As an Australian living in New York for the last five years, I’m often asked what I miss about “Australian food”. I can think of a few things. Curry laksa. A savoury pie instead of a sweet one. A breakfast cafe that opens before 10am (yes, even on weekends).
But after eating at Acru, the Australian fine diner that opened in Manhattan’s Greenwich Village last month, I came to a realisation: what makes something “Australian” is actually kind of hard to define.
Acru has been making headlines (and has been booking out weeks in advance) for a few reasons.
One, it’s the latest from the team behind Korean fine diner Atomix, which currently holds two Michelin stars and is considered one of New York’s best restaurants. It’s also turning heads thanks to its young executive chef Daniel Garwood, who hails from Launceston, Tasmania, and was previously the sous-chef at Atomix.
Secondly, Acru offers New Yorkers a fine-dining deal ($95 for six courses) that, until recently, was practically unheard of.
But the third – and perhaps biggest – drawcard for New York diners might be more of a question to be answered: what the hell is an Australian restaurant anyway?
“It’s a funny one. If you look at the way people perceive [Australian food] here, it’s avo toast. You go to places like Ruby’s for a bacon-and-egg sandwich in the morning or something,” Garwood tells Broadsheet.
“There aren’t really any dishes that ‘define’ Australia, you know. I think Australian cuisine is a frame of mind – how we work and how we work towards things. How I see it, and what we’re trying to do here, is define the Australian dinner and our casual culture.”
For Garwood, that mission extends behind the scenes. Staff call him “Daniel”, not “Chef”. Acru’s family meals are served with the same plateware, glassware and cutlery as paying customers. Floor staff don’t use an electronic point-of-sale system to communicate orders to the kitchen. Instead, it’s done verbally.
Ambrose Chiang, Acru’s general manager, says that last part was a “big shock” to the American crew. “I think that’s really Australian, where everyone is your mate. We really want to showcase that.”
Chiang is another Aussie expat, originally from Sydney and once sommelier at Momofuku Seiobo.
“When we tell people we’re an Australian restaurant, the connotation is brunch or Outback Steakhouse. There’s a lot of stereotype with that. But, you know, who in New York is saying, ‘Oh, I really want to go to an Australian restaurant tonight’?”
As an Aussie who did want to go said restaurant (and ultimately got in), my expectation beforehand was a parade of native Australian ingredients. Finger lime, wattleseed, or maybe even a kangaroo steak. Instead, produce is sourced from within New York’s tri-state area. There are nods to Korean and Scandi cuisines. To that end, the menu’s “Australian-ness” is subtle. Some dishes almost feel like an inside joke that only Australians would get. But they’re always creative and, above all, fun.
The first appetiser is a “scalloped potato”, a fried, starchy spud topped with caviar and a scallop sliver; a play on the fish’n’chip shop staple. I chased it with a lemon, lime and bitters (made with fresh citrus) – a drink that’s basically non-existent in the United States. It’s something I’d long been missing as a booze-free option here.
Next comes a strip of lamb belly (Garwood tells me lamb is an underutilised ingredient in the States) glazed in something called “seamite” – Garwood’s take on the iconic black spread made with sea lettuce and kelp.
Acru’s dessert course exudes the most Aussie nostalgia: a fig leaf lamington, a spicebush pavlova and the curious golden haytime – a puck of hay-infused ice-cream that’s caramelised and served on a stick. “That whole set kind of just screams of my childhood,” says Garwood.
Garwood has plans to dial in more nostalgia at Acru. He has plans for a dish inspired by the sausage sizzle – but he’s not done tinkering. “We’ll come back to that one.”
