The room was almost empty when I walked in.
Toorak Road. A new restaurant, one or two months old. Twenty tables, give or take. Only one of them held people. A 5.0 rating online, and yet the place sat quiet, like it hadn’t been discovered by anyone but the algorithm.
Empty rooms make me nervous. But they also make me curious. Sometimes the good ones just haven’t been found yet.
Let’s not waste time. Here’s what’s actually good.
The Squid Karaage
This is why I’d come back.
I have eaten a lot of fried squid across a lot of countries. Most of it is armour — thick batter hiding a rubbery interior, the kind that fights back when you bite. You chew and chew and give up.
Not here.
The batter was almost invisible. A thin, dry crackle, nothing more. They use cornflour instead of standard flour, and you feel the difference immediately. It shatters instead of clinging.
And underneath, the squid was soft. Juicy. No chew at all. It gave way clean, the way squid should when someone actually understands the timing.
This is the best fried squid I have eaten. I don’t say that to be dramatic. I say it because it’s true.
This dish shut me up for a moment.
The Grilled Honey Carrot
I did not come to a grill for the carrots. Nobody does. But this plate stopped me.
Grilled honey carrot, served with a carrot paste underneath. Soft all the way through, sweet without tipping into dessert, and carrying the char from the flame at its edges.
That char is the whole thing. It grounds the sweetness. Gives it smoke and a little bitterness to lean against. The paste held the flavour together, like the carrot spoke twice — once whole, once broken down.
Among the best carrots I have eaten. A vegetable that behaved like a main.
The Beef Steak
The staff told me the group behind this place also runs Meat and Coal. They flagged the meat as a strength. Kitchens say that kind of thing all the time. Usually it means nothing.
Here it held up.
The steak was juicy. Well marinated, the seasoning worked into the meat instead of sitting on the surface. The texture was right — firm, giving, never puffy or spongy the way overworked cuts get.
Clean flavours. Clear intention. They know what they’re doing with fire.
The Barbecue Beef Croquette
This came early and set the tone.
A croquette with a strong, deep beefy flavour running through it. Not the usual mush of potato pretending to be beef. You tasted the meat first, and it stayed with you.
A good croquette. Honest work. It told me the kitchen cared before the bigger plates arrived.
The Kingfish Carpaccio
The kingfish was fresh. Sliced clean, laid out simply.
It was decent. Nothing tired about the fish, nothing off. But it didn’t reach the heights of what came after it. A quiet plate. A capable one. It did its job and stepped aside.
The Brussels Sprouts
Good. Charred at the edges, tender in the middle. Nothing to fault, nothing to write a paragraph about. They filled a corner of the table and did it well.
The Lobster Pasta
Here’s where I’ll be honest.
The pasta itself was cooked right. Al dente, with real bite, the way it should be. The sauce was good — balanced, coating each strand without drowning it.
But the lobster was the problem. Not bad. Just not special. I’ve eaten lobster fresh off the counter at South Melbourne Market, steps from where it was pulled from the tank. That lobster ruins you for this one.
And it was pricey for what landed on the plate. If you’re paying for lobster, the lobster should be the reason you remember the dish. Here, the pasta carried it. The lobster just came along.
Skip it. Order the squid twice instead.
What Ember on Toorak Gets Right
The bill came to around 500 dollars for dinner. That’s real money, and I won’t pretend otherwise.
But here’s the truth of it. Ember on Toorak is strong where it matters most — on the grill. The squid. The carrot. The steak. The croquette. These are dishes cooked by people who understand heat and timing and restraint. Among the many restaurants in Melbourne, it’s rare to find a new opening that feels this confident so early.
The lobster pasta was the one plate that asked more than it gave. Everything else earned its place.
I keep thinking about that empty room. One table full, nineteen waiting. A 5.0 rating and almost nobody there to see it.
That happens with new places. The food arrives before the crowd does. Someone in that kitchen is doing careful, quiet work, and the city hasn’t caught up yet.
It will.
There was no performance to any of this. No theatre for a phone. Just fire, good produce, and a kitchen that trusts the food to speak for itself.
Would I Return
Yes. Without hesitation.
Not for the lobster. For the squid karaage. For a carrot that behaved like it mattered. For a steak cooked by people who clearly respect the grill.
I’ll come back before the room fills up. Because I already know it will.
If you find yourself on Toorak Road, unsure, walk in while it’s still quiet. Order the squid first. Then the honey carrot. Then the steak.
Good food needs no explanation. This was one of those meals.
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