Melbourne’s laneways have long been a canvas for urban storytelling, but few projects dare to weave history, gastronomy, and design into a single narrative as boldly as Côte Basque. This new restaurant from Andrew McConnell and Jo McGann isn’t just another addition to the city’s dining scene—it’s a calculated act of cultural preservation dressed in contemporary ambition. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the team has chosen to honor the past without being shackled by it, creating something that feels both timeless and urgently modern. Personally, I think this approach speaks to a broader shift in how we value heritage: not as a museum piece, but as a living, breathing dialogue between eras.
The building’s lineage is no accident. From Pellegrini’s Tavola Freddo Cantina in 1954 to Becco in the ’90s, this space has always been a stage for culinary evolution. But what struck me most was the decision to retain the 1950s green terrazzo floors and cherrywood panelling. It’s not just about nostalgia—it’s about creating a tactile memory for diners. Imagine sitting in a room where the wood grain under your feet whispers of decades past, while the scent of charred lamb wafts from a grill that’s been reimagined for the 21st century. That juxtaposition feels like a masterclass in sensory storytelling. What many people don’t realize is that such details aren’t just aesthetic choices; they’re psychological triggers. They anchor you in a moment, making the experience of eating feel like a pilgrimage rather than a meal.
ACME’s role here is critical. Their collaboration with McConnell and McGann has always been about balance—like a tightrope walker straddling tradition and innovation. This time, they’ve leaned into the building’s mid-century bones but injected a fresh energy through the 12-meter mural by Magnus Reid. Now, I’m curious about Reid’s background as a chef. Does that influence his art? It makes me wonder if the mural’s textures and colors were chosen to mirror the smoky, layered flavors of Basque cuisine. The bar, with its leather lining and strategic placement near the entrance, feels like a deliberate nod to casual dining, yet it’s elevated by the mural’s scale. It’s a reminder that even in a restaurant focused on authenticity, the design must still serve the modern diner’s desire for spectacle.
The tiered dining rooms are another stroke of genius. By creating distinct zones—casual bar, intimate private space, and the main restaurant—they’ve crafted a microcosm of Melbourne’s social fabric. The Galleon Room, with its curtain system, is especially intriguing. It’s a space that can morph from a private event venue to a hidden gem, depending on the day. This flexibility speaks to a trend I’ve noticed: restaurants are increasingly becoming multi-functional hubs. But what’s fascinating is how they’ve done this without sacrificing the building’s original character. It’s as if the architecture itself is complicit in the transformation, rather than resisting it.
Let’s talk about the grill. McConnell’s obsession with the Basque region’s wood-fire cooking isn’t just culinary—it’s philosophical. Cooking over flame is primal, messy, and unpredictable. Yet in a city known for its precision and polish, this approach feels rebellious. What this really suggests is a growing appetite for imperfection in dining. People are tired of sterile, over-curated experiences. They want to see the char on the meat, hear the crackle of the fire, and feel the heat radiating from the grill. It’s a return to the roots of hospitality, where the act of cooking is as much about connection as it is about technique.
I can’t help but think about what this means for Melbourne’s future. Côte Basque isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a blueprint. It shows how cities can coexist with their histories without being defined by them. And yet, there’s a risk here. If every new project tries to replicate this balance, will the magic of the original become diluted? Or will it inspire a new generation of chefs and designers to push boundaries even further? One thing is certain: this place isn’t just about food. It’s about redefining what it means to be part of a city’s story, one flame, one mural, one terrazzo tile at a time.
