Glass, Sydney

Glass panders to those who want to see and be seen.

Herald rating: * * * *

I've had Paul before," announced the tofu eater as she swept into the hotel lobby. All right for some. While some of us were working hard, she was having a hot rocks massage with the firm-handed Paul at the ground floor spa before going to dinner.

We were about to enter Glass, Luke Mangan's latest gaff, the much talked-about "French fine dining experience", as the snotty waitress pointed out a little later.

It's located at the Hilton's posh revamped city location, where anyone who's anyone stays - just the week before Jessica Simpson booked out a suite.

Sydney's the kind of place where you can easily find yourself rubbing shoulders with Hollywood. We were in town the same week as Elle and Russ.

But that night Glass was celeb-free. It was packed, mostly with men trying to impress their women.

Then there was us - the de-stressed vegetarian and the frazzled meat-eater. Our arrival wasn't expected, which gave our evening an awkward start.

No matter. The highly professional maitre d' did not miss a beat. We were quickly whisked to a spare table while she sorted it out.

Sadly, our waitress was far less forgiving. We ran into trouble almost instantly when we broke the news that half of our party did not eat meat, fish, chicken or cheese containing cow's belly.

Had we informed the kitchen before our arrival, she barked? Well, yes we had but like our booking, the news did not get through.

With a total lack of good grace, she departed to see what the chef (not Luke this evening) could do for us.

We did not hold out much hope. All the non-meat dishes were for the kind of vegetarian who eats cheese containing animal products.

It was at this point the vego pleaded to be allowed to have the creme brulee for dessert. "I might be quite hungry so I'll need it," she argued.

The sprawling restaurant and bar had an intimate and warm atmosphere, which was surprising for such a voluminous space with walls of floor-to-ceiling glass. A bit too intimate, perhaps - we could easily keep up with the conversation of the couples on either side of us.

The open-plan kitchen follows modern trends, allowing diners to enjoy the cooking process. At one stage it became a surround-sound experience as a chef vented his creative frustrations extremely loudly. And if there was any question that chefs are artists then the enormous artwork suspended above the kitchen left no doubt.

We can only surmise that our status as Special Guests from New Zealand must have been relayed to the waitress, because she returned to our table having undergone a personality transformation. Suddenly it was no trouble to concoct something special for the vegetarian.

For seafood and meat-eaters, there was plenty of choice. I went for the carpaccio of kingfish and was not disappointed. Each delicious mouthful was enhanced by the caper berries, asparagus, and truffle and chive dressing. Light, crisp and fresh, it was a perfect starter.

The vegetarian went without and not because she wanted to. Some would wonder what on earth she thought she was doing at a French restaurant in the first place if she wasn't prepared to eat "proper".

A non-meat tasting plate was created for her main, though the wait-staff whipped one of the dishes out from under her nose when the chef belatedly realised the cheese in the deep-fried courgette flower contained rennet.

The other mini-me dishes - pumpkin tortellini, beetroot and bean salad - hit the spot in an adequate way, though the pea tart got the thumbs down for its excessive salt.

My fillet of beef was okay but it was the dessert menu where Glass really climbed into another stratosphere.

Both were outstanding. For me it was the rhubarb crumble souffle that melted in your mouth. It was, however, the sheer height of the baked meringue that was so impressive. That's where you could see the experience in the kitchen, the years of practice that went into creating such an exquisite dessert.

The clever combination, the souffle with the crumble and the rhubarb was a taste sensation, and the ginger icecream that accompanied it also hit all the right notes, especially the kick of fresh ginger.

The vegetarian had her velvety vanilla creme brulee, served in an innovative 15cm dish that maximises the moreish crispy caramelised topping. We can't think why more chefs don't do this more often.

Glass panders to Sydney's eternal posers who flock to hip eating and drinking establishments to look tanned, taut, rich and superior. While the food did not quite live up to its five-star location, if you want to be part of Sydney's vibrant scene, Glass is the place to be seen - and don't think we didn't let the usual food critic so besotted with fine French food know this. We're still taunting him.

Address: Level 2 of the Hilton, 488 George St, Sydney
Phone: (02) 9265 6068
Open: Dinner 7 days from 6pm; lunch Mon-Fri noon-3pm
Cuisine: French
From the menu: Crab bisque, sauteed prawns, pickled mushrooms, A$89.50; grain-fed fillet of beef, red-onion jam, roast turnips, prosciutto and fig, A$39.50; warm chocolate tarte, vanilla icecream, poached cherries, A$18.50
Vegetarian: It's French. Say no more
Wine: Overwhelming