Clarence Woolloongabba restaurant review – MASHAHER

Where, ideally, would you locate a restaurant like Clarence?

Imagine this 44-seater in James Street – not one of those flash spots, but somewhere low-lit and intimate such as Essa. It would absolutely crush.

There’s a stack of aptitude behind this place. Original owner Ben McShane is a former sous chef at Nineteen at The Star on the Gold Coast, and Umu in London. Before that, he was a junior sous at the now-closed Stokehouse Q and Kiyomi, also at The Star.

Coming on as partners more recently are Matt Kuhnemann and Mitch Tucker. Kuhnemann worked with McShane at Two Lights, an East London sister restaurant of two Michelin-starred The Clove Club, and went on to the one-starred Elystan Street.

Tucker was co-sous with McShane at Nineteen, before becoming that restaurant’s head chef. They also worked together at Kiyomi and Stokehouse Q.

That elevated-dining DNA is always there at Clarence, lurking in the background. It’s in the technique and the reverence for produce, and in the classy service, which for the most part effortlessly glides that line between attentiveness and familiarity.

But back in early 2022, McShane originally set out to make a counterpoint to those kinds of restaurants.

Clarence was a COVID baby. Temporarily stood down from his position at Nineteen early in the pandemic, for the first time in his career McShane was cooking for himself seven days a week. Instead of restaurant-style food heavy on umami, he gravitated towards lighter flavours and using more vegetables. It’s a personal journey McShane wanted to share at Clarence.

But you need to be seriously good to pull this off. Without all those big flavours and flourishes, a chef can be left exposed. Thankfully, Clarence nails it more often than not.

Some of it’s so wonderfully simple. The fragrance of snap-fried shishitos fills the dining room before they land on the table, tossed in a pepperoni vinaigrette and accompanied by a French onion dip. The peppers are sweet and juicy; the dip given a glow-up with a dash of cream cheese and yoghurt. It’s the kind of comfort food you could eat all night.

Clarence’s menu is presented as a constantly evolving set (so, fair warning, it will have changed by the time you read this) with three shared entrees; a choice of four mains, which come with sides of duck-fat chips and a leaf salad; and a choice of two desserts. The shishitos are part of an optional selection of snacks. These are worth exploring (despite a slightly ho-hum scallop and potato pave number) given the core menu will set you back – wait, say that price again?! – yes, $75 a person.

And this is no slapdash lunchtime prix fixe. We’re dining on a Friday night. At 7.30pm. It’s stupidly good value, particularly when you consider what’s on the plate.

Entrees are poached Mooloolaba king prawns; cold roasted veal with bagna cauda; and Cooper’s Shoot tomatoes from northern NSW.

It’s the tomatoes we end up fighting over. Glossy and sweet, they sit on a bed of Mont Priscilla cow’s cheese that’s been softened out with milk, and pops with notes of citrus and honeysuckle. It plays like the best caprese salad you’ve never had.

The veal is also killer. Thinly sliced, roasted medium rare, and finished with the celery and dollops of bagna cauda, it captures Clarence’s knack for classy restraint.

Perhaps a touch too restrained are the prawns, which are served with silky melon gazpacho. It’s an adequate dish that never quite adds up to the sum of its parts.

It’s stupidly good value, particularly when you consider what’s on the plate.

Of the mains, a duck with red kuri pumpkin, creamed cabbage and plum custard is the pick. Dry-aged and brined before being roasted in the pan, the skin is crisped just so, the meat pink and supple. There are a lot of dud duck dishes out there. This is not one of them.

A pan-fried fillet of coral trout with zucchini, basil and a parsley veloute is arguably more accomplished; it pops with colour, and the line-caught fish is cooked exquisitely. But such a heavy, rich sauce doesn’t seem suited to the crushingly humid Brisbane summer night on which we’re dining.

For dessert, there’s an inspired spin on a Filipino mango royale that swaps out the cream for a semi-set yoghurt mousse. It’s light, acidic and clean-eating. A soft chocolate with cherries and whisky raisin ice cream is the opposite, and too heavy for us after such a generous meal.

The drinks? We pick over a fabulous little wine list that has no particular thrust other than being Australian and small-producer focused – think, a savoury puncheon-aged Minim “Colbinabbin” vermentino, or a spicy, creamy Scorpo pinot gris. There are just a few wines by the glass, but our server happily offers to crack a bottle if something in particular takes our interest. Always a nice touch.

As for the setting, Clarence leans into its simplicity, making the most of the heritage building’s raw brick walls and high ceilings. The team expanded early last year by knocking through a wall into the neighbouring tenancy, and moving much of the cooking equipment out front behind a curved counter, which gives the dinner service a nice sense of theatre. A newer banquette is mixed with some slightly tired secondhand furniture, but the team is frank about it all being a work in progress.

Still, you wonder how it would go in a custom fit-out in a buzzier precinct. Not here, in this beautiful old building that sits in the shadow of the monstrous Mater Hill hospital precinct and on Stanley Street, one of those Brisbane arterials that once carried streetcars but these days pumps with traffic. If you don’t live in the area, it can be a pain to get to.

The restaurant has a dedicated cadre of regulars (and serious food influencers froth over this place regularly), but McShane will tell you Clarence could always be busier.

It undoubtedly deserves to be.