I’ve always thought it unnatural seeing chefs plating up dishes with tweezers. It makes food seem clinical. But it doesn’t prevent the wonderful eating experiences.

Apart from plucking hairs that grow in odd places (it happens as you get older), I’ve not had much use for tweezers, and never did I expect to use a pair to eat food and be rapt in the joy of it. And yet here we are, course two at the $4 million born-again Quay, and I’m like a kid in a rock pool selecting hand-harvested raw scallop, clam, squid and seaweed – with tweezers – from a pool of virgin soy and aged vinegar. It’s one of the most festive celebrations of the sea I’ve eaten and blew apart any perceptions I may have held about the over-artfulness of food.

The new Quay is likely to do that to many diners. It’s like eating in a brand-new restaurant, especially when it comes to its decor. I was never enamoured with Quay’s old dining room, but this latest incarnation by architect Tim Greer (of Tonkin Zulaikha Greer) sparkles by day. It’s natural and relaxed without loosening the tie too much. The linen has been replaced with sustainable, solid spotted gum tabletops. Australian designer Adam Goodrum’s sleek chairs with chevron detailing mimic ‘the nuns in a scrum’ (Opera House) across the harbour. There are timber ceilings and the views aren’t bad either.

The whole change has filtered through everything Quay does. Service is super professional, but relaxed enough to allow each staff member to shine. Shanteh Wong’s wine list has all the depth and breadth of the shimmering blue outside – so perhaps let them navigate the ride. And as for the food, well, I wouldn’t call Peter Gilmore’s food easy delicious. Stunning perhaps. Respectful. Considered. Thoughtful. Sophisticated. Beautiful. Mostly, though, it’s memorable. There’s an innate connection to the produce, and indeed a genuine intent to tell its story using Gilmore’s culinary tongue.

Crisp Wakefield cabbage veils slippery squid noodles that partner a disc of Tennouji turnip and gorgeously sweet sand crab claw meat. Terra Preta truffle butter partners the poshest little malt barley crumpets, while chawanmushi is topped with lobes of Tasmanian sea urchin, served with a deep alluring broth, roe and pork crackling. An evolution of Gilmore’s pork jowl dish comes with a sea-cucumber cracker, fan-shell razor clam and the soft, unctuous umami of pork jowl. Sure, the Snow Egg is gone, but in its place is freeze-dried white chocolate formed like coral, atop feijoa and coconut. Quay’s evolution is beautiful and Gilmore’s food is something every Australian should experience at least once – and finally the room matches his culinary nous.