Gaslight Bistro

Is there any other time in history when it's been more dispiriting to be a restaurateur than right now? It seems it's no longer enough to have a nice venue, decent chef and imaginative menu – you need a gimmick. Your own salted caramel, cronut-topped Instagrammable rainbow-coloured milkshake.

Thankfully, there are still a few rare venues that don't pimp their food and sell their souls to social media; Gaslight Bistro among them.

Housed in a cottage that looks far more Paddington than New Farm, a verandah wraps around the restaurant, overlooking Brunswick Street and the neon-lit cinemas. There are potted fan palms and a cushioned banquette, as well as higher tables and stools. Inside, within cream and jade tongue-in-groove walls, is more seating and a bar. It's casual, homely and very Queensland.

Gaslight is the second venue for the trio of owners behind Hoo Har Bar in South Brisbane. The same principles seem to be in operation: honest contemporary food with accompaniments often made in-house and a focus on local trade, exemplified by the well-priced, regulars-friendly menu.

The drinks list displays the same generosity too, with bottles averaging $45 and our Nero D'Avola sliding in under $40. There are five craft beers on tap, a couple by the bottle, and a concise cocktail list.

The menu is divided into small, share and sweet sections, with black and white sesame-speckled pate-filled profiteroles the pick of the former.

Interestingly, mutton features on the menu. I can't remember seeing the meat on a Brisbane menu before, and don't think I've eaten it since a child (and even then, reluctantly) but this is a game changer and I'd certainly come back for another serve.

Rather than the fatty, slightly rancid, overly sheepy smell and taste I remember from childhood, the mutton (a backstrap) is robustly flavoured but tender, the meat a deeper pink than lamb and expertly sealed with just a little natural crusted caramelisation. It's also perfectly seasoned.

The sliced fillet is served over a puddle of macadamia milk scattered with jewel-like pomegranate arils and topped by small pieces of deep-fried cauliflower and rosemary sprigs.

Beef brisket has become ubiquitous, and it's hard to stand out, but Gaslight's does. Not just for the al minute precision of the cooking, nor the presentation, but for the accoutrements: tutu-pink petals of kohlrabi, gently pickled and dusted with the finest shavings of horseradish, and a creamy swirl of house-smoked oyster mayonnaise.

It could be so horribly wrong, but the sum of the dish's parts – the gentle sweet-sour from the pickles, the unctuousness of the meat and the rich smokiness of the mayonnaise with just the faintest delicious trace of oyster – are done with restraint which elevates it to something special.

Real petals appear with our dessert, a chocolate fondant with rose, buffalo yoghurt and honeycomb. Properly gooey, not overly sweet and delicately pretty, it scores well apart from the yoghurt, which is a little curdy and sour and doesn't have the creamy texture we'd expected.

Gaslight is the kind of local we all wish we had within walking distance. But on a midweek evening it was almost empty, which is unfathomable. Really Brisbane, we need to stop chasing the fleeting, freaky, 15-minutes-of-fame dishes that give us Facebook followers, and support venues like this who are in it for the right reasons.