The establishment opened in September last year in the premises that had long been occupied by China House Seafood Restaurant on the first floor above the Chinatown Mall in Duncan Street. The decor is lovely, with plushly upholstered chairs and blingy chandelier-style lighting, roped-off booths lining a wall of the huge bar area, and loads of comfortable seating outside on a wide balcony. There’s even an additional, tucked-away private dining room that can be reached via the back stairs.

After starting out as a large, combined bar/dining space, a revamp last month walled off the restaurant to improve the ambience for diners. We were apparently among the first out of the blocks in the new 48-seat space, our waitress telling us that the re-launch party had been held the night before. Glamour is the aim, with diaphanous dark curtains skimming the new glass walls, wooden floors, a pressed-metal ceiling and marble-look wallpaper. The tables are dark wood and lit by tea lights.

The menu follows a similarly blingy, semi-retro theme with a “preview” section of caviar and oysters, segueing into entrees including duck liver parfait and scallops with caramelised brown butter, lemon and green pea puree. Spanner crab tortellini ($24) beckoned and the three pieces of silky pasta were elevated by the addition of a sprinkling of lobster meat and chives, and a white wine butter sauce. A gold-rimmed plate bore a scattering of crunchy battered calamari ($18), attractively presented amid dots of horseradish aioli, sprigs of watercress and ribbons of cucumber, confirming a level of skill and confidence in the kitchen.

Main courses ran to several varieties of steak, prawn tagliatelle and pan-roasted organic chicken with corn puree and pomegranate. As well, share dishes included the rarely-seen-these-days lobster mornay and New England grass-fed Black Angus tomahawk with roasted bone marrow and cognac Paris mash.

The wine list traverses the globe and the use of the Coravin resealing system means the by-the-glass list is lengthy and has some off-the-beaten-track choices, including two rosés from Provence as well as a smattering of European reds.

A generous portion of rare-in-the-middle lamb rump ($36) was enhanced by mint jelly, broad beans, whipped goat feta, spearmint and roasted rosemary salad. It was all very decent but our other main, the pork belly ($36), stole the show, with excellent crispy skin and soft flesh lapped by a shallow lake of richly flavoured pork broth and mash.

Our waitress was very capable and professional but if she couldn’t manage two diners the place would be in trouble.

Of the three desserts on offer, the two we tried were well constructed if not exactly pushing the envelope in terms of innovation. The chocolate marquis topped with a quenelle of iced orange parfait, a furl of almond tuille and a scattering of petals ($15) won points for presentation, while the honeycomb crème brulee ($15) was generously proportioned with a crunchy honeycomb topping. Non-sweet tooths could graze the cheese selection or, if eating’s too much trouble, there’s an array of dessert cocktails.

Just as we were about to leave, four women turned up and headed straight for the bar. Things were hotting up. We’d arrived after work sometime after 6.30 but the manager said later that bookings of 8-8.30pm were the most popular, as was the late-night menu that continues until 1.30am with treats such as spanner crab croquettes and steak frites.

The Supper Club stands out as a sophisticated venue amid the hubbub of the Valley but whether there’s much of an appetite for the restaurant’s old-school-inspired menu is something I’ll have to go back somewhat later one evening to explore.

This review originally appeared on couriermail.com.au.