Moncur Terrace

This is a confusing offering from Damien Pignolet. You might know him from such restaurants as Bistro Moncur, Moncur Cellars and the Bellevue hotel. His latest project is Moncur Terrace - a space at the very top of Bistro Moncur - pretty much an excuse to eat and smoke at the same time.

When you hear the word terrace, you might think rusty iron railings, maidenhair ferns, old nubs of melted candle and sun bleached floorboards.

What most of us don't think of is Cell Block H: stainless steel walls, concrete a-go-go, ciggies blagged everywhere you look. There's also Fashion TV on disinterested loop and the most sunglasses indoors we've ever seen. No prison tatts though, more's the pity.

Coming to Moncur Terrace on a Saturday night is like entering a bear pit filled with Woollahra trustafarians boozing it up, throwing around cash. The waitresses are stretched - they swing past our table and linger longer than necessary, avoiding the hordes of teenage boys in Ralph Lauren, whining for mummy to bring more Depth Charges.

But the food is exceptional. For what basically equates to pub food, Damien Pignolet has managed to take it to the next level with the likes of a steak baguette with slices of pink steak, avocado (weird we grant you, but it works) and onion jam. And the there's the now obligatory wagyu burger - stunning beef mince, melted cheese straight on the patty and pickled cucumber. Ooh baby.

He's taken old school Aussie classics and Frenched them up. So on one hand you're eating a wiener schnitzel with anchovy butter and tatie salad, on the other you could be eating a retro chicken and iceberg salad with avocado dressing.

It's all meticulously planned food that pleases the soul with reminders of Aussie childhood lunches employing impeccable French cookery.

If his food could be transported to anywhere but here, we'd be a thousand times grateful. We've been told that Wednesdays and Thursdays are the days to really give the Terrace a nudge but even taking the over-groomed clientele out of the equation, we're still left with this dire, characterless room.

Dessert is a bit of a let down. While a cold praline soufflé sounds really exciting on the page, it's less so on the plate. It basically equates to a sweet ball of fluffy eggwhite sugared and torched on the outside (the praline) sitting like a (floating) island on a pair vanilla and raspberry sauces.

What Moncur Terrace lacks in vibe, aesthetics and coolness, it makes up for in fantastic food and incredibly capable (and thick skinned) staff. It's good value for money but with Bistro Moncur right underneath, there's not much of a call to make the trip upstairs.

At The Woollahra Hotel.