Does Merivale magic strike again at Good Luck Restaurant Lounge?

Every hospitality professional I know says the same five words when they walk into the new Good Luck Lounge in the basement of the historic Burns Philp building. “How does he do it?”

How does Justin Hemmes of Merivale put together an A-list team of movers, shakers, designers, builders, imagineers, strategists, lawyers, chefs, back of house, front of house, and out of house? How does he build such high-energy, sizzling, over-the-top environments in which to eat and drink? How does he get it right (almost) every time?

I’ll hazard a guess. He thinks long-term, but acts fast. He scouts talent, and keeps it. He alights on a concept, and commits to making it work. He refines and redefines when necessary, and moves on. He makes sure the restaurant will add value to the property (because, generally speaking, he owns the building). So we shouldn’t be too surprised when Good Luck Restaurant Lounge appears, fresh as a daisy, as if it hasn’t been three years in the making.

Energy levels are high – like, Chin Chin level-high – across the vast rabbit warren of a space, divvied up into banquet rooms, booths, bars and a baronial private dining room. A multitude of red-capped chefs in the long open kitchen move like hyperactive Kikkoman soy sauce bottles, fronted by executive chef Mike Eggert of Totti’s. Music is loud and nostalgic, in line with the black-and-white telly high on the wall, cheesy Asian-inspired art, Venetian blinds, and the giant Lego panda that dominates the luxurious loos.

There are parallels with Totti’s – you can cover the table with what you want, and eat how you please.

Designed by Akin Atelier’s Kelvin Ho, it’s a decadent mix of flaming grills, fish tanks, glittering Murano chandeliers, colourful cocktails and cheery staff headed by an irrepressible Anouk Seidenbinder.

The menu is just as supercharged, run by head chef Prince Jaganathan from Mr. Wong. Start with PPC – three bowls of toasted peanuts, cool, crunchy pickles and cucumber ($16), then hit up the tuna and watermelon ($21). It’s a ruby-red study of cured watermelon interleaved with tuna crudo in soy/vinegar juices; a calming balm amid the mayhem.

Pipis are cooked with respect, bathed in aromatic broth and scattered with finely cut chives ($26). It might pay to get the pull-apart onion bread ($9) for the juices. Another joy: a simple dish of small, fire-roasted kingfish collars ($28), carpeted with chives and green chilli jam.

The noodle section runs with the in-built conceit that the noodles are actually pasta. Clever, but a spaghetti with shishito pepper, whitebait and shiso ($20) lacks clarity. “Belt” noodles are more satisfying ($38), the broad but finely rolled pasta twirled around meaty shredded beef shin.

There are parallels with Totti’s – you can cover the table with what you want, and eat how you please. And while that sounds casual, you can deep-dive into a serious list of wines that go back to a 2018 Comte Georges de Vogue ($3050), curated by head sommelier Jaqueline Doucette from Geranium in Copenhagen.

Live shellfish from the tank run from roughly $120 (mud crab) to $500 (king crab), cooked in “red, green or white” style and served a la Eggert, with waffles in place of mantou buns. This straight-with-a-twist theme is at its best with a masterly soy-poached chicken with shiso broth (half, $34) that has an appealing smokiness, lacquered skin and great juices. Rice is mounded in Chinese bowls ($5).

Desserts are highly evolved, with a killer milk and chocolate soft-serve ($18) alongside musk cheesecake with raspberry ($18). Milo cake ($17) is a meticulous layering of sponge, sable, praline, butter cream and Milo ganache, with a billiard ball of roasted vanilla ice-cream rolled in crunchy Milo that tucks you into bed and kisses your forehead.

It’s a big top, a gastronomic circus of fun and good times, run with immaculate instinct and a team that’s allowed to show a bit of personality, as long as they keep the momentum going. Plus, it’s bloody delicious. Ah, so that’s how he does it.