Terre

You can tell by the name that Terre is an insider's restaurant. Terre is not the kind of label favoured by someone who's decided "restaurants, what a lark" when deciding what to do with their spare coin. Au contraire. Terre ("earth") positively squelches with the lingua franca of the hospitality industry.

It's a kissing cousin of terroir, a ridiculously fashionable gastronomic term I can't for the life of me pronounce (sort of like "tear-wah", overlaid with an outrageous French accent). It was a wine term first; the notion that the stuff in the bottle carries the very essence of the land in which the vines were planted. Recently, it seems to have mutated into a romantic foodie carry-all, closely related to locavorism.

And so it turns out to be that the people behind Terre are indeed industry stalwarts. Their business union sprung from the heyday of Dunkeld's Royal Mail Hotel, where Rowan and Janine Herrald cooked under Dan Hunter, and Clinton Trevisi oversaw the floor with dignified aplomb.

After various interceding culinary adventures they find themselves in Tuerong on the Mornington Peninsula with the lease to the restaurant at Dromana Estate winery in their collective hands. The old white homestead is handsome without being intimidating, surrounded by lawn, an Edna Walling-designed garden, and a sweet patio for dining alfresco when the mercury nudges up. For the moment you'd be insane not to head inside to the sandstone-clad open fire, the focal point of a broad, neutral-toned room that could be torn from the pages of Martha Stewart Living.

They write a good menu, too. A menu I want to eat. Things such as "today's fish, parsnip, coffee, citrus, carrot, coriander", which sounds like an interesting and slightly risky combination of ingredients. After experiencing the kitchen's wherewithal, I fully expect it's delicious. And just try "foie gras brulee" as a direct entry point to the self-respecting glutton's heart. Indeed, it turns out to be a clever way of putting a new spin on an old stager. Do I want a sweet exoskeleton of toffeed crunch on my foie gras parfait? Turns out I do. The parfait's livery punch could have been a little less diluted, but the dark caramel crust makes a sturdy bridge to the prosciutto-like duck ham with radicchio and pomegranate.

Rowan Herrald is in charge of the savoury side, and his menu is a sort of classic/contemporary Australian with little Mediterranean flourishes. It's refined but not overworked; beautifully presented and with a spot-on balance of seasoning. For someone lazy like me it's good to let the kitchen shoulder the responsibility for something such as the bursts of lemon giving citrussy sparkle to a nettle and buckwheat "risotto". I'm not entirely sold on buckwheat's inherently soft texture, but a single king prawn wallowing on top has the firm-mattress spring of the quality crustacean, and fried saltbush leaves lend their whispery crunch.

Mains celebrate the consolations of winter. Braised goat, pressed into a dense brick of dark-hued deliciousness, is surrounded by soft frisbees of semolina gnocchi, glazed chestnuts and wilted cavolo nero. A glossy spill of the reduced cooking juices, bright with cinnamon and juniper, laps the plate. A brilliantly substantial vego dish stars jerusalem artichokes roasted into golden-skinned submission, pine mushrooms, cannellini beans, preserved artichoke, creamy thick celeriac puree and a moody shroud of parmesan froth.

Desserts are fully fleshed things (they're Janine Herrald's area of expertise), but spill over into busy. A lovely lemon tart that's not really a tart (you can tell because the menu calls it a "tart"), balanced on that knife-edge between sour and sweet, is surrounded by a pretty tableaux of meringue, candied fennel and coconut sorbet that doesn't add much.

I don't know where the lemons were from, or the prawns, for that matter, or the goat. The menu is quiet on that stuff, although Trevisi's got the information at his fingertips, if you feel like testing him. The likely answer is that it is local, and organic, and all those other comforting buzzwords. But with a name like Terre, you already knew that, didn't you?

THE LOWDOWN
The best bit The consolations of winter
The worst bit Overly fussy desserts
Go-to dish Jerusalem artichoke, mushrooms, celeriac, parmesan, $34

Twitter: @LarissaDubecki

How we score
Of 20 points, 10 are awarded for food, five for service, three for ambience, two for wow factor.
12 Reasonable 13 Solid and satisfactory 14 Good 15 Very good 16 Seriously good 17 Great 18 Excellent 19 Outstanding 20 The best of the best.

Restaurants are reviewed again for The Age Good Food Guide and scores may vary.

The Age Good Food Guide 2015 is $10 with The Saturday Age on August 30 from participating newsagents, while stocks last. It will also be available in selected bookshops and online at theageshop.com.au for $24.99. #goodfoodguide