REVIEW | EAT > Cichetti Cable Beach Broome (17/20)

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Set on the corner of King and Collins, Harriot is where Melbourne’s European ambitions shimmer brightest. Think discreet bon vivant, white tablecloths and all. Yet beneath the crisp linen and glass is a quietly restless soul, drawing whispers from Parisian bistros but thumping a resolutely Melbourne tune.

Step inside and it’s luminous—a 60-seat ode to light, timber, and gentle polish. But forget formality; Chef James Kelly (Lyle’s, London; Embla) is cooking with purpose, confident enough to let the week’s best produce do most of the talking.

FOOD >

Picture plates carrying just-picked baby cos from Day’s Walk Farm or Sher Wagyu dressed with native crunch. You might start with tuna tart, rye shells giving way to rich, fermented porcini, or find yourself face-to-face with a pig’s head terrine, globe artichoke balancing all that deep, savoury comfort.

The kitchen’s wood-fired oven lends rainbow trout a fleeting smokiness—flashed for just 10seconds after a gentle cure, then paired with trout roe and lovage oil that’s herbaceous, fresh, somehow both simple and self-assured. Don’t skip the gnocchi: little potato pillows swimming in black kale and Comté, truffled up when the season allows, more than holding their own for the plant-inclined.

Meat lovers get the best of nose-to-tail, too—lamb sweetbreads with a snap of finger lime, duck from Great Ocean, Wagyu that’s outrageously tender but never showy. The Aylesbury duck is served pink perfection with a crisp skin and cara cara orange. If the calamari is on the menu it is definitely worth trying served in a duck broth with truffles it is sensational.

Almost everything arrives with a perfectly judged pour, thanks to sommelier Justin Howe’s wine cellar new-wave Australians jostling with esoteric Europeans for your affection, Magnum format readily on offer.

DRINK >

The wine program at Harriot is not just thoughtful—it is loving, global, and quietly daring. Sommelier Justin Howe’s list was meticulously curated over two years prior to opening. Glasses tilt heavily towards new-world Australians—a salute to local heroes and innovative winemakers—yet, it’s the curious and highly selective small European producers that add a fizz of originality. There’s a sense of generosity at play: Magnums are poured with gusto, and off-beat bins from lesser-trodden corners of Burgundy or Galicia show up for the sharp-eyed. The staff deftly guide you through possibilities—never prescriptive, always delighting in surprise. Trust the pairing on your tasting menu, and let Justin’s rarefied cellar tell a story with every course.

DESIGN >

Harriot’s interiors are a breath of fresh (and filtered) air on Collins Street: light pours in from tall windows, setting off billows of white tablecloth and polished timber. There’s an airiness to the room that borders on the ethereal—Scandinavian restraint meeting Parisian sophistication, all softened by those uniquely Melbourne touches (a full herb garden tucked beside the pass, the glint of native eucalypt beneath the finish). It’s a serene, contemplative space—a modern bistro unconcerned with bustle—where each seat feels intentionally placed, every line etched for light and comfort. While it tips its hat to Europe, Harriot belongs unmistakably to Melbourne: a space for long lunches that gently give way to Champagne dusk.

CONCLUSION >

Harriot is not about culinary fireworks; instead, it’s quiet confidence, a startup’s fearlessness beneath a legacy’s polish. Perfect for a quick lunch or settle in for the winter menu degustation. Go for dinner and order a couple of oysters and a French Pearl to start—gin, lime, mint, pastis, appetite instantly whetted. Stay for the six-course set menu, private room if you dare. Finish with a pass by the trolley for eau de vie, Cognac, a little something imported illicitly in a chef’s suitcase from Paris.

In a city that sometimes confuses flash for substance, Harriot is proof that refinement doesn’t have to shout. Here, the conversation is always interesting—if you’re listening.