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Clucky for Maison Bâtard

Chris Lucas has ushered in the Paris end of Bourke Street.

Alexandra Carlton |
Clucky for Maison Bâtard
Maison Bâtard, a four-level, French-accented haven located in the transformed heritage site at 23 Bourke Street, Melbourne.

Oysters. Caviar. King George whiting. Beef fillet. Something with beurre blanc. Something with gribiche. New York, Paris, brasserie, bistro. In the last little while, I've started slipping into a partial coma when I read any of those words on a menu. Quite suddenly, Australian restaurauteurs decided that all any of us wants to eat is 'the classics, done well'. There's the International and Eleven Barrack in Sydney, Gibney in Perth and many others. They are almost all good restaurants. They make total sense in a chary economy where experimentation or boundary-pushing is riskier than ever. But as I prepare myself to dine at Maison Bâtard, Chris Lucas' four-level giant of the genre on Melbourne's Bourke Street, I feel my face setting into what I'm sure looks like the straight mouth emoji.

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Could I really get excited about another comté gougère or a steak tartare? 

But then. 

Then I try the chicken.

The chicken of all things, that most innocuous of proteins, one that 'proper food people' tend to snub in restaurants as gauche and basic. The Bâtard version is grandly named Poulet Rôti aux Olives and is perhaps the most delicious roast chicken I've ever eaten (it'd want to be for $110). The brined Bannockburn bird is rubbed with olive, shio kombu and coriander, and sits in a rich sauce bobbing with huge whole pitted olives.[[I recommend using the olives as a scooping vessel for the jus. Load up their seed hollow and eat at least one or two separately.]] It's savoury and sumptuous – a dream of a dish.