Rockpool Bar & Grill

Walking into Rockpool Bar & Grill for the first time is a small piece of theatre, and that is before any food has arrived.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: 1936 art-deco banking hall, brass everywhere. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with a single chuleta of cured pork to set the mood, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a glass of port to finish, and then another, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: cape grim grass-fed sirloin, the dish that puts Rockpool Bar & Grill on every short list. It arrived faintly hissing on a heated plate, the kind of small detail that tells you the kitchen still cares about the last twenty seconds before service. The signature touch — Neil Perry's full-spread room — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for asparagus with hollandaise and hash browns the size of a hubcap. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was a wedge of chocolate cake to share, fork divided, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

Some places earn their reputation. Rockpool Bar & Grill earns it twice over.