High in the Adelaide Hills on the edge of Bridgewater is the old Bridgewater flour mill. Built in the 1860s and lovingly converted over a century later into a cellar door and gourmet restaurant among the gum trees, with a working waterwheel.
The home and cellar door of Petaluma Wines was founded in 1976. Thirty seven years later, on a Spring day, it is a particularly beautiful setting out on the deck, listening to the splash and rumble of the water wheel, smiling on the bright yellow mimosa flourishing along the edge of the creek.
The menu is contemporary Australian with a Japanese touch, using many locally sourced ingredients. On a Sunday and public holidays, eating here means a three-course set menu price at an extravagant $90 per person. A tasting menu at $95 per head is also available for group bookings.
In spite of my initial, reflexive gasp at the cost (wine was not included), this was a special occasion, so I won’t gripe. And luckily it turned out to be well worth the price, for a fascinating culinary journey of artistically arranged, eye-catching dishes. I can’t say we enjoyed every flavour combination, but we could not fault the sophisticated effort put into each dish. And while we were initially taken aback at the small servings, in the end we left the table completely sated.
The wine list is an extensive and colourful array of beautiful Petaluma and 
Bridgewater Mill’s best wines, but we were celebrating a birthday, so it had to be the bubbles – or as it is officially baptized: 2008 Croser Rosé from the Piccadilly Valley, in honour of founder Brian Croser. Comfortably sipping at our glasses of blushing effervescence, the four of us were primed to explore the menu, and eventually made the following decisions:
The Adelaide Hill’s veal was gently, pinkly grilled and served with an apple, celeriac and mustard cream. I loved the veal, it was most beautifully cooked, but its delicate flavour was a little lost under the mustard sauce. So we learned to dab the meat lightly with mustard and it then turned into the number one favourite.
The buttered crayfish tail, served with braised daikon (oriental radish), seaweed consommé and shaved bonito (dried fish flakes) required a dictionary and proved to be an unusual fusion of flavours that impressed no one. Unfortunately, the flavour of the tiny, almost invisible portion of crayfish was overwhelmed by the overt, unattractive seaweed and dried fish consommé.
On the other hand, the seared scallops were perfection… and perfect on their own. What is this ridiculous fashion for surf and turf? The scallops were certainly not improved by the dry, poached chicken. Try again. Give us an extra scallop or two and discard the chook! At $28 per entrée surely you can afford the extravagance?
Luckily, despite a somewhat disappointing start, we can do nothing but rave about the main courses.
Duck confit (confit de canard) is a specialty of Gascony consisting of a cured 
(salted) duck leg cooked in its own fat. Topped with beautifully crisped skin and served with local Kanmantoo bacon, white beans, rosemary and cabbage, the taste combination was delectable: a sophisticated comfort food that warmed and delighted.
Turning again to the fish, the birthday girl was far more enthused by the trout than the crayfish. Again, shallow fried to a crisp, the skin crunched while the flesh melted, and the fish was accompanied by squid balls, peas, radish and wasabi for an interesting kick. The squid balls made us all giggle like school girls, but dipped in a tempura style batter, were actually an interesting and tasty alternative to that ubiquitous and over-rated favourite, fried calamari.
We all managed to order different dishes this time, with the expectation of a little sharing. Well, all I can say about the pan-fried gnocchi with king brown mushroom, chanterelles, Gruyere and Jerusalem artichokes is that it must have been absolutely delicious, as my dearly beloved aunt was MOST unwilling to share!
Never mind, I survived well enough on my Hahndorf venison – we had waved at those sweet, self-sacrificing deer as we drove up the freeway – seared and served with glazed pear, black pudding, polenta and walnuts. I am not an avid fan of polenta, but in this case, it had been paired perfectly to add texture and not distract from the strong, earthy flavour of the lightly seared venison. And the small cubes of black pudding were an exotic addition.
The bubbles were gone, but we were now drooling over the dessert menu. A dish 
of cinnamon apple, poached rhubarb, toffee and walnut crumble was shared with enthusiasm. Hot molten chocolate cake with mandarin segments and burnt orange ice cream? Irresistible! And a selection of local and imported cheese, with fennel toast… well, there were no local cheeses as it turned out, but I’m not complaining. I all but licked the plate clean… and far too greedily to note down what they were, sorry!
A pricey lunch indeed, and not an unequivocal success, but the chef must get credit for some bravely alternative experiments with flavour and texture, and combined with the congenial surroundings and friendly, informed staff, not to mention the birthday bubbles, there were no loud complaints. It seems all was for the best in this best of all possible worlds on a serene Sunday afternoon.
*With thanks to Google Images for the shot of Bridgewater Mill and to my daughter for her foodie photos.