Big Rig Diner

Ruby Rabbit's getting a makeover. The three-level levathian (often rumoured to have had a golden dwarf in its employ) is now repositioning itself as somewhere you can eat as well as drink and shake your ass. Enter Big Rig - an American-style diner on the ground floor. It's the first restaurant owner Paul Schell's ever run, after years of wrangling bars and clubs.

"With food, you're judged every time you open the doors," notes Schell. "With bars or clubs a level of experiential consistency is much easier to achieve and maintain.

"Sure, a bartender can make a bad vodka and soda, but at the end of the day how bad can that ever really get? [But] if a waitress has a bad day it is very obvious to someone dining – it can totally ruin a meal for someone."

The restaurant looks great – melamine tabletops, a jukebox pumping out great tunes, pictures of Elvis dotting the walls and an open grill with big brawny men working the hotplate – but the service element at Big Rig isn't quite there yet. Pretty girls wander around in denim cut-offs and white kneesocks, but don't really wait on tables. The guys behind the counter end up doing most of the work.

You've gotta love the toilets – the walls are lined with little 50s-style instructional diagrams that tell you how to do everything from knot a tie to stop other gentlemen from hitting on your date without resorting to a knuckle sandwich. There's even one showing you how to sneak out of someone's house after a one night stand. Invaluable!

The menu runs along all those American roadside diner classics: burgers, hotdogs, mac'n'cheese, chilli-fries, and pecan pie. Do what we do and share all the food. The fajitas are a cool idea; the sizzling hotplate is served at the table with a big plate of tortillas and all the fixings (grated cheese, sour cream, guacamole, salsa). Unfortunately the meat (or at least the chicken) is underseasoned. The burger, however, is yum: a soft white roll, patty, relish and crisp witlof, it's nicely thought out, as is the hotdog, which is covered in relish and plenty of melted cheese.

And don't go anwhere without eating the chilli – Paul Schell makes it himself. "Cooking chilli is a rite of passage into manhood," he says. "Like changing a carburetor." It's bloody good, too. You wouldn't call it crazy spicy, but it's got oomph and soul. Eat it by itself, with crackers, with corn chips, or our fave, fries. We only wish we'd were given a fork to eat the mince at the bottom of a bowl. Want more? The pecan pie is served covered in thick cream - it's sticky, sweet goodness with great pastry.

Out the back of Big Rig is the Houndstooth Bar. The speakeasy-style bar is decked out from floor to ceiling in chocolate and caramel houndstooth. A giant glass coffee table takes pride of place in the middle of the room (lord help the unfortunate soul that makes the mistake of sitting on it) and framing it are houndstooth banquettes. On our visit there's very little on offer in the booze department, but bartender Dan Woolley's on the case now, offering a different cocktail every week.

It's an interesting set-up – the Houndstooth Bar doesn't open until 7pm on weekdays (6pm on Fridays and Saturdays) and the restaurant doesn't seat more than 45 people, so if you turn up with a group before seven and the restaurant's full, you're in a spot of bother. So failing Ruby Rabbit opening the bar a little earlier, our advice would be to arrive on the late side.