La Scala on Jersey

Do not adjust your sets. This is not a glitch in the Matrix. Just as the name La Scala is only very slightly different to La Sala, the menu is very nearly identical. But if it ain't broke, folks, why fix it? It saw La Sala packed and also drew a following out at Palm Beach's Barrenjoey House. And, if you're long in the tooth (and wallet) enough, it might even remind you a bit of eating at the River Café. Like Jamie Oliver, chef Darren Simpson worked at the famous London Italian restaurant under Ruth Rogers and the late Rose Gray. Unlike Jamie Oliver, who went on the spawn countless books, television shows and children with silly names, Simpson moved to Australia, making his mark with a clutch of River Café-esque hits that Sydneysiders have been clamouring for ever since.

Simpson seems content to keep doing what he does best and Sydney is more than happy to let him. Dates stuffed with almonds and fried crisp in batter; roasted bone marrow with parsley salad (an ode to London restaurant St John more than the River Café); vitello tonnato "my way": winning dishes all. And let's pause for a moment to give the chocolate nemesis cake its due: this famously hard to bake, mousse-like cake has had plenty of cooks in tears. It's famously tricky to make (always too wet, too dry, or a frightening mix of both), but not so at La Scala. Here, to quote Goldilocks, it's juuuuust right. And, like the dates, the bone marrow and the vitello tonnato, is almost worth a visit in itself. Simpson roasts the veal for his tonnato (the tradional number is poached) and drizzles the tuna mayo over the top, garnishing with a mess of green beans and capers. And yes, it's very, very good. 

Recruiting Simpson is a wise investment for the Light Brigade. While they've given the upstairs restaurant a whole new interior decor that you could label as overly busy, you can't accuse them of slotting in just another chef and waiting to see what happens. They might, however, want to take a closer look at their service. It's a bit all over the shop at the moment (water orders lost or confused, wine being served after the food has arrived, no bread for the bread plates), though it's nothing more practice and a good floor manager couldn't correct.

If you want to eat one of the best carpaccios in the city, though, you should try the one at La Scala. Unlike the many versions you'll see, this version is true to its Venetian roots and translates as thin slices of raw beef dressed with a Jackson Pollock squiggle of Worcestershire, beef jus, mayonnaise and lemon juice. That's all it is, and that's all it needs to be. Manzo – rib eye steak on the bone – is hidden under a salad of radicchio, Roman beans and, wait for it, drunken cheese. What is that intriguing sounding stuff? It's basically a pecorino cheese made tangy with wine and grape 'must' (not-quite-wine grape juice).

Can we just go back to that chocolate nemesis cake one more time? It really is a marvel. This slender, dark little wedge of cake with a perfect quenelle of creme fraiche is one of the lightest-yet-richest desserts you're likely to taste.

For all the faults out the front (did we mention the bland doof-doof music in the background?), La Scala's kitchen is firing. Déjà vu never tasted this good. Myffy Rigby