The king is dead, long live the king…

Even though we were living in a different country, we always kept an eye on what was happening in the Brisbane food scene, just as a way to feel a little connected to home.

Unsurprisingly, during our ten years away (and especially through Covid) there were a lot of closures. But none hit harder than hearing about the closure of Montrachet.

While we didn’t go to Montrachet all the time, it was our go‑to restaurant when we wanted to pamper ourselves with beautifully presented, deeply satisfying French food. It literally never let us down.

Originally opened in 2004 on Given Terrace in Paddington by Lyon‑born chef Thierry Galichet and his wife Carol, Montrachet quickly established itself as one of Brisbane’s most authentic French dining rooms. For more than a decade it operated as a true Parisian‑style brasserie large inviting windows, red leather booths, a marble bar, and a menu built on classic techniques.

The Paddington dining room was always busy, so much so that it was often a little too cramped to be completely comfortable; but the food more than made up for that small quibble. And those dishes… the double‑baked crab soufflé, escargot, steak frites, they became fixtures not just on the menu, but in Brisbane’s collective dining memory.

In April 2015, the restaurant was sold to Shannon Kellam and Clare Wallace, with Galichet remaining involved through his wine importing business, ensuring Montrachet’s formidable French wine list remained very much intact.

Two years later, in late October 2017, the original Paddington location closed, and Montrachet was reborn shortly after, reopening on 2 December 2017 at King Street in Bowen Hills.

The new venue was more than double the size of the original, brighter and more contemporary. But despite the move, the heart of Montrachet, its classic French soul, felt reassuringly familiar.

So it was with a great deal of sadness that we learned that, after twenty years of operation, Montrachet had been placed into voluntary administration in July 2024, a casualty of the same brutal combination of rising costs, wages and utilities that has claimed far too many good restaurants in recent years.

Because we were away, we never got the chance for one last visit, something we’ll always regret. There are a number of restaurants that closed while we were overseas that we’ll forever lament missing that final meal at… but that’s another story for another time.

But as it turns out, the idea of Montrachet was simply too strong to disappear.

In October 2024, the restaurant entered what can only be described as its third life, rescued and reborn under the ownership of Michelin‑trained French chef Clément Chauvin, best known locally for Canberra’s Les Bistronomes. Montrachet officially reopened on 1 October 2024, still in Bowen Hills, but now under Chauvin’s stewardship.

The king is dead, long live the king.

So of course, Montrachet was one of the first restaurants we visited upon our return from Hong Kong. We’d grown a little tired of French fine dining there, largely due to flavours being softened to suit local palates, and food that too often felt overworked, leading to meals that left us wondering whether we were simply burnt out on French food, or just burnt out on the Hong Kong version of it.

As it turns out, it was definitely more of the latter: One meal at Montrachet was enough to remind us why we loved French cuisine in the first place.

I’d recently landed a new job, so we decided to celebrate, and Montrachet felt like a very fitting place to do just that. We booked a mid‑week table in the lead‑up to Christmas and made our way back for another visit.

The current iteration of Montrachet is larger and more contemporary than the Paddington version. The white tablecloths and red banquettes remain, along with plenty of red chairs, but the kitchen is now fully on display and the dining room feels far less compressed than before.

I always love sitting with a view of the kitchen. While I technically had one on this visit, we were right at the front of the dining room; and the new space is large enough that I felt like I needed a pair of binoculars to keep an eye on what was happening back there.

The menu isn’t radically different from before. Some classics have carried across ownership changes, joined by all the dishes you’d expect from a confident contemporary French restaurant. There’s a tasting menu (which we ignored this time), along with several generous mains designed for sharing; but those would have to wait, as we both knew what we were ordering the moment the menus hit the table.

We started with crunchy French baguette and tomato‑infused butter. The bread was freshly baked that day and utterly delicious. We were particularly hungry and made short work of it, slathering thick slices with the zingy butter. Thankfully, one of the wait staff seemed to clock our particular brand of hunger almost immediately, offering a fresh round with a wink and a quiet, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

Our starters arrived, and the girl had ordered arguably the restaurant’s most famous dish: Le soufflé au crabe et au Comté, a double‑baked soufflé with crab meat and Comté cheese, finished with a light cream bisque. A dish so good it transcended the closure of the original Montrachet and carried on into its new life (I assume there would have been riots in the streets otherwise).

I’d had this dish on an earlier visit and deliberately ordered something different this time. That resolve lasted right up until the soufflé hit the table, at which point I immediately questioned my life choices. It’s almost impossible to describe just how good this dish is. The balance of sweet crab and nutty Comté is flawless, and the richness of the bisque elevates it into something truly special.

Thankfully, the girl shared more than I would have had our positions been reversed, which made me very happy.

My starter was La poitrine de porc, glazed pork belly with black pudding purée and pickled peaches. It sounded intriguing, and I wasn’t entirely convinced the peaches would work. The dish itself was both pretty and rustic, with shards of crunchy pork crackling scattered amongst the black pudding purée, peach purée and pickled peach segments.

While the pork was a touch firmer than I’d have liked, there wasn’t a great deal of rendered fat in my portion, the contrast between the rich, earthy meat and the sharpness of the pickled peaches worked beautifully. It was enjoyable and thoughtfully composed, even if it wasn’t quite the showstopper that the soufflé so clearly was.

For mains, the girl chose Le poisson du jour (fish of the day), which happened to be John Dory, one of our favourite fish varieties. It arrived bathing in a seafood bisque, meaning she was effectively double‑dipping on bisque across two courses, which proved just a little too rich for her palate.

The fish itself was cooked beautifully, firm yet yielding, and worked very nicely with the bisque. A touch of anchovy had been added to help cut through the richness, but balancing each mouthful took a bit of effort, making the dish slightly more challenging to eat than it needed to be.

I went with La ballotine de poulet, free‑range chicken ballotine with foie gras and tarragon mousse, cauliflower purée and blackberry jus. It arrived looking warm, rustic and deeply inviting. One bite was enough to confirm I’d chosen wisely.

The chicken and foie gras mousse delivered a deep, savoury umami hit, complemented by contrasting textures from the crisp elements on the plate. The sauce clung to the palate with lingering richness, lifted by just a hint of sharpness from the fresh blackberries. The portion was generous too, with two thick slices of ballotine. This was classic French cooking at its most comforting and confident; and I was extremely happy with it.

It’s surprisingly difficult to find a well‑executed soufflé in Hong Kong, so dessert was never really up for debate. We ordered Soufflé à la passion, Chef Clément’s signature dessert; passionfruit soufflé, chilli explosion and coconut sorbet.

Perfectly risen and beautifully presented, the idea is to pop a small chocolate sphere of liquid chilli (very mild) into your mouth before taking your first bite of the soufflé. The result is a gentle warmth that plays against the light, sweet soufflé, made even better by the creamy coconut sorbet. It was a visual and textural delight, and a superb way to end the meal.

When we arrived, the restaurant was largely empty and we were among the first diners. By the midpoint of our meal, the dining room had filled nicely, giving us the chance to chat with the manager about our travels and our return to Australia.

As we were wrapping up, what really stood out was the number of tables receiving entrées, and in particular, how many of them were devouring the double‑baked crab soufflé, each table wearing the same unmistakable look of delight.

As we left feeling full and completely satisfied, we were grateful that Chef Clément had kept Montrachet alive. Food trends are cyclical, and there’s been a noticeable resurgence of French bistros opening across Brisbane in recent years.

If Montrachet is anything to go by, that resurgence is in very safe hands.

Which is excellent news for us! We love French cuisine, and this meal reminded us exactly why.