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Bottega

John Lethlean and Reviewer

<p>Bottega: comfortable, stylish, accessible and professionally run.</p>
Bottega: comfortable, stylish, accessible and professionally run.Rodger Cummins

Italian$$$

Score: 16/20

And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down."

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-- Joni Mitchell, The Circle Game

SOMETIMES, following the movements of our better chefs, as we do here at Epicure, feels, well, just a little silly. Like watching that merry-go-round.

A domino effect of hirings and firings predicated on the irrevocable market forces of demand and supply.

Because in Australia there are 10 jobs for every hard-working, creative chef who can manage people and a budget, change happens nearly every week. Add to that the somewhat maverick, restless nature of so much of the trade and you've got at least one good recipe: it's endless grist for the gossip's mill.

Inevitably, every serious restaurant not owned by a hands-on chef will have a look at that merry-go-round, trying to work out which of the ponies is carrying its next man. Or woman. And so it was earlier this year when Daniel Schelbert left Bottega, a restaurant with a chef's hat in The Age Good Food Guide, which is another way to say among the best of the best in this state. It triggered a predictable series of appointments.

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Does it matter? Sadly, yes.

Most restaurants are managed so that the skills and ideas of the head chef can be seen on the plated product. Which is not to say there aren't star restaurants without star chefs; some of the best are powerful collaborations between management-capital and the kitchen; and they're places where the owner-operator has a strong vision for the food. It requires a head chef without ego.

But many operators - some of them superb - rely more than others on their head chefs for creative spark and individuality, creating an environment in which his or her ideas can be nurtured. Others find themselves at the mercy of complete nongs who take pride in taking the boss for a ride.

These are the people who probably shouldn't own restaurants.

I'd characterise Bottega as a partnership enterprise. When the chef changes, so does the food; the chef writes the menu but within the context of a wine-focused, relaxed restaurant run by experienced operators with a strong sense of what they're trying to achieve.

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So Riccardo Momesso's arrival as head chef is significant because here's a place with a solid clientele and a gastronomic reputation on the rise. His predecessor produced some great food and cooked with a lot of love. Do we notice a change?

Yes and no. Good news for most, I would have thought; the food's different but it is still impressive.

Momesso may have an Italian name and spirit but much of what he does is at a level of refinement and crafting way beyond conventional notions of Italian cooking. Particularly his pretty, petite entrees. And, on a couple of levels, he has something to prove.

First, he's come back to straight cooking after his year of embracing the fish and the vegetables at SOS; I'd say he's pretty happy to be cuddling up to pigs and sheep again. Second, he was head chef at Il Bacaro for about five years before a falling out over the arrival of executive chef Maurice Esposito last year. And Bottega, while not so overtly Italian, pitches squarely at the same smart, city crowd and budget.

I think he'd like to show 'em a thing or two.

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Bottega is a sound launching pad.

It is comfortable, stylish, accessible and professionally run. Service is strong, the wine list is far more serious in recent years with a big Euro component and little improvements in the facilities are manifest at each turn - new '50s red leather carvers, Schott wine glasses, a piece of art. It suggests constant attention.

We did lunch; it's cheaper by maybe 20 per cent.

And - get out your cliche detector - there is nothing on the list of starters and pasta I would not order. Quirky combinations and original thinking mean food that subtly surprises, and Momesso has the skills to execute his ideas.

Take his tartare ($16): pieces of sublime raw ocean trout jumbled with a marmalade-like, long-cooked grapefruit skin and ginger conserve. For salt and herbaciousness, there's a fairy ring on the plate of tobiko (flying-fish roe) and baby celery leaves; for garnish, there is salty-crunchy fish skin crackling (and this time, unlike SOS's version, it works).

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Or the eel ($16): first a layer of hard-boiled egg minced with chives and mustard then discs of marinated, slightly vinegary kipfler potato; the piece of smoky fillet comes next, crowned with a poppyseed fried onion ring and a micro-herb salad (he loves the curry-like flavour of shiso).

Where's the intriguing crunch factor emanating? A coarse powder made from the roasted eel bones, of course. It's labour intensive but devoid of French flourish.

The rest is, by comparison, rustic with tricks.

Quality spaghetti ($18) with a lamb, and crushed- and whole-pea ragu - full of garlic and pancetta - is sweet and sublime, the addition of quality grated pecorino amplifying the ovine theme.

A braise of beautiful, gnarly Rutherglen lamb bits (white wine, anchovy, bay leaves, all clear and pure) is finished with slow-cooked potato, lampascioni (unusual baby pickled onions from Italy) coarsely shredded truffled pecorino and a few of the chef's beloved baby shiso leaves ($29.50). The flavours are pure and refined, the portion about right for lunch.

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And the Maryland of twice-roasted duck - smothered in an espresso-dark "sauce Araba" made of duck and veal stock with coffee grinds - is superb, too. The sauce's balance of richness and bitterness is poised on a knife's edge. It comes with segments of preserved baby pears ($29). Simple and profoundly successful.

Which leaves dessert, always a highlight at this chef's former restaurants.

For me, a white chocolate semifreddo ($14.50) - despite its partners of cherry-citrus salad and an orb of vibrant, assertive Campari-ish red grapefruit sorbet - is too sweet. Marginally.

But any foodie will descend like a seagull on a chip to a carpaccio of black fig, smothered in house-made mosto cotto (a southern Italian version of vin cotto), peppered with sugared-and-baked walnut knuckles and a ball of honey ice-cream with a frozen lavender-oil garnish. Fruit, winey flavours, nuttiness, a cold dairy foil, restrained sugar - a complete, refined and original dessert.

And it is this first-quarter-to-last performance that bolsters my respect for the chef and makes me hope, despite a vested interest in the merry-go-round, that Momesso, and Bottega, can afford to ignore it for a long time to come.

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A good restaurant just got better.

Score: 1-9: Unacceptable. 10-11: Just OK, some shortcomings. 12: Fair. 13: Getting there. 14: Recommended. 15: Good. 16: Really good. 17: Truly excellent. 18: Outstanding. 19-20: Approaching perfection, Victoria's best.

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