EAT > Stallion, Mansfield Victoria (16/20)

Since the closing of Bounty in Bonnie Doon and BOS Taurus in Mansfield, the fine dining offerings in this alpine region have been very limited. Not to say you can’t get a good steak and there are gourmet pizza’s and Thai but nothing you would really say this is definitely worth visiting. But now STALLION is the kind of regional restaurant that makes a detour to Mansfield feel not only justified, but essential. 

AMBIENCE >

Stallion sits in the old fire station on Highett Street, a handsome brick shell that now glows with inner-city energy: woodfire flicker, polished concrete, and a low-lit dining room that hums from the first sitting into late night. The room is pitched as a modern Euro‑Italian dining room “fueled by fire”, and that flame is the quiet centrepiece – from the open wood grill to the char-kissed edges of just about everything that leaves the pass.

There’s an easy, confident rhythm to service: staff move fast but never rushed, threading between tight two-tops along the banquette and larger tables that soak up Mansfield weekender groups and locals celebrating something (or nothing at all). Noise levels run energetic rather than hushed, more Melbourne wine bar than countryside bistro, and the soundtrack tracks accordingly – a little louder as the night gets later, matching a cocktail list that is clearly designed to keep you here for “one more”.

If you’ve known this address as Honcho or, further back, as the Old Fire Station Bistro & Grill, Stallion feels like a sharpened evolution: the bones are familiar, but the styling, menu and mood have clicked into a more focused, more grown-up register.

EAT >

The brief is modern Euro‑Italian with a fire-leaning spine, and Stallion sticks to that with conviction: think wood-roasted vegetables with proper bitterness and smoke, grilled meats with fat rendered just-snapping, and pasta that speaks with an Italian accent rather than slavishly copying trattoria classics. A mafaldine “frutti di mare” – one of the early signatures – runs wide frilled ribbons through a glossy shellfish sauce, the chew of good durum wheat meeting sweetness and brine from the seafood and a lick of chilli heat.

Small dishes like wild kingfish crudo served with burn buttermilk, finger lime and foraged coastal herbs were both generous and tasty. The Fritto Misto (calamari, whitebait, tarama herbs and pickled lemon) was a crunchy fried treat ($24) and the Robbins Island Wagyu Beef Tartare (served with stolen plums, pepperberry mayo, salt bush and a wagyu bresola) was so moorish ($26).

That woodfire does some of the kitchen’s best talking. It powers share‑ish plates that feel right at home in a regional town used to hearty portions: perhaps a bone‑in pork chop with fat blistered and caramelised, or a whole fish dragged through the embers until the skin takes on a deep, resinous smokiness. Smaller plates – a pizzetta special the team have been workshopping on the pans, or something vegetal and clever from the grill – let you build the table outwards to feed a group.

Pasta, though, is where the room leans in. Stallion’s crew clearly care about doughs; there’s a tactile, hand‑worked feel to noodles, whether it’s a long, sauce‑hugging shape glossed with high‑shine butter and cheese or something more left‑of‑centre that nods to Europe without feeling bound by it. It is the sort of menu that rewards both the “set menu, you decide” diner and the picker‑mixers – robust, seasonal, and pitched a notch above what you might expect this far from the city.

My choice was the “Not Lasagne” a crown of pasta filled with truffle bechamel and a smoked beef ragu served with pecorino pangratto massively tasty at $42.

DRINK >

A modern Euro‑Italian brief demands a considered wine list, and Stallion answers with bottles that lean towards food‑friendly and characterful: think a tight edit of Italian varietals, regional Victorian labels and the kind of textural whites and lighter reds that play nicely with smoke and fat. It feels compact rather than encyclopaedic, but there’s enough range to keep both serious drinkers and “just something nice by the glass” crews happy.

We discovered the Corofin Pinot Noir here and were very happy with the choice, while this is not a wine list with super premium DRC on the list it does come complete with some lovely choices that are sure to keep your taste buds elated.

Cocktails are part of the story here, too. The room’s late‑night energy is backed by a proper bar program – leaning into spritzes, bitter‑tilted aperitivo builds and stronger, darker nightcaps that match a wood‑fired menu and the High Country’s cooler nights. It’s very easy to slide from “pre‑dinner Negroni” to “post‑dessert amaro” without ever feeling like you should be anywhere else.

CONCLUSION >

Stallion is that rare regional restaurant that feels equally built for destination diners and locals – a wood‑fired, Euro‑Italian room with real intent, proper cooking and a late‑night mood that wouldn’t feel out of place down a Melbourne laneway. Come for the mafaldine and the grill, stay for the second bottle and the sense that Mansfield’s dining scene has just levelled up again and that I have found a new local!

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Image Credit | ALMANAK & Stallion Mansfield

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