Northern Light

There was a time when Aussie-Asian food meant prawn crackers for ''entree'' followed by beef in black bean sauce, lemon chicken and, for dessert, fried ice-cream. There are still plenty of Chinese Emperor Jade Dragon Palaces catering for those passions, but a whole new genre of Aussie-Asian has slipped its moorings and taken off in a bold new direction.

It's working off a script no less invented than those ''authentic'' Chinese dishes, but the new AA is smarter, savvier and better travelled. Now that the dreaded concept of fusion has been Tasered and hung up in a museum to marvel at (''Mummy, they did WHAT?'') there are more chefs willing to give it a go. Ethnicity doesn't matter. It's more a state of mind.

I don't really think it's a coincidence that the new Aussie-Asian has landed at a time when dining has recalibrated its attitude to a whole bunch of important things, such as noise, comfort and cutlery. It's cooking for a new generation of restaurant-goers who might not identify the places they're visiting as a ''restaurant'' so much as a bar with food. Or even an ''eatery'', as Northern Light proclaims itself, a wishy-washy term that says everything you need to know about the new commitment-phobia.

The chef and co-owner, Adam Liston, cooked in Shanghai for a couple of years and has an eclectic CV running all the way from conservative winery to progressive restaurant. And now here he is on Smith Street, with the ginger beard and tatts to prove it.

It's on the site of Gigibaba, the fabulous and mercurial place that disappeared in a puff of smoke last year. The fitout largely remains the same - the name, Northern Light, is a reference to the forest of dangling lightbulbs - and the white marble bar has sensibly been left alone. The most important change is that it takes bookings, so you can no longer expect to navigate by the crowd of forlorn hopefuls waiting out the front (you'll find them a few doors down at Huxtaburger).

Liston does a mean prawn cracker, by the way. The familiar salmon-pink puffs, made in-house with tapioca, are topped with a meaty dollop of chilli-prawn in yuzu mayo. There's another seaweed mayo on top. He certainly loves his eggs. A boiled, golden-fried egg has its soft-centreed richness arrested by a tumble of heat-licked onion and a sprinkle of furikake (nori, sesame and chilli); fried shallots and a slosh of caramel dressing round out the Thai inspiration.

Many dishes are lively, bordering on aggressive. You might find yourself unexpectedly mugged by a delicate-looking plate of diced calamari and apple, bound in yuzu mayo, toasted nori wafers artfully propped alongside, but the subtle sprinkling of yuzu powder amps it up to 11. Skewers from the binchotan grill include shiitakes soaked in ponzu, the charcoal seeping into their very DNA, the black sesame mayo giving as good as it gets. Lamb ribs have a Sichuan treatment with a mouth-whomping master stock and chilli braise with soft swatches of red pepper. Subtle? No, but really satisfying, although a simple dish of gai lan with fried bean curd and podded edamame gets lost in comparison.

The size of the place - it's a compact 38-seater, including the bar stools - means the professionalism of a few key staff isn't diluted by a bunch of lesser lights. Co-owner Glen Bagnara (ex-Chester White) and manager Emily Pullen are all over it, muddling cocktails, uttering the words ''I've got something really interesting to go with that'' with unerring frequency. If this is an eatery, it's certainly one with restaurant values.

Take Liston's now-signature of wagyu bresaola with a gribiche-like aioli bristling with fresh wasabi and horseradish, a thicket of fried potato, and sorrel leaves. Gosh, it's smart. Even dessert gets the elephant stamp for its elegant mix of yuzu curd with milk jam, broken gingerbread and compressed frozen apple.

That said, palate implosion is a real possibility here. All those bullish flavours say ''eatery''. But the level of accomplishment says ''restaurant''. Maybe eateries are just restaurants in casual clothes. Especially on Smith Street. Anyway, quibbles about nomenclature aside, it's important to acknowledge the underlying truth - sometimes life just looks better from a bar stool.

THE LOWDOWN
The best bit Tasty. Really tasty.
The worst bit It veers towards heavy.
Go-to dish Air-dried Blackmore wagyu, yolk, wasabi, potato, $19

Twitter: @LarissaDubecki or email: ldubecki@fairfaxmedia.com.au