Murray Fredericks
A shiny purple column slices through the centre of the room. There are floaty light fittings (one has a baseball hanging, inexplicably, from its base), angular vases and gilt-framed horse paintings. A grand piano. Mirrored, sparkly, dangly things. It’s all strewn around the classical bones of what was once an 1850s bank, so there’s also marble columns, Tasmanian oak panelling and a six-metre carved plaster ceiling. Tied together with tartan carpet, Eleven Barrack looks like a Scottish castle where the laird’s glamorous great-niece has taken over for a house party.
The décor at the new steak and seafood grill from the Bentley Group’s Brent Savage and Nick Hildebrandt, is the work of their long-time collaborator, interior architect Pascale Gomes-McNabb, and this is her most enjoyable effort yet. It certainly gives you plenty to look at while you’re sliding delicate ricotta puffs and serious steak onto your plate.
“Delicate” and “serious” are through lines on the menu. In contrast to the marquess-gone-mad room, the food at Eleven Barrack is probably the team’s most restrained. It follows a classic grill format: appetisers (including a luxurious seafood platter), starters, pasta and mains. Then you hit the headliners: shareable meats like coal-roasted Murray cod in tangy green garlic sauce, pork tomahawks and five steaks, including a butter-soft F1 wagyu T-bone in Café de Paris and jus.
The bay lobster is a strong opener. Gems of shellfish are arranged in a cut-crystal coupe, layered with dashi jelly and savoury custard. I’m pleased to see that ploughman’s platter favourite, piccalilli, make an appearance on a potato tart, though I could’ve done with more of the puckery relish. A better potato investment is a shattery-crisp skin stuffed with pommes purée and jigged up with mustard and crème fraîche. It’s got a cult-dish feel to it: the potato you have when you can’t decide between chips or mash.
The culinary somersaults that characterise the group’s other venues, like the playful fish finger bao buns from King Clarence or the subversive hot sauce duck burger from Monopole, are mostly absent (though you can get a slightly madcap croissant hot dog at Eleven Barrack’s bar).
Instead this is expert, refined cooking designed to be eaten your way. Want to settle in for four voluptuous courses? Go for it. A bowl of mafaldine and a glass of delightful Pícaro del Aguila rosé? Of course.
Eleven Barrack might be doing straight-laced things on plates but I think even a Scottish heiress would have a grand time here.
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