I desperately wanted to hate Pilot.
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I wanted to find it smug and insular. I wanted to be the one to see through the hype. So everyone says this is Canberra's finest restaurant? Well, not me, I wanted to declare.
I wanted to be that art critic who stands in front of the Rothko and - while everyone else politely mutters in agreement with the fawning wall plaque written by the curators - declares there's actually not much to see here. Hand me a brush, I could have done it myself.
But the critic who stands in front of the Rothko and declares it to be rubbish is an ignorant buffoon whose opinions are deserving of nothing more than lavish displays of public contempt.
There is a reason people say Pilot is excellent. It is because Pilot is excellent.
The trouble started with the restaurant's website, which left me with the impression Pilot was an immersive theatre experience over which one has little control and where the director doesn't much care for audience enjoyment anyway.
Get over this. Do you really need to see the wine list in advance? Just book the table.
Pilot seats 30 people in one of this city's most perfectly illuminated dining rooms. Neither too bright nor too dark, the set up is elegant and an acoustic marvel. There is a hum of conversation without great opportunity for eavesdropping.
Diners are not handed menus. You have no choice in the matter but to eat the $150-a-head multi-course menu. Options include occasional extras - the night we dined it was Shoalhaven oysters, $6 each, served with a pink rock salt and devastatingly fresh and delicious - and drinks pairings. The alcoholic version ($100 per person) and the non-alcoholic version ($60) both demonstrate Pilot's breadth and genuine interest in eating and drinking; the drinks are perfectly matched.
Pilot uses the word nostalgic to describe its flavour interests. In practice, this means inventive takes on familiar food. Pilot takes on Australia's hodge-podge culinary traditions and imbues their creations with technical accomplishment and humour. This is not cultural cringe cooking, taking the piss; instead it's laughing with and not at.
Take the dish billed as fish and chips. The chips are a blue mackerel cracker, the sauce is made from potatoes. It's subversive and cheeky cooking, and it's mighty tasty. Then there is a margarita pizza scroll - a tip of the hat to Baker's Delight - that contains flavoursome riches beyond its bite-sized form factor.
A green mango curry, a spin on a Sri Lankan dish, served on a thin, brittle rice omelette with Queensland mud crab, is zingy and clever. If you were still in any doubt about Pilot, by this point of the meal you should have all concerns ameliorated by the confident and smart food put before you.
The Wagyu rib eye, barbecued in a Japanese style, and served with what Pilot says is its only signature dish, the zippy salad, is a serious accomplishment. The meat comes from Rangers Valley, a producer in the New England tablelands, and it delivers melt-in-your-mouth excellence. The salad is no afterthought - as too often salads in dishes like this are - and together they form a classic culinary synthesis.
Two desserts round off the experience. A mandarin sorbet with fermented pumpkin curd is the combination you never knew you needed in your life. And the apple terrine, achieved with great skill and precision, has a homespun flavour quality about it. Apples laced with sugary concoctions again evoke the kind of flavour nostalgia which underpins Pilot's menu.
Pilot do not publish their wine list. This is clearly not to hide a mediocre offering. It's very good. The pairing option does elevate the meal, and the attentive and knowledgeable staff know what they're talking about. You can almost picture the vineyards and their passionate winemakers from the stories told as each course arrives.
The non-alcoholic pairing leans a little heavily towards vinegary flavours at the start, but overall demonstrates how well one can drink in the 21st century without looking to booze. The humble shandy is here elevated to new heights.
Pilot's success comes from the fact it knows its niche and sticks there. This is not a restaurant trying to be all things to all people. Maybe the harsh tone of the website is actually a stroke of genius: it filters out the fuss pots and otherwise difficult customers who demand substitutions and a menu to choose from. Free of diners who would prove to be more of a hindrance than anything, Pilot knows how to serve the people who come in wanting to try Pilot's spin on things.
And it is quite the spin. Taking the simple and familiar, Pilot pushes a heady mix of flavour and memory as far as they can comfortably go, without falling into an avant garde ravine of ego-stroking clap trap.
In the end, there's nothing to hate at Pilot. Like a Rothko, it's excellence that is first experienced, then enjoyed, and only finally understood.
Pilot
Address: 1 Wakefield Gardens, Ainslie
Phone: 02 6257 4334
Website: pilotrestaurant.com
Hours: Dinner, Wednesday to Sunday. Lunch, Saturday and Sunday.
Noise: No issue
Dietary: Advise when booking
Score: 17.5/20