WHERE
Bronte Road Bistro

WHY
“It’s a local for us, it’s a great little French bistro, with beautiful food and the service is outstanding. It’s friendly, it’s your local, they make you feel part of the community, most importantly the food is simple, French, great quality and not too stuffy.

“I eat pretty healthily and have a pretty strict diet. Fat is not that bad for you, I’ve got a good appetite. The bistro has good portions, we usually get few shared starters and a main.”

WHAT

“The confit duck legs. And zucchini flowers for starters are pretty good … and the duck liver parfait - everything on the menu is enjoyable, I find,” says O’Keefe, who eats there about once a month. The manager, he says, knows him by name and he takes his two kids along.

ABOUT
Star forward Ryan O’Keefe won the Norm Smith Medal in 2012 and, just quietly, is a bit of a foodie on the side. “I do a lot of cooking at home. Depending on the seasons and what’s available, I get down to the Farmers Markets. I eat a lot of fresh produce and vegetables, meat and fresh seafood. At this time of the year, I cook long, slow braises, lamb neck or shoulder and heaps of vegetables.”

Bronte Road Bistro
three out of five stars
282 Bronte Rd, Waverley, 9389 3028, bronteroadbistro.com
Entrees $19, mains $34, sides $8-$10, desserts $14; $150 for two, plus drinks

Star ratings:
Five stars: Ooh la la!

Four stars: Merveilleuse

Three stars: Tres bien

Two stars: Satisfaisant

One star: Non merci

There comes a time in every vaguely busy schedule when a calendar clash means more than a simple, if inconvenient, bout of FOMO (or fear of missing out).

It says a bit about my lack of sporting knowledge that I chose to head down to Bronte Road’s hidden local on State of Origin night, part II. I need not have booked a table, nor worried about traffic - the roads were as empty as the tables and, in fact, my dinner date and I had the chef, waitress and maitre d to ourselves. Unlike Trent Hodkinson, my timing was not at its finest.

On a  normal night the bistro is a buzzy little place and, as ever, its setting is rather lovely. It is tucked back and away from the namesake thoroughfare behind banana leaves and palms in a free-standing cottage. The interior is calm and collected, if studiously inoffensive, with pine tabletops and a pale grey banquette along its conservatory wall. It feels airy, casual and unintimidating, like a local should.

Over to another code and AFL’s O’Keefe is a man with an appetite, and an eye for a healthy, well-cooked meal.

Champions of its neighbourhood, the Bistro serves Iggy’s bread from the Bronte bakery nearby and is very much a locals’ haunt. It speaks of a well-organised restaurant that perfectly fresh oysters are on the menu even when few patrons are expected. Hailing from near Bega, the little critters were just as they should be.

Scallops - and, once again, my purist penchant for doing as little as possible to good seafood rears its head - are paired with a sweet corn veloute and crushed nuts and looks just the job. Taking a lead from O’Keefe, we try the zucchini flowers, which, stuffed with prawn, take on an almost Chinese bent, brought back to the Med by a punchy sauce vierge.

Wines by the glass are easy to navigate and the Freycinet riesling, at $12 a glass, is a great match for our seafood.

I’m consistently impressed with the level of service we enjoy in Sydney. It appears to come from real knowledge and pride, rather than by rote understanding of the verb to serve. The Bistro is a fine demonstration of neighbourly warmth without being showy or shallow and we are gently nudged this way or that, when we um and err over sides and starters.

Duck confit, as recommended by our Swan, is soft and melty, pulling away from the bone and with the right amount of translucent fat at its synapses. But it has been oversalted and its accompanying salardaise potatoes can’t shake a giveaway undernote that hints at a reheated recent history.

The kingfish is on the overdone side, with a big heap of roasted fennel, crispy kale and broad beans. Sides include a shredded cabbage salad with mint and Persian feta and duck fat potatoes with rosemary. The steak frites will have to wait til next time.

A blob of lovely, bitter Seville marmalade ice-cream makes me think of Heston Blumenthal’s reimagined fry-up breakfast and instead, sits a little off kilter next to a very sweet quince and pear crumble in a ramekin.The food seems to be the only element of the Bistro that is a little less true to itself than the rest.

As bistros should be, it’s homely and friendly and full of cheer, even if the Blues did steal all the atmosphere.