Did anyone else ever eat at that dark restaurant in St Kilda Road? It was pitch-black inside, the waiters wore night vision goggles, and you found your food by fumbling around on the table in front of you. The idea was that your sense of taste was heightened - except the food made you wish your tastebuds had been blacked out, too. The Royston's dining room is dim but moody, not inky, and the food is so good you would happily grope in the dark to find it.

Take the seafood hotpot. Dig into the black rice, and you find glinting jewels: firm prawns, gleaming calamari and glistening mussels, along with caramelised onion and julienned carrot and capsicum. A seafoody infusion permeates the dish, along with a slight chilli kick. It's tasty, satisfying and no less enjoyable for being a shady character. It's also not regular pub stuff, just one signal that the Royston isn't a cookie-cutter boozer.

There are other clues. The rear dining room has the wood-panelling and wine-coloured carpet of many a pub, but tables are draped with linen, set with salt and a pepper grinder, and weighty cutlery. There are chandeliers, fake candelabras and a bit of saucy art. Spare bentwood chairs are hung up high on the walls in a chirpy meeting of practical and Dada. A jug of water is deposited on the table, and a cheerful, relaxed waiter talks us through 10 beers on tap in the front bar. A minute later, we're sipping on Temple Pale Ale (a new local brew that's tasty but a little thin) and Mountain Goat Hightail Ale (full-bodied, ballsy, made just over the road). Beer geeks should note that the Royston also serves cask-conditioned ale hand-drawn from the keg.

Chef Rob Clark (former Geebung Polo Club) is running a menu with a split personality: there's pub grub, and more sophisticated stuff, listed under a "chef's specials" heading. The fillers include burgers, parmas, lamb shanks and a towering serve of fish and chips. Two enormous trevally fillets, crossed like swords, are fried to deep golden, concealing pull-apart, moist flesh. The chips are crisp and hot. House-made tartare sauce and a pile of rocket dress the dish up and cut the fry-up factor. The extended repertoire is where you find the claypot, along with porterhouse with succotash. Succotash? This version of the southern US bean-and-corn casserole features lima beans braised with capsicum, corn, pumpkin, tomatoes and smoked paprika. It's perfect winter stodge, and much better than the dull lentil and roasted vegetable tart.

The owner of the hotel is Russell Griggs who, in 2005, spruced up this workers' pub. He also owns the Terminus Hotel in Clifton Hill, which runs to a similar template. But the clue to the dim dining room at the Royston might be his nightclub interests: he is proprietor of A Bar Called Barry, where darkness surely reigns.