Andrew McConnell’s new grill has ‘Dyson-like levels of pull’. But what does our critic think?

You could visit Cote Basque five times and feel you’ve eaten at five different restaurants. But whatever direction you choose, be sure to start with a “heaven-sent” anchovy matrimony.

October 30, 2026

15.5/20Critics' Pick

Cote Basque

European$$$

When Cote Basque opened in August, it coincided with an early spring and together they set off a frisson in the city. Moods soared, blood pumped, tables were jauntily placed outside. Proclamations were made about the return of: Melbourne as a city, sunshine, laneway dining, old-school flair and Becco – or at least that restaurant’s spirit, which lives again in the tiered dining room now occupied by Andrew McConnell and Jo McGann’s latest restaurant since Gimlet.

Even as I write this in early October, Saturdays are pretty much booked solid for eight weeks. Being in a room that’s got Dyson-like levels of pull, hoovering up every hardcore diner and semi-interested restaurant-goer, is a rare and thrilling feeling that hits you the moment your shoes touch Cote Basque’s green terrazzo floors. (Becco regulars will remember them well – so will anyone who visited the Pellegrini dining room before that.)

People are here because they miss being on this laneway or in this room. Because they’re dying to see what McConnell’s done with it. Or because they’re curious about a restaurant named for the Basque coastline that stretches from Spain to France, a region with heavyweight culinary status.

To anyone who’s trawled the pintxos bars of San Sebastian, or snagged a hallowed booking at Asador Etxebarri where smoke and fire kiss every course, or been to one of the region’s more avant-garde fine diners – Cote Basque is none of those things. That’s not totally surprising. McConnell doesn’t do “genre” restaurants. Gimlet melds New York, Milan and London. Supernormal looks Japanese, but pulls from many East Asian cuisines.

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You could visit Cote Basque five times and feel you’ve eaten at five different restaurants. Stop by the bar anchored by artwork that channels Spanish modernism for an anchovy matrimony, one pickled and one salt-preserved anchovy supercharged by lemon rind on buttered fingers of bread. It’s a heaven-sent union, simple and uncorrupted, the closest thing in spirit to a San Sebastian pintxo. A tall, refreshing Rickey – gin, cucumber and pretty white vermouth – isn’t a bad place to start exploring the drinks list, a playground for fans of vermouth, sherry and next-gen Italian and Spanish wines.

But order like I did one lunchtime and you could land somewhere in France. Start with crunchy boats of pastry brimming with picked crab, aioli and tarragon. Or maybe socca, a chickpea pancake from southern France, blanketed with the Basque sheep’s milk cheese Ossau-Iraty. Gorgeously roasted duck takes a detour via Madeira, with prunes soaked for several days in the Portuguese fortified wine; with grilled radicchio on the side, it’s a nice nod to a Becco signature.

If you’re seeking less French tarragon and more parsley, you’ll want dishes with more Xs and Ts in their name. Pickled octopus tossed with smoky batons of txistorra (think chorizo) needs only a beer and a hunk of the excellent potato bread to complete the beach holiday illusion.

The fisherman’s soup known as ttoro is both bright and deeply comforting, built on a base of red mullet and gurnard. It’s probably the only soup I’ll rave about at a fine diner. A raft of steaks are grilled simply but deeply over charcoal, Etxebarri-style. They’re popular. On a late Saturday lunch, there was a single one-kilogram rib-eye remaining.

Other dishes sound Spanish on paper but come off as more French. Clams cooked with fino sherry arrive in a buttery lake of pale-yellow, viscous liquid. Where’s the sherry? Its waxy, bitter edge is just a whisper.

Piped with teardrops of whipped cream, the Gateau Basque also veers slightly from tradition, but together with the combination of buttery shortcrust, prune jam and pastry cream, it makes a worthy departure.

Cote Basque has a lot on its moodboard, from southern France to post-war New York and London, glamorous grills to Spanish tavernas. There’s nothing wrong with that. But I suppose I’m puzzled as to why it felt necessary to look further afield than the Basque country when that region has great depths to uncover, especially in Melbourne where examples of the cuisine are few and far between.

If you’re seeking less French tarragon and more parsley, you’ll want dishes with more Xs and Ts in their name.

After three visits, I keep wondering if there’s a conceptual tug of war between the riskier purely Basque restaurant, and a safer package, something more broadly European. To be fair, owners Trader House Group have given Cote Basque the tagline of ‘European grill’. That allows them to honour Becco’s legacy, a noble gesture by McConnell and McGann, while also appealing to more diners – understandable in a tough economy. But this is a group that could afford to take a big swing.

After all the pre-opening press releases that spoke of the Basque region’s influence, maybe diners in the opening weeks weren’t digging the bacalao made with Murray cod or the menu’s original Basque crab tarts, txangurro, which are gratineed.

I’d say we’re watching Cote Basque evolve in real time. While it does, there’s no harm in spending a couple of hours in this very beautiful room, revelling in the buzz, being looked after by capable young staff – and truly delighted if you’re served by a veteran like Ari Vlassopoulos, a national treasure among waiters.

In a year’s time, after the restaurant has reconciled all its influences and considerations, will we get a version of the group’s other European grill over on Russell Street, Gimlet? Or something with its own identity, something Melbourne doesn’t yet have?

The low-down

Atmosphere: “It” energy with classic good looks from the middle of last century

Go-to dishes: Anchovy matrimony ($13 each); crab tart ($15 each); txistorra and octopus ($19); fisherman’s soup ($22); calamari ($42); gateau
Basque ($22)

Drinks: Cleverly on-theme cocktails; European-leaning wines, aperitifs and digestifs with good price range; solid non-alcoholic choices.

Cost: About $220 for two excluding drinks

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.

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