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 Offering modern Australian fare with flair, it’s little wonder that Rocket has taken off, writes Nick Dent.
Fish on bicycles have looked more graceful than a confirmed inner-city denizen like myself emerging from Chatswood Station, blinking and shivering. I couldn’t find my arse with both hands this far north, let alone a mod Oz fine diner. Having walked past Rocket a couple of times the penny finally drops, and we make our way up the escalator, away from those blood-freezing North Shore winds that seem to howl: “Townies! Townies!”
Rocket occupies an unprepossessing corporate block on a none-too-pretty street, but makes up for it with a nice interior fitout and an extra warm welcome. It opened last year under the kitchen auspices of Wayne Rowe. Rowe’s sous chef, Richard Allsop, has since taken over head chef duties, inheriting a top-flight menu and injecting a little of his own classical French background. Allsop likes his froggy flourishes but is careful not to weigh the menu down with red meats and heavy sauces; seafood is a big part of what he does.
An entrée of ocean trout ($22), for instance, is briefly smoked in-house with beechwood and then warmed in the oven. Its lovely woody tang is mollified by watercress, sliced asparagus and miso dressing; segments of orange complete the picture, both for the tongue and the eye.
Chefs often feel the need to compose quail like a modern art masterpiece because it’s dainty. Allsop is no exception. So with the two halves of quail breast ($20) there’s a vanilla infused desiree potato cut into a cylinder, with a sculptural, twice-cooked, deep fried quail egg on top and olive-rich tomato vinaigrette splashed around the plate in artful swooshes. It may look a little fancy, but it’s basically a hearty, flavour-packed entrée.
A shallow bowl of yellow-brown bouillabaisse ($36) has three rare mussels; two fat, seared Canadian scallops for sweetness; and a chunk of john dory for good measure. Like an island in the centre of this saffron sea sits a mouthwatering crumbed cake of prawn and champagne risotto. Neptune himself couldn’t ask for a more concentrated hit of fine ocean flavours.
For vegetarians, there’s the pavé: a crumbed lasagne of capsicum, zucchini, eggplant, and basil on a pepperonata of red capsicum. The arty inclinations resurface in the accompanying 10 geometrically perfect dots of rouille, but this is otherwise an exercise in just letting great vegetables taste like themselves.
The dessert menu offers a deconstructed version of rocky road ($15). A narrow stick of marshmallow, pistachio, macadamia and raspberry jelly is flanked by vanilla bean icecream and purple dashes of blueberry compôte. Hilariously, a narrow twirl of chocolate swoops across the plate as if someone had drawn it in the air with a paintbrush. You’d have to call this the rocky road less travelled.
Rocket’s largely French wine list includes a 2004 Domaines Schlumberger Pinot Blanc from Alsace ($51). This clean, crisp, gently floral white did not overpower anything, and as its Gallic charms settled over us we got the happy impression we were in the northeast of France somewhere, rather than a gloomy part of Chatswood where I would probably never go were it not for great restaurants like Rocket.
No problems here, Houston.
Rocket
1-5 Railway Street,
Chatswood
Tel: 9411 8233
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