In A New Quay

Quay 2.0 bridges the gap between luxuries old and new like no other fine diner.

- Pat Nourse

“Wow! It’s just not us!” commented @danniellemills. “Mmmmmm for a $4 million upgrade expected a lot more,” @paul_kwong_47 chimed in. Most damning of all was @fisnow: “Is there a salad bar?”

So went the comments on previews of Quay’s new interiors on Instagram in July. They speak of a sense of ownership. These punters don’t just cry out when the chef retires his snow egg from the dessert menu, they want to know where their damn tablecloths are.

But push through the door and those Sizzler comparisons melt away in a rush of lush textures and careful comforts. A whisper of a tart shell laden with shiitake custard and dusted with pork crackling. A silken savoury custard draped with gleaming sea urchin roe. Sand crab and melting strands of squid with a grilled cabbage spine, the leaf of the same cabbage, fermented and dried, turned into a translucent pane that shimmers like the wing of a dragonfly. Yes, the olive uniforms are unfortunate. And yes, serving a course with long metal tweezers is clunky. But the new Quay unlocks new levels of pleasure.

Palm heart and lotus seeds provide the sublime textural contrast in a bowl of “hand-harvested” seafood: filmy sheets of raw scallop, vongole and curls of octopus that are almost heartbreaking in their daintiness. Aged vinegar and seaweed in the dressing give it oomph. And it’ll be better still served without tweezers.