There’s a quiet little ritual the Girl and I have held onto for nearly three decades now. Every year, when our anniversary rolls around, we do something a little special. It always revolves around food, of course it does, and usually involves tracking down the very best restaurant we can find. When we lived in Hong Kong, this often meant a sneaky weekend abroad, chasing down experiences we could forever remember. Sometimes the payoff was extraordinary… and sometimes, well, let’s just say a Michelin Star doesn’t always mean a magical evening.

This year marked our 28th anniversary (I know, where does the time go? It genuinely feels like we were married only a few weeks ago), and even though we’re back in Brisbane these days, we wanted something that still carried that sense of occasion. So after scouring the country, weighing up every hot contender from Hobart to Perth, we settled on a long weekend away in Sydney and a reservation at Sixpenny; arguably one of Australia’s most respected dining rooms, and long considered one of the standard-bearers for contemporary fine dining in the country.

Sixpenny opened in 2012, tucked into a simple little corner terrace in Stanmore. If you didn’t know better, you’d mistake it for a neighbourhood café, which is exactly what I love about it. Inside, though, is the legacy of Daniel Puskas, one of Australia’s most quietly influential chefs. His background reads like a modern fine-dining syllabus: Sepia, Oscillate Wildly and even some time at world famous 3-star restaurant Alinea (part of his Josephine Pignolet Young Chef of the Year prize.) The restaurant has held three Good Food Guide hats across multiple years and built a cult following for its hyper-seasonal tasting menu philosophy: produce sourced from local growers, their own Bowral farm, and a pantry built on fermentation.

So we definitely arrived with high expectations of a great meal ahead.

However, the weekend very nearly didn’t happen. Sydney was forecast for severe storms and our original flight time was squarely in the “you’ll be circling the airport for hours” danger zone. Cue some frantic early-morning rebooking and an eye-watering extra cost, but we made it into Sydney well before the airport shut down. It was a genius move as our regular flight time did indeed get caught up in serious delays that may have ruined our weekend away!

The silver lining? We suddenly had an extra full day to reacquaint ourselves with the city. Twenty thousand plus steps later, pleasantly exhausted and slightly windswept, we headed back to the hotel to get ready for what we hoped would be a memorable night at Sixpenny.

Stanmore isn’t exactly where you’d expect to find one of the country’s top dining rooms, but that’s part of its charm. It’s a quiet little suburban strip; a fish and chipper, a bottlo, a bakery, a few local shops; and right in the middle of it, Sixpenny glows softly from behind lace curtains.

We arrived a little early, so we took a wander, peeking into restaurant windows and enjoying that strange mix of excitement and hunger that only a special dinner can conjure. At our scheduled reservation time of 6:30pm, we were greeted warmly at the door and led into the compact main dining room: soft lighting, smooth wood, comfortable spacing, the kind of serene atmosphere that makes you unconsciously lower your voice. It’s intimate without being cramped, refined without ever feeling stuffy.

There’s no choosing here! Sixpenny is a tasting menu only restaurant, and rightly so. The menu is built around thoughtful combinations, seasonal clarity, subtle fermentations, and a deliberate sense of restraint. No dish screams for attention; instead, each one whispers its own quiet little story.

The Girl ordered a glass of wine to start (she opted against the full pairing), and with that, the first bites arrived.

We’d added half a dozen oysters because… well, because why not! And we gave a little happy dance after we did. Plump, cool, and delicately sweet with almost no salinity, the kind of oysters you want to linger on for a moment.

The formal start of the tasting menu was a trio of snacks.

The Baby Cucumber with Sunflower Seed Butter was visually refreshing with tiny emerald segments covered in delicate leaves, like little green armadillos. Fresh, sweet, clean, with an earthy elegance. A perfect opener.

Next was the Smoked Eel Pancake with Pickled Golden Beetroot. One-bite (or in the Girl’s case, two-bite) of happiness. Beautifully presented, creamy, lightly smoky, with the beetroot adding just enough acidity to brighten everything up.

Lastly, the Blue Mackerel Tart with Oyster Emulsion – so pretty it almost felt rude to eat it. Fresh and subtly fatty, sitting on a thin, delicate tart shell that had just enough texture to hold everything together without overshadowing the mackerel.

All three were delightful, but my favourite was the smoked eel because of its layers of flavour and complexity.

