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Consider, for a moment, the many contributions Greece has made to Australian food culture. The milk bars. The tzatziki. The late-night souvlaki.

Now what if we narrowed our focus just to WA? Who would be the sons and daughters of the Hellenic Republic most deserving of our gratitude? Surely Despina Tanner of Boucla and Lady of Ro fame would get an eyxaristo card. As would brothers Phil and Anthony Arnold, the barista brothers turned restaurateurs that helped bring Yiamas and Community Coffee Co to life.

Plus there’s George Kailis, too: the coastal dining impresario behind Shorehouse, Magic Apple Wholefoods and, of course, the special occasion sizzle of Gibney. (We also have Kailis’ uncle Peter to thank, incidentally, for giving us Red Rooster back in 1972.)

One of the newer Greek arrivals in WA’s food scene is the chef George Tsimpidis. Born in the southern Greek region of Peloponnese, Tsimpidis worked throughout Athens and his hometown of Monemvasia before moving to Perth and spending seven years as head chef at inner-city small bar, Brika. These days, you’ll find him on the tools at Avalon, a Claremont eatery that opened in February serving some polished takes on Greco favourites.

A chunky melitzanosalata dip stars whole roasted eggplant brightened with mint and scattered with pomegranate seeds and shards of pork crackling. Spinach and an airy fetta mousse suspended in a shell of delicate, fine-boned filo makes for a classy rendition of spanakopita, the country’s legendary baked cheese and weed pie. Later, the filo returns for an encore performance with the dough shaped into fat cigar and filled with a dense custard cream: Tsimpidis’s interpretation of his homeland’s beloved galaktoboureko pastry.

If you wanted to, you could eat a meal here that would fit right into any taverna on the planet, yet Avalon isn’t (strictly) a Greek restaurant. Rather, the inhouse dining room within Claremont’s Grove Residences precinct prefers the broader “Mediterranean” catch-all: a tie-in, I suspect, with the property’s whitewashed walls, resort-style pool and verdant gardens. While this kind of mise en scene verily whispers “Mykonos summer”, the restaurant feels a little less carefree. Or at least on a wintry Wednesday evening when the softly lit, predominantly black dining room filled with strong lines comes across as serious and self-conscious.

Then again, when you’re an aspirational “modern vertical living” development – or, you know, apartment block – with its own $600,000 golf simulator that borders Peppermint Grove and Cottesloe, appearances matter.

Tables are set with modern plateware and embroidered linen napkins. Online reservations include options to pre-order a bottle of something red, cellared and full-bodied from Avalon’s stacked cellar that will be decanted and waiting for your arrival (prices start from $175). Prolific vocalist-about-town Sam Nafie sings smoky renditions of soul classics ranging from Alicia Keys anthems to sleeper 90s hits.

In the same way that Tsimpidis gently tweaks Greek favourites, his approach to other Mediterranean dishes is to produce good cover versions rather than radically rewire things.

Take the vitello tonnato. In lieu of the usual fish-spiked mayonnaise, Avalon’s version of the Northern Italian classic stars thin slices of poached veal dressed with a foamier, lighter tuna-infused espuma that’s been aerated in a whipped cream gun. (I suspect Milanese-born Simone Sichel, co-owner of the restaurant along with Tsimpidis, had some input here.) An outer layer of kataifi pastry – a mass of delicate vermicelli-like strands of dough that’s integral to Palestinian dessert knafeh – adds bulk and subtle crunch to plump scallops.

Not every dish sticks its landing, however. The pasta dough in the UFO-like tortelli filled with roasted pumpkin was too thick for purpose. Striploin steak had little of the char, crust or smoke that one hopes to enjoy on cow grilled over charcoal. Soggy, under-salted chips make baby Jesus cry. Every kitchen has off nights, sure, but when you’re talking about a restaurant spruiking mains north of $40, these misfires can jar, especially when the dining room isn’t especially busy.

Service can also waver. One moment, dapper waiters will materialise tableside offering, unprompted, a taste of a wine that they think you’ll enjoy. (They’re right!) Another, they’ll become oddly defensive when you ask whether the beef Wellington is a single slice cut from a bigger portion or a smaller, individual pastry for one: all fair questions, I think, when considering dropping $73 on your dinner.

While I personally reckon Avalon would be a more compelling prospect if the food leaned harder into Tsimpidis’ Greek heritage, I accept that such a narrow focus mightn’t work for what is essentially an upmarket neighbourhood restaurant servicing some of Perth’s most desirable postcodes. Still, the menu feels big and tricky to navigate. Could trimming the carte improve things for guests and the kitchen alike, I wonder?

But perhaps sharply composed plates gleaned from the Mediterranean nations and served in a fancy room is precisely what well-heeled locals want. While some of us yearn for meals to tide us over until that next Japanese holiday, others crave edible postcards that conjure sunny memories of July getaways to Nice, Santorini, Positano and the like. (And should they happen to share an address with the restaurant and live in the apartments above, even better.)

After all, comfort food means different things to different eaters.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.