Before he and partner Vicki Wild made their controversial exit from Society, 2021’s most hotly anticipated opening, star chef Martin Benn described his vision for Lillian Terrace as “a European-style brasserie … the kind of place you can drop in, have some oysters, champagne.”

Society would always be the star turn, obviously; sister restaurant Lillian would be “more casual but still elevated”, he told me.

A couple of things have changed since then. The Fat Duck-trained Luke Headon wears the exec chef’s apron now, and Lillian Terrace has changed its name to Lillian Brasserie. But it remains reassuringly true to Benn’s brief.

Exiting the first-floor lift, guests are greeted by hosts and escorted past the lounge bar to Lillian, a chic space of napa leather banquettes and pendant lampshades tiered and fringed like flapper skirts. It’s very brown – in a soothing, sophisticated way. Diners bring the colour. Oversized Helmut Newton prints add some drama.

Guests are seated and welcomed with a whopping 98-page drinks list. Lillian/Society surely has one of Australia’s best restaurant cellars, with more than 10,000 bottles and many treasures. The cellar offers, for example, 29 vintages of the famed French dessert wine Chateau d’Yquem dating to 1945 (rrp $33,000), and four pages of champagnes.

Wines by the glass are all best-in-class, whether Barossa shiraz or a Piedmont Nebbiolo. There are four token beers offered.

Related review: This Chablis and oyster bar in the Melbourne CBD is a real gem 

The list needs time to digest so it takes staff three attempts before we’re ready to order. Then it’s another 20 minutes before our glasses of wine arrive, due to some breakdown in comms. 

We’re halfway through starters by then, having bypassed the pricey snacks ($14.50 olives, $27 for a caviar pretzel). BBQ squid is sliced, scored and piled quiveringly atop a pool of romesco, the charry capsicum and tomato sauce a feisty accompaniment to the fish.

The tartare’s a classic interpretation seasoned with Worcestershire, mustard and chopped capers and served as an immaculate disc coated in diced chive. It’s quite faultless, though I would have preferred toasts – or even a basket of fries – rather than the potato crisps it came with.

Benn imagined Lillian’s signature dish would be a perfect crown roast of chicken and his wish has been granted in absentia. The (boned) chook’s tanned exterior, crusted with mixed spices, herbs and salt flakes, rests in plump slices on a puddle of a chilli-flecked jus rendered from chicken fat, tomato oil and lime juice. Perfectly cooked chook in a perfectly balanced sauce.

For sides, a decent bowl of charred beans and pine nuts and a decadent wedge of potato boulangere, layered like dauphinoise but scented with thyme and smoky San Simon cheese from northern Spain.

The meal finishes stronger than it starts, which is unusual.

I’m still swooning over that killer chicken and potato combo when dessert arrives. It’s a pear and apple tarte tatin, very dark and very delicious. The fruit sugars have been pushed to burning point for intense, slightly bitter caramel highs in a heady mix of crisp pastry and velvety textures. Melting vanilla bean ice cream sends it next level.

For all its refinement there’s little ornament to Lillian’s dishes. No foams or fashionable trends. The expectation seems to be that the food will speak for itself. Which it does fluently, and in French.