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The Gordon Ramsay deal is still in it’s early days. At least that’s the Crown Casino corporate line. For the moment Bistro Guillaume is the final jewel in the crown up with (in reverse order of opening) Giuseppe, Arnaldo & Sons, Nobu and Rockpool Bar and Grill.
Inevitably Ramsay stomping into Melbourne means that somebody, probably another restaurant, has to be kicked out of Crown to make way. Now there are two French places only separated only by Nobu and the difference between a brasserie (by Philippe Mouchel), a bistro and the prices charged.
I wonder where that leaves Phillippe Mouchel a disciple of Paul Bocuse?
On the ‘phone last week Crown’s official spokesman last week wouldn’t be drawn.
But enough speculation. This is about Guillaume Brahimi, from the Joel Robuchon corner, and his new bistro which is considerably posher than it’s name suggests.

If you don’t know Brahimi you should. Le coq sportif, rugby mainly, I think I first ate his food at Quay in Sydney. I was with a couple of feminists from Saatchi and Saatchi and we “had to eat” the Joel Robuchon mashed potato, my first attempt in Australia, an exercise as much about carbs as butter.
Guillaume at Bennelong, his Sydney restaurant, is inside the most famous Australian icon of them all, the Opera House. And despite the location and the view, the food is exceptional, as are the prices.
Back in Melbourne, the new restaurant, Bistro Guillaume is beautiful. It looks French, Parisian, and at night with my glasses off I could even imagine the the little brown creek known as the Yarra to be the Seine. Well, that may be pushing it a bit but I could have been in France.
The detail in the finishes at Guillaume is extraordinary, everything including the marble being proper and solid. The floors are wooden of the French herringbone design. Dividing the main diner are a curious and elegant marble and wood bar supporting a lamp with old-fashioned woven style wiring in red. The ceiling lights are shading by these wonderful puff ball style pantaloons.

I like it a lot. But as Jak, who some readers will be relieved doesn’t have the salty language of my other dining partner, keeps reminding me, the prices are restaurant rather than bistro. The Herald Sun tells us Guillaume has invested $250,000 of his own money in wine (one bottle worth near $9,000) and another $140,000 on chairs.
And the food and wine?
French classics and I love them. Coming from the UK, my holidays were spent in France or I travelled there for business or love - Paris (she was in Montparnasse), Brittany, Normandy, Loire Valley, once tortured by Catholic monks somewhere south of Orleans (education my parents thought) and later the south (work) and the Savoie (for the pleasure of ski-ing to a good meal).
The point is French food is probably my biggest cultural food reference point. While my mates were at the soccer, I was hanging out at Le Gavroche, Le Boulestin, L’Escargot, La Tante Claire and several dozen other French restaurants.

So I couldn’t resist the Hunter Valley snails at $21 for six. On an elegant frosted platter they were tender with beurre persillé - parsley butter. Jak went for the plate of Guillaume’s crudités. Lesser restaurants often present a plate of raw vegetables with a couple of dips. Here classics are elegantly crafted. A balanced celeriac rémoulade sits firmly on a slice of toast. Sauce Gribiche sits atop tender young leeks. Properly ripe tomato slices sit a top similarly ripe slice of avocado. And finally a few baby herbs are tangled with chunks of beetroot, croutons and goat’s curd.
I am boring perhaps but I went for the steak frites with a béarnaise at $35. It was just what I expected and cooked perfectly.
Jak chose what must be the most expensive fish and chips in Melbourne at $45, a sculptural whole deboned whiting supported by a thick scaffold of pommes Pont-Neuf, basically railway sleeper like chips cooked in goose fat.
Although I love string-like fries I wouldn’t have minded some of these with my steak, tasting of real fresh spuds. This is a rarity nowadays although I do wonder if they could have been a little more crisp.
Finally there was a thick slice of lemon tart. The balance of sweet and citrus as it should and the pastry properly cooked, brown and toasty to taste. I defy you to find a better example in Melbourne.
We drank wines by the glass and I didn’t skimp on cost although two champagnes were complimentary after we pointed out they weren’t on the bill. Guillaume, who was chatting with Neil Perry on this first night, offered us another glass and an Armanac after we’d paid and it seemed impolite to refuse. To make up for it we left a hefty tip.

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