What does WA taste like? To Hearth's head chef, the most important flavour is potential

The Age

03-07-2025

From smoked kangaroo and wattleseed tortillas to fun Viennetta remakes, Hearth is a spirited journey into West Australian food and wine.
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What is it about the number three that makes it so auspicious?
Good things come in threes. The third time's a charm. In 1973, Bob Dorough's catchy composition Three Is a Magic Number kick-started American children's television show Schoolhouse Rock. (Almost two decades later, his song was also sampled by hip-hop trio De La Soul.)
After working my way through most of the winter menu at Hearth, I get the sense that three is also something of a magic number for Brian Cole, the restaurant's Sierra Leone-born head chef.
His sourdough is baked with three different barleys including the New Norcia black barley carefully resurrected by late grain grower Roger Duggan; his smoked three-caviar tart features sturgeon, Murray River and Japanese flying fish roe; and the twice-baked three-cheese souffle couldn't have happened without the efforts of local cheesemakers Cambray, La Delizia Latticini and Halls Family Dairy.
This year also marks Cole's third year as the big cheese at the Ritz-Carlton Perth's ground floor diner: a lofty riverside cathedral rich in azure, ochre and stone, plus the understated luxury that the global hotel group is famous for. (At the very least, the room is a welcome contrast to the garish Tron -like glow of Elizabeth Quay after dark.) These paint and building material choices are about more than just following brand guidelines. They're also some of the ways that Hearth celebrates its deep West Australian-ness. (See also: the cellar's pronounced local accent, plus the kitchen's fondness for native West Australian flavours and carefully sourced local produce.)
Once upon a time, the expectation was that the marquee restaurant in a five-star hotel would be a formal, airless chore of a thing. Not so here. Led by restaurant manager Tom Staples, service is cordial, composed and well-drilled. Engaged staff look equally comfortable hosting big tables as they are cossetting solo diners that hotel restaurants inevitably attract.
Just as attentive service might challenge hotel restaurant norms, so too does Hearth's focus on open-fire cooking. Not that this is some macho, full metal smokehouse trading in shock and awe. Rather, the kitchen uses its jarrah-burning grill and smoker fuelled by applewood chips, often in tandem, to help ingredients be their best selves.
So Mottainai lamb shanks are smoked, cut into good chunks and folded into a crumbly wattleseed and masa tortilla crisped over the coals. This deftly composed taco and its two-bite ilk are part of a new 'to-start' offering: snacky things that populate various tasting menus but can now be also ordered individually. (They're also offered next door at Hearth Lounge, the restaurant's seven-day bar and lounge offshoot.)
Kangaroo gets cured, smoked and charred over the fire to yield a blushing tranche of fillet that's a pleasure to eat. (Shout out to the accompanying glossy, lip-sticking jus of roasted kangaroo tail and chicken wing.) I must admit, while Cole's cooking has always been big on technique and layered flavours, some of his earlier dishes felt bogged down by showy flourishes. Now that he's dialled back the frou frou touches and tightened up what's on the plate, his vision of modern (West) Australian cooking feels so much clearer and, most crucially, delicious.
Fennel pollen, bush honey and a native herb salt put an Aussie spin on roast Wagin duck breast. To the side, a cutesy croquette of shredded duck meat made in the image of the Dutch crumbed meatball, bitterballen. Giving Pardoo wagyu oyster blade the low and slow treatment transforms this not especially glamorous cut into a melty paleolithic wonder while its ragu offsider makes a compelling argument for more cooks to slip their customers some (beef) tongue.
Could the pumpkin and potato gratin on the menu's sole vego main have been crisper? Possibly. But judging by the endive braised in orange juice served with the duck, team Hearth's barbecuing range is more than just snags and chops.
Grilled strawberries rendered fudgy by the hearth prove fruit and fire should catch up more often. A dapper mille-feuille comprising frilly plinths of puff pastry, hazelnut ice cream and native rivermint gel tastes like history's poshest mint Viennetta.
Such fun throwbacks – plus the introduction of more flexible menus and large-format share proteins – speak to Hearth's efforts to position itself as a more accessible CBD dining option. Points for proactivity, but Hearth's pricing (still) puts it largely in special occasion territory, especially to those susceptible to menu upsells. Chinese-farmed Black Pearl caviar is sold by weight. Pay a supplement and get black truffle shaved over whatever dish you fancy: a flex that yields good TikTok content but doesn't always flatter this expensive seasonal ingredient.
But like the saying goes, you get what you pay for. And if having someone rain black truffle on your camembert ice cream makes you happy, who am I to say otherwise? You do you. And if doing you involves commemorating a milestone or weaving some special into your life, Hearth needs to be on your radar. Firepower plus people power plus the contact high of worldliness that comes from brushing shoulders with a world-famous hotel dynasty equals a compelling class of (West) Australian dining that feels very modern, very Perth and very essential.