George Calombaris's Gazi is Greek with a stylish twist

"That was a fantastic meal," says the guy next to me, signing off on the kind of sober lunch the Tax Office should have no issues with, all work, work, work.

But as lunch drew to an end over Greek coffee and Turkish delight, cut from a giant ruby cake riddled with pistachios and hazelnuts, talk turns to food. That's the beauty of a communal table, in this case a big slab of black steel overlooking the Gazi kitchen; the eavesdropping.

"That has restored my faith in George Calombaris," he says. "Last time I came here it was all about dry ice and showmanship... And the food was insanely ordinary."

Greek food is not all about that mythical sand-underfoot taverna.

That's the thing about stardom. While GC is nowhere to be seen (although he was working the room like a Catskills comedian two nights before), everyone knows Gazi is his new restaurant. Live by the sword...

Gazi is nothing if not an astute swerve to avoid a collision with redundancy. The Press Club (Mark One) had run its race. And in the time between opening and closing it, GC had become something of a star. It sure helps put bums on seats, although with mainstream television success comes a particular kind of bum.

Just don't come here expecting a taverna. GC already has one of those - Hellenic Republic - with chargrilled octopus, pita off the grill, lamb with yoghurt. Gazi is a far more urban experience, conceived for a new generation of Calombaris fans.

Hence we have banquet options such as "Doing it Greek style" and "Bend over box". Wink, wink. We have a starters section called "Hellenic dirty food". We have a souvlakakia with pork, onion, parsley, tzatziki and chips. Yep, chips, inside. And a website that tells us: "No booze session is complete without a good feed."

Indeed, Gazi is a good place for a drink. The selection of dips (beetroot, tarama, skorthalia, all with a twist) and a basket of tepid pita is a convivial way to approach the consumption of Greek beer, ouzo and wine. GC continues to shine a light on the dark place that is Australian appreciation of Greek vino.

But Gazi's food is more commerce than cuisine. On a busy night, I got the impression some of it had done the rounds before arriving, the liveliness just diminished. And for me, too much is crumbed and fried, although the lambs' brains, on a creamy mix of onion and eggplant, pickled grape halves and fresh dill, make a fairly compelling case for crumbing and frying.

And the smoked sardine, with a sort of agrodolce beetroot, tomato and pine nut compote, and seed mustard celeriac remoulade, is sweet and salty with a hint of smoke, a cracking snack.

I'd also go straight to the silver dory - if it's on - simply chargrilled, smothered in a pleasing walnut dressing with wedges of lemon. I've had this twice (in the same week); Gazi buys good seafood. Braised prawns with currants and soused raisins are nice, too.

But the village salad is a jumble of wettish cooked and raw veg, nuts and seeds that leaves my palate a bit confused; the cuttlefish I desire, straight from the chargrill, is in fact another composed "salad".

And desserts, which sound pretty cool on paper ("Pavlova - mastic, ruby red grapefruit curd, cream" or "Risogalo - rice pudding puree, banana, chocolate, rose, smoked almonds, salted caramel") are pretty forgettable, the former a rubbery mould of an Ionic (or is that ironic?) column, the latter a kind of stoner's banoffee pie mess in a jar.

I get what George is up to here; Greek food is not all about that mythical sand-underfoot taverna. But for me, Gazi is a little too much gimmick, not enough guts (although a tripe dish with lemon and olive is well worth asking for - it's not on the menu). Needless to say, Gazi is going gangbusters.

Gazi
2 Exhibition Street, Melbourne, (03) 9207 7444
Hours: Lunch, dinner daily
Typical prices: Starters $13; mains $25; desserts $13
Summary: Urban renewal
Like this? Try: Hellenika, Gold Coast; The Apollo, Sydney
Rating: 3 out of 5

Source: The Australian, 31 August 2013