‘Edible Garden Salad’. It’s a dish screaming out at me on the menu at The Wilmot. It’s not the ingredients – mushroom (soil), avocado, carrot, celeriac – it’s the name. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch of the imagination to consider food on a menu as ‘edible’. I’ve never nervously asked a waiter if a dish simply called ‘garden salad’ was edible. Anyway, The Wilmot.

It’s a brand new restaurant housed in the refurbished boutique Primus Hotel (Greenland International Hotels Group) – the former Sydney Water Board Building circa 1939.

Good god it’s a breathtaking space. Hotel reception, bar and restaurant occupy the vast majority of the ground floor and although Sydney has some really stunning old buildings, this has all the glorious gasp-inducing moments like Rockpool Bar & Grill – perhaps even more.

Ruby red and cream marbled columns, stone and timber veneer panelling and white washed walls all bring it back to its former glory.

The Woods Bagot re-furb is worth seeing, if only for a drink at the art deco bar anchoring the room. It’s the kind of space yesteryear Hollywood film producers would have swooned over – perhaps some would now too.

The restaurant is dark, moody and overwhelms with a sense of occasion. It has immaculate finishes – marble, dark woods – and feels like a grown up dining room. It’s a nice change from the casual crusade sweeping the culinary landscape.

The wine list is adventurous without being too cerebral. It’s accessible for the most part, and not caught in the current of only listing crowd pleasers. Although the service has good intentions it’s still a bit green, but the manager on shift seems to be leading by example – and influencing the experience of every table.

Then there’s the food. Executive chef Ryan Hong has time spent in the kitchens of Rockpool Bar & Grill and Black by Ezard and coupled with his Korean heritage, his food straddles contemporary within the context of Asia – nothing new in our restaurants really.

But in an effort to make an impression, he’s forgotten balance, harmony and at times it seems he’s got too caught up in an idea instead of simply making a dish work. Or recognising the building blocks that make dishes work.

The beef tartare for instance. The Kewpie mayo and pickled mushroom is a nice touch, but the promised ‘handcut chips’ look and taste like store-bought crostini toast bread. The ‘crispy egg yolk’ is a battered and fried ball of completely cooked egg yolk and looks like arancini. There’s no breaking out the oozy innards to turn through the tartare that’s begging for some binding. The manager explained it was cooked sous vide and was meant to be that way. Chef Hong said he froze the yolk, battered it and fried it. It’s a shame, a raw yolk would have sufficed.

Then abalone and seaweed risotto is lost at sea beneath a raft of pungent garlic chips. Each bite promises a gentle abalone embrace but delivers a Mike Tyson garlic right hook. I had to pick all the garlic chips off the dish to have a chance of tasting the abalone. Perhaps we should have ordered the edible salad.

But there were some OK moments. Moreton Bay bugs arrive opaque and sweet. Edamame, peanut and watermelon made great bedfellows but we had to season the dish ourselves. And pretty plumb sweetbreads were gorgeous – if only there were more on the plate – because the accompanying lamb loin and pearl barley was a tad pedestrian. But we did manage to eat all of it.

Then it got weird. And by weird, I mean I’m still scratching my head.

We ordered ‘summer berries’ for dessert. The waiter happily took our order, and we waited. We were greeted by the chef carrying a different dessert with an explanation that I’m still confounded by. Whether it was a dessert he didn’t have time to put on the menu, or that he didn’t have time to take the summer berries off the menu I’m not sure. Either way, we were given a dessert we hadn’t ordered, and there was no sign of the one we had. Perhaps the waiter could have told us, and perhaps we could have ordered something else. A dessert we’d like to try.

Instead we were given a non-descript mirage of meringue and berries that bear no more mention. We didn’t complain, but it also didn’t appear on the bill. I’m still confused.

And yet, the room is so damn gorgeous I want to spend more time in it, but with mains jumping into the $40-plus territory, I can’t help but question the value proposition here.

There aren’t a lot of restaurants that have $40-plus mains in this city. Those that do are manned by some pretty incredible chefs with serious pedigree – mostly backed up by world-class service that creates the ultimate perception of value.

The Primus Hotel is a beautiful building and no doubt the six levels of hotel rooms are awash with dramatic detail, but if you’re going to aim at the top tier of restaurants you better be damn sure you can compete with them.

There’s a good basis here to do great things, so perhaps a few jumps to the left and another to the right and the chef may find his footing – the building deserves it.