When you keep the final notch on your belt under constant threat for a crust as I do, there are two things that stand out when visiting a restaurant for the first time. For one, it’s obvious when a restaurateur or chef has made time to explore the culinary landscape beyond the kitchen pass. One who gathers information, interprets it and realises the context of ones own market is far better equipped to understand what regular punters want.

Sadly, it’s also obvious when a chef never leaves the confines of their own four walls. Thrashing about in the throes of ground hog day can soon result in a bubble of irrelevance. Often it bursts before they realise why.

It’s not about copying trends, that game is for mugs. It’s about finding the best way to deliver one’s vision by understanding the ever-evolving diner’s perception of value.

If I were to say one thing about David Moyle, co-owner and chef of Franklin restaurant in Hobart, it would be that he understands the modern diner.

Franklin is, in a restaurant sense, a perfect circle. That’s not to say Franklin is perfect, but it’s proof that a great restaurant is not just about the food. In fact, it’s not about service, or atmosphere either. Greatness comes from the sum of those parts to ensure the venue delivers on its promise to the customer.

Moyle is well travelled and well trained. One time panhandler of Melbourne’s Circa The Prince and Byron Bay’s Pacific Dining Room, the chef headed to the Apple Isle a few years ago to explore the fruits of the region at The Stackings restaurant at Peppermint Bay.

Franklin, backed by the same owners, is his interpretation of what constitutes modern dining down under and, in truth, it could easily hold its own in any of our capitals.

The restaurant and bar is housed in a former (c.1923) Ford showroom smack bang next to the original Mercury newspaper digs.

It’s a big open space with polished concrete floors adorned in cowhides, an indoor garden, bespoke wooden stools, chairs, tables and also offers communal dining and a concrete bar to view the kitchen crew in all their glory. The grey, industrial overtones of the space may seem cold to the naked eye, but it’s warmed throughout by the motherload of wood-fired ovens (a ten-tonne scotch oven).

It may be in Hobart but it’s managed to capture that smart, warm welcome that Melbourne restaurants pride themselves on, and the service brilliantly balances the familiar and professional bang on. They know how to bring the fun without too much of the fuss.

There may be a certain Melbourne mystique about Franklin, but the food is more akin to the new wave of dining that has swept Sydney off its feet. That desire to hero local ingredients with a sense of simplicity that lets them speak for themself. Though Moyle has his own interpretation of the ethos too.

Plump tongues of sea urchin arrives with sweet onion on a large nasturtium leaf to eat san choy bow style. It’s damn good, although the onion steals some of the sea urchins thunder. Next local broad beans a blistered on the grill – just pop them out and give them a lick of red miso. Meanwhile blackened eggplant puree lays a foundation for a generous slab of Scottish longhorn tartare. Dried olive adds seasoning and watercress the required freshness. Paprika and wild fennel fronds accentuate flamed-licked octopus, but wood-roasted pork neck completely steals the show. First poached in milk, its slow-cooked in the oven until 60C. Partnered with sweet young radishes, the pink flesh blushes beneath powdered lovage. It’s a triumph.

Franklin is as honest and open as it is brave. Simple cookery of this nature means there’s nowhere to hide, but that’s the thing, Franklin is much more than what lands on the plate. It doesn’t shy away for fear of failure, rather, it confidently and proudly proves that restaurants that evolve and listen to their market often make for the best dining experiences.