Sean's is Sean's is Sean's. The eccentric charm of the honeycomb tile floor, scallop shell lights, small blackboards scrawled with wines, and stripe-clothed tables combine to transport you to another world.

And yet the panorama across the road is pure Bondi Beach, with surfers chasing waves off Ben Buckler.

Both a little and a lot has changed since Sean Moran and Michael (Manoo) Robertson opened Sean's Panaroma, as it was known, in 1993.

A crazy little closed-in verandah space for a restaurant then and now; it's a farmhouse kitchen by the sea that feels warmly welcoming; comfortable in its own skin.

No longer a la carte, it does the next best thing by offering choices across entree, main and dessert for $100. So settle in and admire the beachcomber chic of little sea shells of sea salt, olive oil and butter, and the bowl of crisp, tiny radishes and baby purple carrots in a rubble of black olives.

Already, there's a sense of simplicity, of colour, of an artist's eye. During lockdown, Moran posted Instagram shots showing each daily takeaway menu framed in fruits and vegetables like Arcimboldo, in order to lift his spirits and ours. More art is hung on the pegboard walls, but it's the room itself that's the real work of an artist.

When not playing with his food, Sean is cooking it, next to head chef Sam Robertson. It's uncheffy stuff that feels natural, unfussed and real; equally responsive to the season and changing supplies and shifting obsessions.

Beetroot hides in the hollows of ruby-red radicchio leaves, drizzled with a rich yoghurt dressing. There's the crunch of small golden balls of chickpea panisse, and the sting of grated horseradish.

Soft salami encircles a round of pork, leek and rabbit terrine, offset with a couple of mouthfuls of celeriac remoulade, and some bland brown rice crackers.

After nearly 30 years, Sean's brined and roasted chicken has taken on the mantle of a genuine legend; non-negotiable for the legions of regulars. Today's chook comes from Little Hill Farm in the Hunter Valley, where the pasture-raised birds are watched over by two Maremma dogs.

Framed by the big white plate, it could be exhibited next to a Vermeer still life, titled Sunday Roast. The pale, herb-scented breast is immaculately carved (no difficult-to-eat chunks here); the roast potato and sweet parsnip encased in golden crunch; the tangle of wilted greens and puddle of gravy bringing colour and contrast, light and shade.

Murray cod makes a fine alternative, served crisp-skinned, with crimson and gold stems of rainbow chard and – always, the crunch – potato roesti.

There's a basket of breads, and a side of garlic-licked broccolini as well. Yes, you will eat too much, but how often do you get food this direct, elegant and nurturing? I think the cooking is better now than it has ever been.

When you've signed up to a three-course format, you can't just skip dessert because you're full. Hoorah! That means you don't miss out on a nutmeg-dusted baked custard and rhubarb that's come straight from the nursery via boarding school.

This is one of the few places that offers cheese without a supplement. Right now, it's Milawa Blue, Tasmania's famed Pyengana cloth-bound cheddar, and Tully's Gold, a creamy, smear-ripened cheese from Gippsland, displayed on a tray with ruddy Missile apples, quince paste and walnuts in the shell. Choose your cheese and it comes back plated with all of those things and a clutch of birdseed crackers.

On the floor, Sara Caddeo and Ben Pritchard somehow manage three seatings for lunch (noon, 2pm and, unusually but popularly, 4pm) and two for dinner without undue briskness.

It's not all nirvana – some teeny tables are squished awkwardly into corners as if punished for being naughty, and the kitchen crashes and bangs its way through service just metres away. But what matters is that now, as ever, Sean's is Sean's is Sean's. If anything, it's even more Sean's.

The low-down

Vibe Farmhouse kitchen by the sea

Go-to dish Roast chook with oregano, cavolo nero and parsnip

Drinks Mainly Australian boutique wines with plenty by the glass, plus craft beer and balanced cocktails.

Terry Durack is chief restaurant critic for The Sydney Morning Herald and senior reviewer for the Good Food Guide.