Walking into Bar Morris, you could just as easily grab yourself a glass of red and a cheese board, or even a room – such is the eclectic dual purpose of this little wine bar and restaurant in the lobby of Hotel Morris. Built in 1929 and once Sydney’s tallest hotel, all 14 floors have since been dwarfed by Haymarket’s soaring highrises. And while it no longer draws crowds for its height, the ground floor is every bit as dazzling as the performers who grace the stages of the nearby State Theatre.
With a fresh facelift, old-world Art Deco meets flamboyant palazzo, with bold, theatrical design choices. There’s a pink marble bar, subway-tiled columns, glossy scarlet tabletops, glittering chandeliers and heavily fringed red velvet. It’s a sexy space, albeit let down by the seemingly out-of-place monochrome chairs.
The cocktail list is aperitivo heavy, and leans on the classics. Perhaps it’s the vintage elegance of the place, but it feels deliciously on-brand to indulge in a Dirty Gin Martini. So we do. Pleasingly, you’ll even be asked how many olives you’d like (three, obviously).
There's plenty of on-shore influence, with appearances from Archie Rose, Seven Seasons, Four Pillars Gin and Morris Whiskey. You’ll also find Grifter on tap, alongside the Bar Morris lager, which is light, clean, crisp – and brewed less than five kilometres away at Newtown’s Young Henrys.
Delving into the snackish part of the menu, do not let the panfocaccia pass you by. A 50/50 mix of Italian and spelt flour with 80 per cent hydration, it's folded five times over six hours, resulting in a thick, fluffy wedge of bubble-pocked bread with a thin, sharp crust. The accompanying garlic and parmigiano butter is sinfully good, though one small, fluted button is a bit stinge.
Fish crudo is dependent on what is freshest and most abundant at market that day, and on this day, that so happens to be bonito. Being a more intensely flavoured fish, it would have loved the cut of a little extra acidity, and maybe a more exciting companion than slices of raw, yellow squash.
The ‘nduja madeleine is very fun, though. Switching out sugar for parmesan yields a savoury little cake, which is spiked with preserved lemon, stuffed with soft, fatty ribbons of guanciale and dusted with a smoked tomato powder. Bravo.
Jerusalem artichoke risotto is also spot on – creamy, al dente, and the rich nuttiness is sliced cleanly with a tang of apple cider vinegar. This would be a gorgeous vegetarian dish, were it not for the curious addition of smoked eel.
To call the cannelloni “deconstructed” would not be correct, but it’s definitely a new take. Rather than saucy ragu, the tubes are stuffed with tender, shredded pork, which is brined and slow cooked for eight hours, then mixed with bitter greens. A little sugo is spooned over the top, before it's dressed with fresh endive. It’s a lighter reimagining of the cheesy classic, and we dig it.
Head chef Rosy Scatigna (ex-Shell House) clearly knows her way around a dessert. Pistachio and raspberry frangipane is soft, warm and puddingy, topped with a spoonful of sour cream gelato that dribbles lasciviously down its sides. It’s utterly demolished by even the biggest dessert-denier at the table, leaving no trace that it ever even existed.
Eager staff, a fun fit-out and a few oddball features – this is hotel drinking and dining, but definitely not as you know it.
