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You can see why it’s popular: a sea-eagle’s view of Whale Beach … perfect for counting ships on the horizon or popping the question to a potential fiancee. If the answer’s yes, why not have the reception in the same room? “Luxuriously appointed furnishings will leave you and your guests with a truly memorable experience,” Jonah’s website tells me.

I’ve had a few of my own memorable experiences at Jonah’s over the years. The first time I sniffed an Australian truffle was here, back when chef George Francisco helmed the kitchen, circa 2008.

I’ve enjoyed outstanding wines on the clifftop terrace – stolen afternoons with the rest of the world on pause. “How much for one of the hotel rooms if we want to open another bottle? $800? Okay, no problem. We’ll just get the bill and head back to Glebe.”

But more recently, I’ve heard reports from Northern Beaches sources that the food at Jonah’s has gone downhill – and the furniture is looking tired. And Bert’s at Newport offers better value for (admittedly considerable) money.

But that view still commands attention, as does the novel-length wine list, so the other week I booked lunch at the destination diner for the first time in four years.

Is it still worth the hour-long drive from the city? No, not quite.

The beige-on-cream dining room has long felt a bit “function centre meets cosmetic surgeon’s superyacht”, and that’s fine, each to their own. I have an aunt from Terrigal who loves it. But there’s also a tear in the carpet near us and many table legs are smudged with scuff marks. When you’re paying $140 for three
courses, the “luxuriously appointed furnishings” could do with a fresh lick of paint.

The a la carte menu is vaguely modern Italian with a few outre flavour combinations. You don’t see kingfish paired with ricotta too often, or barramundi with black garlic and “lettuce emulsion”.

There are three pastas: a mushy squid-ink linguine with crab, cherry tomatoes and too many crushed pistachios; wholemeal casarecce with king prawns; and smoked potato-filled agnolotti (it’s like ravioli) with “goat’s cheese, dill oil and truffle oil”.

Ahooga! Red alert. Sound the alarm. Truffle oil almost always indicates a kitchen that values shortcuts and style over substance. It’s the auto-tune of the food world, smothering everything it touches with a one-note funk that smells like a teenager’s sleeping bag at the tail end of school camp. If you use truffle oil, Anthony Bourdain once wrote, “you should basically be punched in the kidneys”.

But I’m happy to be proved wrong, and order the dish regardless. Gee, it’s smoky. Like, “raging bonfire” smoky, and not in a fun, peated whisky way. A wine that can match the combination of truffle, smoke and goat’s cheese doesn’t exist yet, which might be why no one asks if we would like something from the cellar with our entrees. Maybe the Tyrrell’s 2016 Belford Semillon ($80)?

Mind you, this is a small hiccup in service which is otherwise warm and efficient. The floor team isn’t the problem at Jonah’s.

Over-seasoned duck breast is cooked sous vide-style in a water bath; the texture isn’t too far removed from bubblegum although its accompanying plume of beetroot ribbons and blackberries is pleasant enough.

Wagyu tri-tip is full of beefy flavour, but needs a nicely charred crust to contrast with the creamy fat (all signs point to more enthusiastic use of the sous-vide machine). A hazelnut-strewn cauliflower puree next to the meat is on the wrong side of lukewarm.

The souffle is a significant improvement on everything that’s come before it – light and moussey under the crust and tangy with bright passionfruit coulis.

There’s also a semifreddo with “raspberry caviar, lime and hibiscus”, but for a $20 surcharge you can upgrade your choice of dessert to a cheese plate with stonkingly good ashed brie, terrific blue and decent chevre. (I could have done without the kids’ lunchbox-style grapes and dried apricots, though.)

When you’re paying $140 for three courses, the “luxuriously appointed furnishings” could do with a fresh lick of paint.

Maybe you can have a nice time on the terrace with a dozen oysters ($90). Maybe the hot-and-cold seafood platter for two is worth the $260 price tag. I hope so.

I’ve always rooted for Jonah’s to deliver an experience worthy of its location and history. When the restaurant opened as a teahouse in 1929, it was described as “a romance of Australian brick and stone”.

Today, it feels more like a fling of scuffed chairs and room-temperature puree. At least there’s still time to course-correct before the centenary rolls around.

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine