Automata

I'm not sold on this Chippendale revitalisation. The Kensington Street and Central Park developments that have been unfolding under Sydney's snozz for the last few years. I had dreams of car-free streets and late-trading butchers. Wine bars you want drink at and dumplings to cross town for. Dreams of long nights. Laughter! Good times! Fun!

However, most of the offerings feel forced and clingy. Like a partner who joins in on league talk at the pub but wouldn't know Sam Burgess from a Sherrin.

Automata gives me hope the area will become something Sydney can be proud of, though. Chef Clayton Wells' restaurant opened at The Old Clare complex in September and it was one of Good Food's hottest new venues of 2015 for its "darkly glamorous five-course degustation". It also has a bar.

It's not a comfortable bar, mind. The graphite-grey benchtop is brutal and cold, with a starkness amplified by interrogation-room lighting. You could think the bar didn't want you perched at one of its four non-cushioned stools, except any Scando rawness is swiftly warmed by a young, chatty, professional floor team led by restaurant manager Abby Meinke.

The seven-item carte changes almost as often the headline menu, so kingfish with creme fraiche, plum and yuzu koshu ($22) from a few weeks ago has made way for malt-pickled egg with onions, black garlic and a sprig of thyme ($12). Burrata injected with shellfish oil ($18) is more of a mainstay. Pierce the creamy white mozz and step back as shiny orange goodness puddles the plate to be daubed with bread. Oils ain't oils unless they've seen a prawn head.

My favourite, though, is a plinth of smooth-as-silk blood cake with brandy, apples, black pepper and nutmeg. Team it with a ruggedly handsome rosé and drift off to the land of hedges, county cricket and afternoon naps.   

Head sommelier and van Gogh lookalike competition-winner Tim Watkins has crafted a highly drinkable wine list led by minimal intervention practices and tales of terroir. Fourteen drops are available by the glass. The beer, cider, sake, spirit and digestif selection is equally en pointe. 

I order the Frank and Bernie ($18) from a small list of house cocktails and its straight-up Sidecar mix of Francois Voyer cognac, Bertrand triple sec and lemon juice is as boozy as it is refreshing.

Now, I bet you'll want to hit up Automata's bar before dinner somewhere else. Somewhere newer. Somewhere the wait staff know as much about the menu as Siri does about the life expectancy of Schrodinger's cat ("Let me just check that for you") and chefs turn innocent fish into slimy tranches of lukewarm Havaiana. Probably somewhere on the same block.

Sod that. Make it your first and last destination for a smorgasbord of snacks and the Watkins wine library. And if you do find yourself keen for a few frothers afterwards, The Crystal Palace (aka the area's last great pub), is open opposite Central for Reschs-based desserts. Now that's my Chippendale/Haymarket/Broadway precinct.

Go for … burrata.

Stay for … sake.

Drink … the Frankie and Bernie.

And … the name is pronounced to rhyme with "thermometer", but AutoTomato is an acceptable variation.