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For the past two years, before the pub reopened in November, Balmain locals have been treating The Dry Dock as if it were Willy Wonka’s shuttered factory: “My son says he saw a light on upstairs”; “I’ve heard Justin Hemmes was looking at the site”; “There was smoke coming out of the chimney last week”; “Look, new doors! And is that an Oompa Loompa?”

The Dry Dock is the oldest pub in a suburb known for its old pubs. It’s the size of four normal houses or one Birchgrove terrace, and it’s had more owners than a $10 note. Before it closed for renovations, the boozer’s profits were built on pokies and problem drinking and, although it was the closest pub to my house for almost five years, something had to be horribly wrong if I ever found myself there on a Friday.

There are still screens to watch the Tigers play footy, but all the pokies have been turfed. Nice work.

Contrary to online rumours, Justin Hemmes’ Merivale empire did not buy The Dry Dock when it went on the market in 2021. Another restaurant group did: Peninsula Hospitality, co-founded by industry veteran James Ingram and investor Mike Everett.

Local speculation wasn’t completely misguided, though: Ingram was Merivale’s group general manager for a bit, while Ben Sitton – a former co-head chef of Hemmes’ Felix bistro – leads the kitchen.

It feels like an entirely new venue. The Ship of Theseus with $9 schooners. Across a public bar, lounge and dining room, big money has been spent on aged brass, leather, zinc and marble. A wood-burning fireplace makes me look forward to winter, as do the stock levels of rum and brandy.

There are still screens to watch the Tigers play footy, but all the pokies have been turfed. Nice work, Ingram. Take a free kick. (Hoteliers should be banned from claiming their pub is “first and foremost for the community” blah, blah, blah, if it has pokies on site.)

Unlike, say, The London up the road, The Dry Dock’s dining room isn’t the kind of pub bistro where you might drop in wearing thongs or pop in for a burger on the way home from work.

The light-filled (and often noisy) space can heave with guests going hard on oysters ($6.50 each and served on ice), crudites ($13) and a particularly smashing prawn cocktail ($30). Book ahead.

Sitton’s menu is pitched as contemporary European, which basically means a lot of steaks, sides and salads, plus some pasta and seafood. There’s no chicken schnitzel, but there is a crumbed cutlet of juicy Berkshire pig planted in beurre noisette and honed with burnt lemon ($49). It’s the reason God invented chardonnay, and there’s plenty of the stuff on the medium-sized wine list, including a fair whack of young Burgundies.

A charcoal grill does a lot of heavy lifting, and steak options range from a $39 rump cap frites to an 800-gram rib-eye ($165). The bearnaise is textbook gear.

A 450-gram lamb chop ($54) is beaut value for one couple to share, with an edge of sweet, grassy fat against ruddy meat and an intense salsa verde.

Rotisserie chicken ($36) has become a regular order: crisp, golden and fully flavoured with currants, pine nuts and pan juices.

Other go-tos include a caper-sharp steak tartare ($29), oven-roasted peach salad with macadamias and pecorino ($26) and mafaldine pasta spruced up with a rich, bisque-style crab sauce and chilli.

It’s all very close to scoring a hat, but a few inconsistencies need to be fixed first. I’ve had a totally fine cheeseburger with fries ($28), for instance, and I’ve had a shockingly dry one. I’ve encountered a doughnut with the texture of something from the Coles discount rack, but its boysenberry jam and chantilly cream were terrific. The other week, pan-roasted John dory ($52) was over-seasoned, but the beurre blanc was faultless.

Wine ordered by the glass is poured away from the table more often than not. An olive-pit tray for your martini ($20) would be handy, and there’s no lack of little metal sauce bowls in use that would do the job. Once, one of these bowls still had its barcode sticker attached, which isn’t quite what you want so see on the plate next to a $95 sirloin.

But I do want to see more pubs without pokies; more pubs providing food options beyond frozen squid; more pubs with working fireplaces and leather couches. If every old boozer was remodelled to look like The Dry Dock, that would be awful, too, but Balmain still has plenty of joints where you can throw back a Tooheys and bet on the trots.

I’m just happy to have my old local back on the starting line-up.

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine