Review: Sean's is Sydney's favorite farmhouse kitchen by the sea
| Address | 270 Campbell Parade View map | |
|---|---|---|
| Feature | Accepts reservations, BYO, Licensed, Outdoor seating, View, Private dining | |
| Price | Medium ($20-$40 electricity) | |
| Phone | 02 9365 4924 | |
Sean is Sean’s is Sean’s. The eccentric charm of honeycomb tile floors, seashell lamps, tiny chalkboards streaked with wine, and striped tables combine to transport you to another world.
But the panorama across the street is pristine Bondi Beach, with surfers chasing the waves from Ben Buckler.
Little and much has changed since Sean Moran and Michael (Manoo) Robertson opened Sean’s Panaroma, as it is known, in 1993.
Beet salad. Photo: James Alcock
Crazy little covered veranda space for a restaurant then and now; it’s a farmhouse kitchen by the sea that feels warmly welcoming; comfortable in its own skin.
No longer a la carte, it does the next best thing by offering options across mains, mains and desserts for $100. So sit back and marvel at the beachcomber beauty of tiny sea shells of sea salt, olive oil and butter, and a bowl of crunchy little radishes and mauve carrots in black olive rubble.
Already, there is a sense of simplicity, color, the eye of an artist. During the lockdown, Moran posted an Instagram photo showing each daily takeaway menu framed with fruits and vegetables like Arcimboldo, to lift his spirits and ours. More art hangs on the pegboard walls, but it is the room itself that is the actual artist’s work.
Pork wrapped in salami, leek and rabbit terrine with celeraic and rice crackers. Photo: James Alcock
When not playing with his food, Sean cooks it, next to head chef Sam Robertson. It’s simple things that feel natural, uncomplicated and real; equally responsive to the seasons and changing supplies and shifting obsessions.
The beets hide in the pits of ruby red radicchio leaves, topped with a rich yogurt sauce. There was the rattling of tiny golden balls of panisse chickpeas, and the sting of grated turnips.
Soft salami surrounds a round of pork, leek and rabbit terrine, offset by a few mouthfuls of celeriac remoulade, and some tasteless brown rice crackers.
The brined and grilled chicken is legendary. Photo: James Alcock
After nearly 30 years, Sean’s marinated and grilled chicken has become a true legend; non-negotiable for the legion remains. Today’s chickens hail from Little Hill Farm in the Hunter Valley, where the pasture-raised birds are watched over by Maremma’s two dogs.
Framed by a large white plate, it can be exhibited next to Vermeer’s still life, entitled Sunday Roast. Herb-scented pale breasts are neatly carved (no hard-to-eat pieces here); baked potatoes and sweet parsnips wrapped in golden crunch; the tangle of wilted vegetables and puddles of gravy brought color and contrast, light and shade.
Murray cod makes a great alternative, served with a crispy skin, topped with deep red and gold rainbow chard sticks and – always, crunchy – potato roesti.
Murray cod, rainbow radish and fennel. Photo: James Alcock
There was a basket of bread, and also garlic-licked broccolini. Yes, you will eat too much, but how often do you get this straightforward, elegant and nurturing meal? I think cooking is better now than ever.
When you sign up for the three course format, you can’t skip dessert because you’re already full. Hurray! That means you won’t miss the nutmeg-topped pudding and roasted rhubarb that comes straight from the nursery through the boarding school.
This is one of the few places that offers cheese without supplements. Today, it’s Milawa Blue, Tasmania’s famous Pyengana woven cheddar, and Tully’s Gold, a soft, ripe cheese from Gippsland, laid out on a tray with rosy Missile apple, quince paste and walnuts in the shell. Pick your cheese and it comes back coated with all of those things and a handful of bird seed crackers.
Jenny’s baked pudding with boiled rhubarb. Photo: James Alcock
On the floor, Sara Caddeo and Ben Pritchard somehow arranged three seats for lunch (afternoon, 2pm and, usually but popularly, 4pm) and two seats for unhurried dinner.
It’s not all nirvana – a few small tables are clamped awkwardly into corners as if punished for misbehaving, and the kitchen tumbles and shatters past serve just yards away. But the important thing now, as always, is that Sean’s is Sean’s. If anything, it was even more so than Sean.
low-down
Atmosphere Farmhouse kitchen by the sea
Main dish Grilled chicken with oregano, cavolo nero and parsnips
Drink Mostly Australian boutique wines by the glass, plus traditional beers and balanced cocktails.
Terry Durack is the chief restaurant critic for Sydney Morning Herald and senior reviewers for Good Food Guide.
https://seansbondi.com/
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