Chulo Bar De Tapas

"I knew you wouldn't like it!" says possibly the most cavalier waiter in St Kilda.

This might not be the coolest follow-up from a guy who has offered the world's jammiest grenache when questioned about white wines, stared into the middle distance when asked if the torrontes is fruity, then poured a whole glass instead of a taste (it's a tropical fruit salad, in case you're wondering).

But it is, to be fair, something that may have happened to you in a backstreet Spanish bodega.

Score one, I guess, for authenticity at Chulo Bar de Tapas, a new St Kilda tapas bar by a chef with good credentials and a green yet impressively confident crew.

Step over the debris of the footpath to enter a room with echoes of MoVida. Take away Frank Camorra's tchotchkes, add a flamenco dancer's knickers in mural form and it's a similarly pared-back wood-panelled room, championing a central tiled bar.

Flashes of primary colours and wine bottles channel Barcelona. Tables are tall and tight, which makes it amusing that half the dishes arrive searing hot with instructions not to touch. The warning, you'll discover, is apt.

It is almost hard to remember a time when eating as you're meant to here – pulling up a stool for small plates and jamon, then big hunks of meat or fish scorched on the Josper grill – used to feel specifically Spanish. You could be at any Melbourne wine bar, only here there is no burrata, nor, in Spanish-style, almost anything green.

Instead it's Spain's gifts to eaters and sailors everywhere – piles of jamon Iberico; tins of dark anchovies served with just a fork and some good bread, more anchovies, laid along a lacy rye cracker with pinstripes of romesco – that red capsicum based sauce – and aioli like a crisp, salty flag.

Maybe you heard chef-owner Pablo Diaz cut his teeth at San Sebastian's Arzak as a teen, and ran a few places in Buenos Aires. Yet there is no great push towards cheffing up dishes. The escabeche, twin fingers of salmon that are lightly salty and buttery soft instead of pickle-bright and dressed with paper-thin radishes, is as tweezery as things get.

There are juicy, charry chunks of chicken thigh loaded on skewers with lots of lemon, and oregano. Their molletes – the English muffins of Spain – are more of a slider situation, and a chewy one at that, though it's a tasty sambo starring roast pork belly, jamon and aioli.

Save a burn and skip the unremarkable paella in its own skillet. The best part is the fat grilled prawn garnish and you can get those on their own. I would probably swap a giant vodka, orange and prosecco cocktail for straight Estrella beers too.

Revolutionary isn't the word most likely to jump to mind here. But beef short rib, minus the rib, is a sticky and easy-to-like hunk of meat, glossy and sprinkled with crisp shallots over a creamy celeriac mash. Portions of octopus tentacle with powdery slabs of grilled potato and purple tuber crisps are fine. Citrus-doused cauliflower might be even better if cooked wholly in the oven rather than par boiled, thinning out the flavour.

Our bunyols – doughnut balls of whose pronunciation you'll be corrected by that same smooth waiter (seriously, what a guy!) – with bitter-sweet chocolate hazelnut sauce that is nothing like Nutella (to its credit or detriment depending where you stand), have to go back for another dunk in the fryer, but in their doughy state you really taste the eight-hour fermentation. They are probably a great analogy for Chulo Bar de Tapas – an attractive proposition that needs a little extra cooking.