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Ah, Donovans, the charming bastion of old St Kilda among so many glittering glass boxes of newness. Opened in 1997 right on the beach in a 1920s-era building that was once a bathing pavilion, Donovans changed hands last year when original owners Gail and Kevin Donovan passed the torch to long-time manager Nick Parkhouse.

Lovers of the dependable dishes, the warm ’90s California wine country aesthetic, the genteel atmosphere need not have worried. Parkhouse hasn’t changed a thing. And for those of you who might dismiss Donovans as outdated or unexciting, I say: “Fine. Go somewhere else. But you might be missing out.”

Because that word, “dependable”, is what makes Donovans exceptional. I can’t think of a better place to take an older relative for a birthday meal, or even a well-behaved child for a special occasion (if they’re the type of child who would appreciate such a thing – I certainly know my eight-year-old self would have been in heaven).

The menu barely changes, but neither does its quality. This is classic food, cooked right. Show me a silkier, richer, more luxurious chicken liver parfait ($29.50); I’ll wait.

All kinds of places now are experimenting with retro baked oyster preparations; most of them only succeed at ruining perfectly good bivalves. Donovans’ oysters Kilpatrick ($7 each) are a glory of crisp, thinly cut bacon and lashings of Worcestershire, and the creamy briny oysters manage to shine through to boot.

There’s a reason the seafood linguine ($43/$55) is a fan favourite – the scallops and mussels and half a Moreton Bay bug are wonderfully fresh and sweet, the pasta perfectly al dente, and the butter sauce has just the right amount of garlic without overwhelming the seafood.

Grilled Queensland leader prawns (market price) are exactly what I want when I’m in the mood for unadulterated seafood – bouncy, cooked right, with nothing to distract from the underlying quality.

The thing about Donovans that gets overlooked in the new-and-trendy versus old-and-classic discussion is that the cooking here is very good.

Service usually gets one or two lines in a restaurant review, if that: the service is adept or charismatic, or it’s green or downright messy. We make note of it and move on. The service at Donovans deserves closer attention.

Almost all the staff here are quite young, and it’s obvious they’ve been trained incredibly thoroughly. When was the last time you noticed that a waiter knew exactly how to set or clear a table, which utensils to give you and where they go, and when to bring you an extra side table so you don’t feel crowded?

This is old-school service performed by very young people, and done with a relaxed kind of charm – it’s obvious they haven’t been bullied into relinquishing their personalities at the door. We ask how we can make hospitality a more appealing path for more people, and this is one of the answers: train young people well, and treat them well, too.

All this being said, there are things about Donovans that keep it tethered to the past in a way that does it no favours. The first I hesitate to mention because it’s so meaningless in so many ways, but nonetheless: the plastic-covered menus seem tacky and out of date. If you have a menu that does not change (other than specials), the paper version in a plastic cover is probably the most cost-effective and logical way to go. However, it does convey cheapness, or a certain touristy vibe.

This is old-school service performed by very young people, and done with a relaxed kind of charm.

And do we really need a drink called the Big Dick Martini? In 2024? (I shudder to think of the innuendo these young servers must endure from customers ordering this drink.) The cocktails in general could use a refresher – they’re very well-made for sugary ’90s throwbacks, but they’re still sugary ’90s throwbacks. This is a tasteful restaurant; the drinks should match.

The other thing is the music, which veers from on-hold-with-the-bank muzak to weird soft techno and back to elevator tunes. So many options (jazz standards, perhaps?) would be better, less grating, classier, and help Donovans feel like the timeless restaurant it is.

Speaking of timeless, it’s hard to leave without ordering the bombe Alaska for two ($46), which has been served here since before it experienced its current retro renaissance.

But other desserts are worthy of your attention, including the whipped Basque cheesecake ($24), which is more mousse than cake but conveys all the flavours inherent in cheesecake beautifully.

It’s rare for a place to stick around long enough to earn the distinction “timeless”. To do so, it has to make it through its initial trendiness, past the years where it seems irrelevant and old-fashioned compared to newcomers, and then out the other side to where its quality and familiarity are a relief, where you know you can have a meal that’s dependably excellent.

Donovans has done that, and as it enters a new era with its new owners, I have every confidence it will continue to showcase the charm of old St Kilda for decades to come.