Left Bank

Score: 14/20

IT'S time diners fought back. We're being conditioned: told what and when to eat and drink - and how long we may experience such pleasures is a moot point, too.

Our finer dining establishments have modelled themselves into mini empires that dictate patronage to their patrons. When did special-occasion dining lose its sense of the hospitable? And why do we consent?

It's not just city sneer. Country restaurants are no less frenetic and have abruptly dispensed with old-fashioned charm. The first restaurant we phoned in Echuca wouldn't take a 7.30pm booking; we were curtly told that we could arrive at 6.30pm or 8.30pm. Was it because it was a booking for two? Did that allow us just two hours in which to spend our time and money? No thanks.

We made a booking at Left Bank in the main street. The gentleman who answered the phone was calm and charming; 7.30pm was fine.

Built in 1872 and once the Bank of NSW, Left Bank's white exterior walls, awningless facade and stately manner proffer hospitality and occasion. Inside, security bars line the windows but history has been otherwise erased by dark carpets, buttery walls, paprika-hued wainscoting and oblong mirrors.

Timber chairs with curled, wrought-iron backs, cloth-and-paper-covered tables, monogrammed wine glasses and quality crockery and cutlery create formality, while cream blinds tucked into the windows and huge overhead circles of frosted glass framed by ornate black iron add a rustic, rural edge.

It's Easter Saturday and every table is full. Service is mollifyingly efficient and a charming sommelier has delivered the wine list. It's a cool evening and we're tempted by a robust red but ask to see the menu.

We're hijacked. How about a local red? A local Stevens Brook Estate petit verdot - accompanied by an enthusiastic and accurate description - is suggested with jocularity. It was a wine we had considered, it's half the price of the one we chose and we are easily convinced.

But we have been told what to drink. And the wine is poured long before the menu is delivered.

Move on. Heads down; time to make decisions about the entrees, which are listed simply as scallops, oysters, duck, quail, oxtail ravioli and gnocchi, their descriptions beneath them. There's a little assistance, the chef has suggested the duck is best served medium rare, we are asked how we would like our mains served and whether we want any sides.
The bread is house-baked, fine of texture and thinly sliced. There's a dish of local olive oil with a tiny, puddle of balsamic vinegar at its centre. A small white dish has flakes of Maldon salt and a house-made dukkah with brilliantly fresh-roasted almonds, toasted sesame seeds, cumin and salt.

Two shot glasses arrive on a white oblong tray. Each holds a smooth potato and brown onion soup, which has been heavily decorated and spiced with black pepper. It's a soothing, warming complimentary starter.

Around us, the crowd is dressed casually. They're wearing shirts and T-shirts, lots of canvas and denim, simple jackets. Most are middle-aged, and tipping over it - grown-up families, a few couples. The acoustics are pleasant, the voices soft, polite and low. There's no one left in Melbourne. They're all up here, the sommelier tells us.

The duck ($16.80) is an oven-roasted breast, sliced into six medallions. It's pink and tender and accompanied by Asian greens consisting of a few pieces of carefully treated bok choy. Beside it is a small semicircle of pork-belly tortellini. The pasta is thin, light and tender, its filling salty and strong, the finishing citrus glaze glossy and tart.

A theme emerges - food is arriving on white oblong plates in threes. Three scallop shells contain their former inhabitants, some smoked salmon and each is topped with a roasted prawn. The smell of the prawns is evident as the dish heads to a neighbouring table. A second oblong tray with a trio of quail sides is taken to the same table. "Poor little things," says one diner. "They were silly enough to get caught," answers her companion.

The locally sourced quail ($16.80) are laid on their sides, thigh to breast across the dish, each piece resting on a coppery carrot puree. The puree is a sweet contrast to the pancetta binding, and the creamy sage and pancetta stuffing. It's a harmonious blend of flavours, textures and colours.

Chef and owner David Bowman spent a year working with Guy Grossi at Grossi Florentino and says he learnt much during long, arduous hours. He moved to Echuca working in a few of its restaurants and later travelled to Greece and Britain. Bowman and business partner, his mother Lorraine, opened Left Bank a little more than two years ago. Everything is house made, poultry is local and the beef is produced and aged by a local butcher.

My companion's aged T-bone ($27.80) is a sizeable country-style portion. He's requested it medium-rare and the tail arrives almost well-done. The meat near the bone barely meets the request, either: it's only slightly pink. A shame, it's a quality piece of meat. The caramelised shallots are perfectly cooked, the red-wine jus is impressive.

The lamb rump ($27.80), served the requested medium, arrives on a large, flat circle of porcini ravioli. The skin of the lamb has been finely scored, spiced and salted to create a flavoursome pork crackling-style crust and the flesh is meltingly tender. But its accompanying Asian greens, two pieces of bok choy, are too few; and the texture of the pasta is slightly too thick and firm. The porcini filling and the black bean sauce are good additions, adding fruity sweetness, earthiness and contrasting textures.

They haven't told us when to eat or what time to leave but the mains have arrived rapidly and the dessert list arrives promptly. We acquiesce and consider the options.

The choices are confident and creative: a mix of fruit and chocolate combinations, a souffle and a comprehensive cheese list.

The evening's special is vanilla-baked strawberries served with clotted cream. The cream has been flavoured with vanilla, too, and the cold pile of strawberries has been treated gently and holds its colour and shape well. An apple, prune and butterscotch compote ($13.50) is served according to the theme of the night - on a long white plate in three shot glasses - and topped with dense, creamy yoghurt. It's a pleasing dish and could easily be shared. It's served cold. The flavours might be stronger if the fruit was warm, with the cold yoghurt as a contrast.

We finish and comply with the rules by ordering coffee and asking for our bill. It's just after 10pm and we're leaving, the remaining few patrons are doing the same. There's no need for revolt, or rudeness. Left Bank has demonstrated that good, old-fashioned hospitality still exists in conjunction with quality dining.

Perhaps it's time we demanded that everywhere.

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.