The Cured Silver Trevally with Avocado and Fermented Nashi Pear was the first of the ‘main’ courses of the menu. Visually it was a little understated, but it’s presentation did leave us wondering what treasures would be opening to us under the covering of the Nashi: a gentle, slightly more robust flavour profile, the fermented pear added both texture and a playful tang. A dish that left us wanting just a little bit more, always a good sign at this point in the menu.

Next was the Roasted Quail with Sweetcorn and Burnt Apple and honestly, the sweetcorn sauce was the first truly addictive thing of the night; rich, sweet, sunshiney. The burnt apple added a clever contrast, cutting through what could otherwise have been too much sweetness. The quail itself was cooked perfectly, tender and juicy. If anything, we would have loved just a touch more protein to balance the generosity of the sauce… but again, we were left wanting more.

A beautifully plated dish, the W.A. Marron with Coral Trout Butter was clean, elegant, restrained. The marron was sweet, delicate, and basically perfect. I found myself taking smaller and smaller bites just to prolong it. The accompaniments added texture and contrast, and while the coral trout butter was lovely, part of me wished for a more assertive sauce to anchor it, perhaps a velvety plate licking sauce. But still: a gorgeous plate of food.

I was so happy to see the Rangers Valley Wagyu Rib Cap with Celeriac & Wasabina; Rib Cap is just about my favourite cut of beef at the moment, and this dish reminded me exactly why. Perfectly cooked, full of buttery beef flavour, and served with a sticky, glossy sauce worth savouring. The celeriac quenelle was neat, elegant, and added a gentle earthiness.

We’ve seen so many incredible restaurants lose the plot with with a main of beef; adding truffle and foie gras in an attempt to overkill a dish with ‘luxury’ items that add little in the way of complimenting the beef, so this level of simplicity was refreshingly clean and confident.

We moved onto the first of the desserts with the Mead Vinegar Custard with Frozen Raspberries & Strawberry Consommé. This was as pretty as anything we’d seen for the night, as visually contrasted as the beautiful balance of sharp and sweet. The frozen raspberries delivered a sharp little hit, softened by the custard, and the consommé tied it all together. Light, refreshing, and extremely moreish.

The final dessert of the night (or at the time, we thought final dessert) was the Salted Banana Ice Cream with Coffee & Hazelnut. This one split the table. The Girl wasn’t a fan, but I really enjoyed it. Yes, the banana was soft (and I usually hate soft banana), but the dish had layers, hazelnut crunch at the bottom, creamy banana elements in the centre, the ice cream itself sitting neatly on top. Interesting, different, and a nice departure from the standard “dark chocolate finale”.

But ironically the chocolate dessert element was still to come… To celebrate our 28 years of matrimonial bliss, Sixpenny surprised us with a chocolate mousse dome; glossy, rich, and beautifully presented alongside a charming illustrated card of the restaurant façade.

A lovely gesture, and a genuinely delicious (and thankfully light) dessert.

To finish, a ring of warm madeleines arrived surrounding a little pot of cream – soft, comforting, and exactly how a meal like this should end.

Service throughout the night was faultless. Warm, polished, never stuffy, and the pacing was perfect. There wasn’t a moment where we wondered where the next dish was; each one arrived just when it felt natural.

At one point we watched a couple attempt a walk‑in at this three‑hat restaurant, on a Saturday night, in the suburbs… with no reservation. It didn’t go well. But our evening certainly did.

Sixpenny delivered a genuinely lovely dining experience with a beautiful room, excellent ingredients, quietly confident cooking, and thoughtful composition across the menu. It was one of the better meals we’ve had since being back in Australia. That said, there wasn’t one dish that completely blew us away; nothing I’ll be dreaming about in a year’s time – but that doesn’t detract from how consistently good the entire menu was.

Since the announcement that New Zealand would be getting the Michelin Guide, there’s been lots of talk about Australia following suit…. Would Sixpenny get a Michelin star if the guide ever reached our shores? I think yes, absolutely, the experience puts it firmly in that conversation.

Would it have enough iconic, unforgettable dishes to climb into two or three‑star territory? Maybe not yet.

Would we come back? Living in Sydney, for sure yes; it’s exactly the sort of spot we’d happily wander back to a few times a year. But I think that if I was making plans for another interstate trip, I’d want to check out some other spots first.

Was it worthy of our Anniversary dinner? Without a doubt!