Charcoal

Charcoal is beyond retro. A steakhouse that's been nearly untouched since it opened more than 50 years ago on London Circuit, in easy walking distance of barristers' chambers and Civic's public service brigade. Duck under the New York-style awning with the restaurant name printed in elaborate font, and push the front door open to the height of 1960s Canberra chic. 

It's a narrow restaurant with a long mirror down one wood-panelled wall to expand the space and rows of tables with upholstered burgundy seats lit by petal-shaped lamps. Even the ceiling is textured. Tonight – with a weekend approaching – it's full and not just with older diners. 

The time-warp menu must surely perform two functions - a comforting touchstone for those who remember the '60s and a wonderland of discovery for those of the iPhone generation. There are two kinds of omelettes for entree, there is prawn cocktail, there is beef stroganoff "when available" and so much meat.  The wine list is weighty and tends towards the classic. As we're neither a gaggle of silks on a long lunch nor senior public servants doing business, we skip the Penfolds and order a bottle of Surveyor's Hill shiraz.

But you're never going to get deep-fried camembert anywhere else in this city so it's the first order of business tonight – a huge croquette which, once cracked, oozes with rich, creamy cheese. It's served on a lettuce leaf and accompanied by water crackers fanned around a crock of plain redcurrant jelly. "Astounding," says one of my friends, dipping cracker into melted cheese and then into jelly. 

Seafood crepe is well cooked in a pool of creamy sauce. It's stuffed with prawns, fish, mussels and a couple of tentacles which are nicely seasoned but a little firm.

Steaks are what the good ol' boys come to Charcoal for and these don't disappoint – a perfect mix of charry and juicy and tender, delivered by chef Timothy Burden exactly as requested by the diner. Everyone who ordered it gets a sauceboat full of Diane or pepper sauce and jacket potatoes with a dab of sour cream come with every dish. The carpetbag steak is satisfyingly rare and the oyster is almost poached in the juices in the middle. The oyster flavour has, as promised, imbued the beef.  A chicken kiev is more mixed – perfectly cooked chicken breast with melting butter inside a crumb shell that seems lacklustre and a little soft. 

Desserts are equally unscathed by the ravages of time. A vanilla-flavoured steamed pudding is golden and fruity under a cape of homespun custard, like Jean Harlow swaddled against a cold LA night, although it's also oddly tepid (the pudding, not the actress).

A creme de menthe chocolate mousse comes in a height-of-cool, not-ironic martini glass, piped nearly to the brim with rich chocolate and drowning happily in a pool of emerald liqueur. Spoon it up at leisure.

Aeropress and cold brew addicts will probably be aghast to learn all the after-dinner coffee is plunger-only, but it does come with a long list of liqueur flavourings – a Mexican coffee is spiked with Kahlua and served in a tall glass with a topping of whipped cream dusted with chocolate flakes. 

When Charcoal went on the market earlier this year (for only the second time in its 52 year history) owner David Ramage said the steakhouse had good standards for its food but didn't pretend to be haute cuisine. It's an accurate assessment – the steaks are beefy brilliance and the vintage dishes are both novelty and nostalgia without pretension. Thanks to the atmosphere and the care that clearly goes into maintaining those standards, tonight Charcoal has allowed us the chance to be tourists in Canberra's culinary past.