Longsong is proof that great service, a honed drinks programme and a great space can prop up a kitchen that’s not quite hitting it’s straps.

The long awaited bar come restaurant is, as spaces go, beautifully designed. This former stable on Little Bourke Street houses sibling Longrain on the ground floor. Upstairs it’s exposed brick and a high pitched roof, lanterns suspended and large windows which at the magic hour give you that end of day permission to hit the bar. There’s statement art and a kitchen and bar installation that are about both form and function. There’s the hum and clatter of glasses that goes with after work drinks, catchups and date nights; the theatre of the open kitchen is on display. It’s the kind of place that you really want to like, because it’s clear that it’s built on thought and passion.

Our server tells us – on bended knee – that the menu is all about ingredients prepared raw and over coals. “The chef lights a fire each morning” is a line that sticks. Explanations of menus and concepts can in many places be that moment where you slowly nod, both you and the server knowing that neither wants to say it or hear it, but this is the script. At Longsong it’s natural and a prelude to drinks; service of which is polished. The wine list has a modern bent, while holding interest for those who like their drop a little less barnyard, a mix of names you know with still a good degree of discovery. It’s one of the best wine service  experiences of recent times (and I can assure you, there’s been a few).

David Moyle, back on the mainland after his stint at Franklin in Hobart, is manning the long rectangular pass. With this caliber of opening much rests on the chef. The menu is honed. A promising one pager. There are oysters, flatbread with duck fat, then small plates, sticks grilled over coals, large plates and sweets. A bar menu elevated if you will; this is food to be eaten with conversation, not to be picked over in minute detail. You could easily order everything and from the look of larger tables, that seems to be exactly the game plan.

A salad of heirloom tomatoes with wild ginger, sorrel and mint offers a fresh and fragrant start. Good tomatoes are my death row veggie and will always be my first choice. I’m not disappointed.

Taking a look into the kitchen a chef stands turning sticks that make up a sizable section of the menu. Whether they bring to mind hawkers markets, yakitori or backyard barbies we want the same thing: that essential element of smoke and char, to know it’s on good terms with the coals. But it’s hit and miss. An Otway shiitake mushroom is the star turn, hit with vinegar and salty kelp. It’s got depth and that meaty bite of a good mushroom. Leek is well seasoned with togarashi and miso, but there’s no hint that it’s been over the coals: no smoke, no crisp outer skin and sticky layers beneath. Duck hearts are under seasoned and over cooked. Aged lamb is again over cooked, and with a hefty kick of cumin salt feels unbalanced against the others. While it’s a thumbs down on execution, it’s a thumbs up on concept. I mean who doesn’t want to pick and mix sticks and throw back a few good choices from the bar?

Redemption comes in the form of Moreton Bay bugs. Pungent fish sauce and rich butter add just enough here, without taking away from the bug. I always wonder – having been brought up in a seafood tradition of fish and chips, the odd pickled cockle and plenty of fish fingers – as to what the etiquette is with Aussie seafood. I look around for a clue, and when that fails, it’s a case of hands on, breaking, cracking and sucking. There’s liberal wiping of beard with this dish. It’s a joy.

Roasted pineapple, again shows little sign of any roasting, in fact, of any heat. There’s an expectation that the pineapple will be warm and even slightly caramelised, but the whole dish is cold. Coconut, pineapple, rum and yoghurt is not in the slightest bit unpleasant. In fact it’s gone in seconds, but is not as the menu suggests.

Purely on dining, Longsong falls short. But taken as a package it’s hitting highs. Moyle has obvious pedigree and the problems notably all stemmed from cooking over coals. The menu is strong, and the lasting thought is that once the team find their fire they’ll be blazing a trail on Little Bourke Street.