Chicken skin sandwich meet “koeksister”. If that sandwich, with its dunking bowl of pan drippings, is Africola’s symbolically daggy yet delicious greeting then its play on a traditional Afrikaner doughnut must be the other bookend — albeit with more sophisticated trimmings of ricotta, coffee and burnt honey. Along with the peri peri chicken, it is one of the few reminders of this rollicking little party house’s original form, when it celebrated the backyard “brais” and shanty bars that were part of the upbringing of Johannesburg-raised owner/chef and chief scallywag Duncan Welgemoed. With his culinary dark arts in demand around the country, the kitchen team at Africola has grown in size and influence, particularly through head chef Imogen Czulowski, which might in part explain the culinary boundaries shifting again. The spice-laden undercurrents of northern Africa are still there, as are the next-level dips and falafel. However, you might also encounter Hiramasa kingfish that has hung for five days before being portioned for sashimi that makes the countless other versions around town look dull. The same fish is also served as fillet with saffron and fennel butter and the whole roasted tail to share. Vegos, vegans and those with other requirements are always looked after — if there is roast cabbage or cauli don’t miss out. The SA-only wine selection has also become more inclusive, with a greater variety of regions and principles. Throw in one of our best service crews led by Nikki Friedli and last year’s Restaurant of the Year remains at the top of the heap.

Prawn-stuffed roti is cosied up alongside a mortadella sandwich. Fire-pit roasted chicken in jerk spices can be followed by tarte tatin that’s “ooh la la”. Hints of native and foraged ingredients (such as in that jerk seasoning) can still be found at Blackwood but the influence of what is happening upstairs at Orana is more pragmatic this time around. Deliciousness is now the priority and it doesn’t matter where in the world owner/chef Jock Zonfrillo has stumbled upon it. The Italian side of his Italian/Scottish heritage seems to be calling loudly at the moment, not only in the mortadella sandwiches which his nonna made when he was growing up, but also in the excellent vitello tonnato, the risotto and pasta dishes that are regularly part of the mix (start with an on-point negroni to put you in the mood). Order the Kangaroo Island scallops if they are on, perhaps with an essence of their skirts. Red meats and a vegetable dish of substance are usually cooked on the fire pit and good to share. Wait staff are all at the top of their game, their skills sharpened no doubt from splitting their time between upstairs and down. Prices are reasonable too, considering the quality of the package, and there is even a $10 kids’ menu. Nothing is too cerebral, fussy or overblown. It’s a true bistro experience, based in Adelaide, but inspired by the world.

Soi 38 has evolved from its street food origins to a more detailed, rewarding exploration of Thai cooking. The physical change from its striking black-and-yellow livery to a lighter, brighter dining room is matched by a sophisticated investigation of regional specialties from the coastal towns in the south to hill tribes of the north. The best way to navigate it is the “feed me” option — but be warned, they take feeding you seriously and you will face an extensive degustation demanding sustained attention. Just as well the smiley, knowledgeable staff members have a light, attentive touch and are willing to be patient and flexible with your choices. The fresh beginning (from the south) brings a cucumber salad with a tangy vinaigrette and just a touch of chilli and kaffir lime that is served alongside a charred lamb skewer with a bit of chew but loads of flavour as well as the signature goat curry that is luxuriously intense with a tart touch of pineapple. From central Thailand, a duck and pickled lemongrass salad refreshes and sits well with lobster spring rolls. A feast of pork scratchings, sausage and sides along with a pork curry leave you in the north. More authentic than ever, Soi 38 is streets ahead of your average Thai eatery.

The French may no longer be self-appointed world champions of all things food but they do have a few runs on the board when it comes to classic dishes like steak tartare and creme brulee that need no alteration or embellishment. You will find memorable renditions of each at Hey Jupiter, a loveable laneway bistro that, until recently, was best known for its sandwiches. Owners Christophe Zauner and Jacqui Lodge have leapt at the chance to expand into the next-door premises, allowing them to build a proper kitchen. Just as importantly, they have found a chef in Carlos Astudillo with the skill and shared passion to make this brasserie dream come true. “Les escargots”, steak frites, salade niçoise and the rest of the classic bistro band are all included on a single, large card that jumps around like a startled frog. A piece of toasted brioche is topped with asparagus spears, a poached egg, a wedge of foie gras and chopped hazelnut. Crumbed lamb brains are lifted by a blob of excellent sauce gribiche. Partially deboned quail is expertly roasted and laid on a substantial splat of parsnip puree with slices of poached vanilla peach and a jus just thick enough to be licked from the fork (again and again). Creme brulee has the perfect proportions of silky-textured custard and a toffee lid with a hint of dark caramel bitterness. Hey Jupiter is open all day, every day, starting with a breakfast that, once again, includes all the classics. Cassoulet or croque monsieur? Je ne sais pas.

A trio of buddies with huge restaurant cred have created a down-to-earth dining hub in the south of the CBD that’s a little further from the action but worth tracking down. Chef Quentin Whittle has taken over the former Panacea, along with old buddy Ben McLeod (Peel St) and Paul Tripodi, a colleague over the past couple of years at Norwood’s well-regarded Stone’s Throw. A smart name and logo, also reflected in the pattern of subway tiling on the pass, is the extent of design sensibility. Most of the renovations have been DIY, down to the sanding of the tabletops. The manifesto is to provide a comfy, unpretentious diner that fits the growing community on this side of the city. The cooking, from a narrow open kitchen, favours substance over style. These are big, wholesome plates that won’t always light up Instagram. A slab of focaccia, still warm and with a sheen of oil, fixes any hunger pangs, before slurping down Coffin Bay oysters coated in a slick of green nam jim that ebbs and flows with the salty sea juices. Kingfish sashimi is spattered with fermented chilli dressing and crowned by crumbly leaves of roasted kale. Excellent gnocchi is tossed with unpeeled broad beans, asparagus and zucchini, all bound together by a chlorophyll-green spinach and parsley puree, blobs of chevre and more chilli. The lamb shoulder looks like an alien life form but fortunately its divine spice fragrance is an accurate indicator of how it eats. Desserts keep things low-key. Segments of dried pineapple are wafers for twin scoops of coconut sorbet topped with kaffir lime sprinkle, while a slim, luxuriously rich slice of chocolate tart gets the jaffa treatment with blood orange segments and candied peel.