Evenings that begin with one glass.

A small room at the end of the lane, lit mostly by candles.

We keep a list of around four hundred bins — leaning natural, but never dogmatic. Small growers from the Macedon Ranges and the Adelaide Hills sit beside old Barolo and grower Champagne, and about forty of them are open by the glass on any given night. If you tell us what you usually drink, we’ll pour you something a little to the left of it.

The kitchen works a short menu until late — oysters, anchovy toast, a few plates that change with the market. No bookings for the bar, no music above a murmur, and the kind of lighting that makes everyone look like they’re keeping a secret.