves, such as steak frites and Parisian gnocchi. Not that I could try these if I wanted: I’m told Tartine was so popular during its opening weeks that those larger plates were off limits that day.

Hervey Bay blue swimmer crab tartine.

The scallop tartare is a must.

It’s clear the training wheels are still on and it’s early in the piece for Tartine, but if the bread and bites are anything to go by I’ll be back very soon.

Three crisp hash brown cubes (the size of pool cue chalk, $16), are piped with fluffy foie gras and not very much truffle, and make best mates with fancy fizz – either Louis Roederer or Charles Collins by the glass — or even one of those crisp French and German beers on tap.

They go great guns with the table of suits nearby.

But the wow factor comes with the scallop tartare ($17). That perfectly buttery meat from Rottnest Island is melt-in-your-mouth magical, decorated with sorrel leaves, pickled cucumbers and caviar lolling in a vibrant green chive oil that demands a daub with that sourdough.

My waiter tells me Eddie Parker, the father of sous chef Jim, bakes the Pain Poilâne-style loaves daily for the bistro.

Marvellously malty and where-it-counts crusty, this place is as serious about bread as a Melburnian at lunch. If I go missing, you’ll find me here tearing squares off that organic spelt and rye, mopping up that oily puddle. Delicious.

Most of the heavy lifting has already been done for Tartine’s calling card; all you need to do is pick from one of six flavours.

Will it be pear, roquefort, basil and vincotto? Maybe lamb with muhammara (red pepper dip) and pomegranate or a simple prosciutto and celeriac puree is your jam.

Get a taste of a French bistro in Richmond.

I take the first off the bill, Hervey Bay blue swimmer crab meat tumbled in green apple and chervil, which adds a nifty aniseed touch, dotted with gels of refreshing green apple and crab emulsion.

It has balanced flavours, is nicely seasoned and gives our cafe breakfast staple a run for its money.

Your sweet savoir may come in the form of a lemon tart with its velvety, all-encompassing zesty custard and puckeringly tart citrus jam spread base.

It does the trick, adding dimension and interest, or maybe you’re better suited to a bitter chocolate tart or apple tatin with an espresso. You do you.

Tartine isn’t reinventing the wheel, yet plays to those tummy-rumbling trends with French finesse. A neighbourhood hero that’s even better than sliced bread.