Our signature parlour game for the gloriously indecisive. One spin commits you to a course the table didn't see coming — and neither did you.
Order a drink, settle in, and tell your waiter you're playing the wheel.
The wheel decides the dish — substitutions are politely refused. That is the game.
Every outcome was plated by the same kitchen. Land on the 0 and dessert is on the house.
Table roulette
Spin the wheel to reveal tonight's calling.
We buy whole carcasses from two Australian farms and grade every cut against a marble-score ledger that reads like a trading sheet.
500-day grain-fed, dry-aged 35 days in-house, finished over binchotan.
Served by the gram on chilled brioche with crème fraîche and chive oil.
Every plate lists the farm, the grading date and the hands that raised it.
Behind unmarked doors: dining rooms with private dealers, dedicated sommeliers and a door code that changes nightly.
Eight seats around a single chemin de fer table; the kitchen plates mid-shoe so the game never stops.
Request accessFloor-to-ceiling glass over Pyrmont Bay, a private bar, and a table that converts from tasting to Texas Hold'em.
Request accessA single chef's table inside the wine cellar itself — fourteen courses at cellar temperature, candles included.
Request access
"A tasting menu is a card game. You hold back the ace until the table has forgotten it's still in the deck."
Fifteen years across hatted kitchens in Sydney, Lyon and Copenhagen. Ellison runs the pass like a croupier runs a shoe — precise, unhurried, and utterly unsentimental about a dish that doesn't earn its seat.
Our signature tasting progression moves clockwise around the menu — amuse-bouche at zero, dessert at thirty-six.
Sydney rock oyster, house-made vermouth sphere, sea herbs — the opening bet.
Finger lime, green almond, white soy; sliced to order at the counter.
Warm brioche, cultured butter, shaved seasonal truffle at the table.
Saffron beurre blanc, sea succulents — the house's most requested course.
Binchotan finish, smoked marrow, a pinot jus reduced for two days.
Table-side press, sour cherry, witlof — served only to parties of two or more.
A single perfect wedge, chosen nightly, with quince and walnut bread.
Frozen verjus, green apple, a palate reset before the final hand.
Chocolate, hazelnut, salted caramel — one in twenty hides a golden token worth a return dinner.
Four cards in the deck. Each tier unlocks a deeper level of the house — priority reservations, cellar privileges, and rooms the public never sees.
Entry tier for first-season guests.
For regulars who treat the room as a second dining table.
The tier our busiest members renew without being asked.
Twelve seats. Reviewed annually by the house committee.
Our pastry room seals a hand-numbered 24k gold-plated token inside one Jackpot dessert each service. Find it, and your next tasting menu is on us.
Every dish and its wine are scored separately — flavour weight, acidity, texture. A pairing only reaches the menu when the combined hand totals exactly 21.
The dish scores on intensity — a toothfish in saffron butter sits at 10 points on our ledger.
The wine answers with structure — an aged Hunter semillon plays the perfect 11.
A balanced hand. Ask your waiter to show the pairing ledger at your table.
Guests who guess the sommelier's card before the reveal receive a welcome pour from the vault list.
Friday and Saturday nights the dining room runs on a double schedule: a live quartet until midnight, and a soft-limit baccarat table that fills as the last set ends.
Quartet in the round; tasting menu served in tempo with the set list.
Salon tables open to diners; minimum buy-in stays deliberately civilised.
The midnight menu runs until close — oysters, tartare, and the Jackpot.
Hard bop and bossa, Thu–Sat. Sets at 20:00 and 22:30.
The cocktail list lives inside a converted strong-room: rare vermouths, single-cask whiskies, and a martini trolley that hasn't stopped rolling since opening night.
Frozen gin, house vermouth blend, lemon coin — served at −6°C.
Single-cask rye, smoked in the glass over wine-barrel oak.
Coravin pours from the reserve list — first growths without the bottle.
Twelve built cocktails, no alcohol, no compromise on structure.
At 23:00 the room draws one booking number. If it's yours, the evening — food, wine, the lot — is struck from the bill.
Until tonight's draw. Terms at the concierge desk.
"The most theatrical dining room to open on the harbour in a decade — and the food more than survives the theatre."
Sydney Morning Herald · Good Food
"A wine list with genuine depth and a floor team that treats discretion as a technical skill."
Gourmet Traveller
"Book the tasting. Stay for the cards. SydneyFork understood the assignment."
Broadsheet Sydney
Smart evening wear in the dining room; black tie in the salon privé. We keep the rules short and the welcome long.
Once a season we fly in white truffles from Alba and auction the largest at the table — the winner decides how it's served to the whole room.
