The regaling of history, for better or worse, is often down to the perspective of those telling its tale.

Take Quentin Tarantino’s re-writing of 1940s Nazi Germany in the film Inglourious Basterds – a tongue-in-cheek portayal of history – which raised some eyebrows, while others belly laughed.

An infamous, bloody scene in the subterranean tavern of Tarantino’s cult film isn’t normally the first thing one thinks of when arriving at a restaurant, but then again Hubert is no average restaurant.

Two large wooden doors and a sketched ‘Hubert’ sign are the only clue to its existence on Bligh street, and what lies beyond is far more than perhaps many of us perceive.

The first restaurant from the Swillhouse Group (Shady Pines Saloon, Baxter’s Inn, Frankie’s Pizza) spirals down two floors through cascading wooden panelling with what may well be the largest miniature booze collection on the planet encased inside glass cabinetry.

At the bottom is Hubert. And the room feels like you’ve stepped into ‘that’ famous tavern scene. It’s a kind of post-war France, when restaurants were much different beasts.

We talk so much about the latest restaurant, the evolution of our culinary landscape, the emergence of the new, that it makes us forever susceptible to losing touch with not only certain cuisines and dishes, but restaurant etiquette and genuine hospitality at the very core of restaurants past, too.

They may be young entrepreneurs, but they’re old at heart. This is not some naff gimmick. It’s a genuine, intoxicating and brilliant re-birth of what many modern restaurants are lacking.

A series of rooms includes two eat-at bars and a dining room proper housing a baby grand piano and microphone just begging for a song. Soon they’ll open private dining rooms and a theatre – they even installed seating sourced from an old cinema in Adelaide.

Mismatched period art and photography colour brown wooden walls, with bottles – placed on shelves during the build to gather dust as if they’ve been there forever – running the entire perimeter.

The floors are made with re-purposed wooden floorboards and the carpet has seen plenty of good times too.

In the kitchen is Dan Pepperell. He turned Italian on its head at Paddington’s 10 William St with clever and often unrecognisable twists on classic dishes within the building blocks – giving them a bit of umami oomph.

Here, he harps back to the classic French bistro – something we lost touch with in Sydney with the sea of new cuisines.

Pippis land in a Normandy-style sauce with a cool twist. Pepperell uses kombu in the stock that’s also infused with grilled fish heads and emulsified with butter. The dish is garnished with soft herbs such as chervil, chives and tarragon. Make sure you have bread to mop it up.

Bonito jelly is enhanced by the subtle smokiness of roasted dashi. Inside there’s caviar, trout roe and a set egg yolk. Instead of an entire soft boiled egg inside, as the classic would have it, Pepperell first slow cooks the egg in the thermo-circulator, then removes the egg white before setting the yolk inside the jelly.

Large salted Spanish Nardin anchovies are butterflied to remove the spine, though the tail is left on. They’re combined with soft cultured butter and watercress on a sourdough bed. I’d be happy with six of them and a bottle of wine. Thank you very much.

Next classic Thirlmere duck liver parfait – think eschallot, port, peppercorn, salt and clarified butter is topped by a maple syrup jelly. A hat tilt perhaps, to a French Montreal influence.

Then pretty pink Rangers Valley flank (bavette) strips are topped by a disc of bordelaise butter made with dry aged beef fat rather than traditional bone marrow. A whole head of red velvet lettuce lathered in a caper and red wine vinaigrette is a perfect accompaniment.

We finish with crème caramel made with straight cream, rather than milk. It’s too dense for me, but the caramel is taken right to the burnt and bitter point.

Dan Pepperell may well be the best young cook in Australia. It’s not that he’s challenging gastronomy – it’s that he gets gastronomy. His food is the food we all want to eat – free of pretension. And yet he has a delicate touch too. Everything is considered and crafted before umami delivers a bang.

Hubert is the sum of the best parts of restaurants past. Its wine, beer list and bars a testament to the wonderful influence The Swillhouse Group has already had on this city. But mostly, it’s captured the very essence and soul of hospitality and the very, and original, purpose of restaurants.

Hubert is respectful, fun and colourful. Everyone is welcome. It’s the restaurant Sydney was missing, and yet in some way it feels like it’s always been here, lying beneath the surface waiting to lure us in. Bravo to such bravery. Bravo to giving fresh air into the lungs of history. And bravo to a willingness to capture such joy. Bravo.

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