When it comes to French bistro fare in Melbourne, diners usually dash into the city or south of the Yarra for the fix of prix fixe, pomme frites and bougie ooh la la. With the opening of Collingwood’s latest offering, Smith St Bistrot, chef-restaurateur Scott Pickett is banking on the fact the city’s inner north has been craving a worthy Maison of its own. One dedicated to the things Melbourne and France value in dining: character, charm, classics executed well and an atmosphere-charged place to take it all in.

In former times, this site has housed Saint Crispin, a Broadsheet pop-up diner, then Italian diner Lupo. In this life, the 1880s building has been given a 1920s Parisian makeover.

Printed wine boxes stack nonchalantly in the front window, while you step through familiar wrought-iron gates into a moody dining room lined with antique mirrors, be-mossed walls, and vintage curios. Curvy burgundy banquettes and marble-topped tables are thematically correct and presided over by earnest waiters in smart black aprons. The rich detail feels more pastiche
than au naturale, but it’s early days so let’s see how she softens around the edges. The bar is begging to be stocked with cute couples holding aperitifs, while the staircase beckons upwards to a mezzanine on which to perch and people-watch the action below.

The menu is sold as Pickett’s love affair with French cuisine, having honed his craft beneath the legendary Phillipe Mouchel. Helmed by chef Daniel Southern, a series of snacks scale from pleasingly fatty duck prosciutto, cut with peppery radish and pickly friends, to the decidedly more ostentatious Giaveri beluga caviar service, replete with blini and other expected accoutrement, $250.

Slightly frigid caviar topped oeufs mimosa (devilled eggs) make decent enough bite-size Champagne snacks before moving on to the main event – six entrees and mains as well as a daily changing plat du jour (with wine, $40), then three desserts and four fromage offerings, because, French.

The list of liquid refreshments is succinct and approachable. A mainstay of classics mixes with au courante non-alcoholic, natural and craft drops, and a few curve balls.

A tartare of yellowfin tuna is adorned with a sunny half quail egg and chives and a side of delicate umami-amped, nori-dusted pomme gaufrette, with which to scoop. The latter’s shattering fragility proves a flaw in the design, as does a lack of balance in the tartare itself. Vol-au-vents, those retrotastic pastry snack vessels are officially back, here, flaky layers are stuffed with plump escargot and dressed verdant parsley emulsion and a rich, sticky demi-glace.

In classic bistro style, mains come with a handful of classic garnitures; pommes frites, pommes Anna for those who never met a potato they didn’t like, petit pois a la Français and endive for others who prefer salad. Naturally, there’s a steak au poivre, in this case a butter-soft, dry-aged eye fillet, perfectly rested and lacquered in glossy, pleasingly piquant jus. A flounder is bathed in sauce gribiche, warmed through, and perfumed with tarragon and spiked with briny capers. The steak is pleasant enough but given its place in the heart of this kind of dining, a few variations on the theme might warrant consideration.

Some say the mark of any respectable French bistro is in its souffle. Here, the rise is ever so lofty and of the raspberry variety. A fresh, sharp sorbet (a raspberry double down) is slung on the side so as not to impede the joy of demolishing that magical cloud-like texture. A mousse au chocolat is pleasingly rich and punctuated with crunchy, bitter cacao nibs, while the crème caramel sadly misses the mark when it comes to that silky rich cleave.

The bones of this venue have held such hope for so long in being that grown-up, good dining destination this edge of the city deserves, and under Pickett’s nous and Southern’s discipline, in time it has every chance of doing so.

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