I can smell grilled meats and fish as I ascend the staircase to Santini Bar & Grill. I’m back to childhood holidays in the Med and the Aegean; simple coastal restaurants that worked a grill to perfection. Up on the first floor of the QT – another entrant into Perth’s crowded luxury hotel market – Santini is far from simple, with enough swagger to be part of the QT family; bold blues and earthy tones, leather banquettes and rows of pendant lights make this a very nice room, on which it seems no expense has been spared.

It’s lunchtime on a Wednesday and perhaps 50 or 60 diners contribute to a happy din; suit jackets are off, ties are loosened, the corporate plastic is taking a beating. We’ve heard of a slow down in Perth dining, but Santini is seemingly bucking the trend.

As a lone diner, you wonder will I be the ghost in the room, but in a hotel you’d hope that staff are attuned to a table for one.  Things start well; asked whether I prefer the quieter back of the room, or up front, with a view of the semi-open kitchen and a bit more life. I choose life.

Chef Nic Wood, marshals the kitchen from in front and behind the pass; under the pump perhaps but only as you’d expect with a room this size. All bodes well for a meal to match the praise already heaped on Santini from other quarters. From the work of Nic Wood, to the influence of Robert Marchetti, the New York-based  Aussie restaurateur who’s shaping QT’s offering across Australia: it’s the talk of the town. 

Starting simple, mixing and matching a Capri salad, liberally heaped with pecorino; a single wood grilled tomahawk lamb chop to the side, I’m happy. Marinated for 48 hours in garlic, oregano and lemon, grilled perfectly pink, the lamb is full of flavour. A promising start and a hint at what they’re doing on the grill with good ingredients.

Santini’s wine list errs towards the big names of Western Australia: Cullen, Cape Mentelle, Fraser Gallop, Leeuwin Estate et al. There’s the odd flourish of Italian producers, and interestingly (and not unwelcome) it doesn’t seem to be chasing a trend.

Service is sporadic. The front of house supervisor clearly on her game, whilst I count how many times the floor staff pass my plate, pushed to the edge of the table. I’m distracted after the fifth or sixth time. Small point, but for me it comes back to the lone diner syndrome. Especially as you observe the care and attention taken on larger tables.

Black pepper fettuccine, thick cut with a spicy duck “bolognese” sounds promising, especially touting the addition of duck crackling. My hope is short-lived, the crackling is oily, acrid and pretty much inedible. I give it a go from different sides; this is crackling after all, but I capitulate.  The pasta is good enough, though there’s uneven hits a pepper, from none to eyes wide. The bolognese lacks vibrancy, a heap of pecorino brings it up a notch but it’s just not enough.

I’m considering another plate, perhaps a dessert, at the very least a coffee. Leaving my plate and a half glass of wine I head to the bathrooms, returning to find everything cleared: plate, wine, menus. My waiter beaming at his newfound efficiency thrusts my bag towards me.

It’s all a little premature. I tell him I’ve not finished; the wine should have been a giveaway. At such a point: bag in hand, an awkward silence, appetites are generally lost. I opt for the bill, which has the cleared wine deducted, but there’s very little in the way of a mea culpa.

Santini has all the elements to be one of Perth’s best, but hailing it as such is, like the service, premature.