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Grossi Florentino

Dante might have conceived a set-up like this. The ground floor, with its all-day smart-tratt Cellar Bar, is hardly purgatory, but as you rise to the Grill, things get more lavish. Ascend the stairs to the restaurant proper and you’re suddenly in a restaurateur’s old-school paradise. A large canvas of the Ponte Vecchio, a glass case filled with cheeses, silver vases sprouting grissini, courtly waiters, Bourke Street’s leaves beyond the panes. Veal shin ravioli comes with ‘jamón-flavoured’ bone marrow, like nubs of impossibly light and rich gnocchi. Bone marrow reappears roasted, offsetting the leanness of hanger steak, that gamy, pleasantly chewy foodie favourite, alongside sautéed pine mushrooms. Desserts, such as chamomile brûlée with almond milk ice-cream, underscore that the kitchen can drop the ball when gets too tricky. These dollars demand more consistency, but when it’s good, it’s great.