For a great love affair that lasted 25 years, its ending is as unexpected as its longevity. Although it outdid Jack Nicholson and Anjelica Huston, disbelief over the split on par. For both, what will always remain is how important it was.
That first taste of attraction on the lips of Sydney happened in 2002, and nobody could have predicted it was a relationship that would last two decades and more. Sydney has always been a fickle mistress, and completely unapologetic. When Quay showed up at the Overseas Passenger Terminal at Circular Quay, it was into an already warmed seat.
Bilson’s had been there since 1988. Opened under the partnership of veteran restauranteur Leon Fink, and legendary chef, writer and artist Tony Bilson OAM, it offered the most stunning harbour views. It was Bilson’s innovation of French gastronomy with a contemporary flair and signature artistry that this place, and where it was placed a spectacular match made in heaven.
It was not the first partnership for these culinary kings. In 1982 they brought a funeral parlour in Taylor Square back from the dead. They kept the undertaker’s surname, and within this multi-storey, art deco building created a high-end, late-night brasserie, restaurant and theatre venue. Kinselas was born. Dishing up smart French food until after midnight in a place that was packed every night had Sydney feel like a sophisticated place. In its second year, a 22-year-old Japanese apprentice who later said, “Without (Bilson), I think I wasn’t a cook” went on to run his own multi-award winning restaurant for 35 years, and become a global food brand.
Thank you, Tetsuya Wakuda.
Tony Bilson with his then wife Gay, had already run his world-class, architecturally designed, accessible-by-boat-only Berowra Waters Inn on the Hawkesbury River for seven years from the mid-70s. It was a daring dream and they made it happen. “I always loved the idea of taking people out of their normal space and going through a psychological gap and getting a reward that creates memories,” Bilson said.
Indeed, he created countless memories for untold people he had never met across the 55 years he fathered Australian modern cuisine, and nurtured our palates.
You understand the soft spot Sydney has for all that was Bilson.
Quay was his echo.
Although opened in 1999 with remarkably designed interior flair, it was in 2001under the deft hand of executive chef Peter Gilmore that its influence on modern Australian menus and quality produce equalled the unmatched location. Still under the Fink Group, Quay marked a new chapter for Sydney’s harbourfront and lost none of its appeal.
Gilmore kept his passion for the new—in techniques, ingredients, heirloom varieties, and flavour fusions—unyielding for 25 years. Hospitality talent, Australian grape growers, wine makers, distillers and boutique breweries all benefitted from the mastery that is Peter Gilmore.
Quay emerged as such a gourmet global leader it maintained a three hat ranking from the Good Food Guide since 2002: unheard of, unchallenged and unsurpassed by any other restaurant. Sydney would not have Porcine in Paddington, Yellow in Potts Point, Black Star Pastry or Hearthe were it not for the career-defining, life-long lessons forged in the kitchen of Quay. More than 700 chefs have worked in that brutal environment that Anthony Bourdain described as “…the last refuge of the misfit. It’s a place for people with bad pasts to find new family.”
Let’s hope a new family is found. For every one who had the inspiration, the training and the dedication to serve all the saltiness, sweetness, and bitterness of Sydney on a plate and sear it into a memory delicious.
Quay closed shut its menu and its doors on Valentine’s Day. Not because it had gone broke (as many have); not because Peter Gilmore had had enough; not because its name came to mean more than the experience of it. The staff weren’t underpaid, overworked and having to side hustle Uber-something to survive. Nobody was over-ordering from suppliers and selling it out the back door.
On February 14 to capacity seating, Quay served harmonious layers of texture and flavours for the very last time. Gilmore’s famous snow egg made its return: a enduring reminder of what makes granita, ice cream and toffee meringue something of a kiss from Hollywood.
Quay is no more because Sydney is a fickle bitch. Fine-dining has made way for simpler food. Hardly surprising, given the rising cost of everything but wages, and there’s no time to relax with a menu when you can’t find somewhere to live.
There will never, ever be another Quay. There should be outrage at the realisation of that. The loss of skill and soul; the effect on specialty food producers, the dispensing of beauty, artistry and humanness. An extended family broken.
Instead, we’re to be overawed by technological marvel of Central Station’s data centre, and all the virtual life it will provide.
The future of Sydney is ugly and tasteless. It’s lost its heart, and nobody has the key.
