Getting a table at Cafe Sydney’s been hard for 26 years. The view’s not the only reason why

The late ’90s gave us a lot. Activewear as couture. Questionable hair. Bill Clinton’s impeachment. Y2K freakout. Boy bands. Girl bands. Pokemon. Google. And, most importantly for the next few minutes, Cafe Sydney.

Close to 27 years on from its 1999 launch, it’s no easier to secure a reservation. And it’s no wonder, really. Few restaurants can boast uninterrupted views of the Harbour, the Bridge and the Opera House. Fewer still with a massive balcony to enjoy that spectacle in the open air. Got visitors and want to show off? This is the place to do it. They even open for Christmas lunch.

It might be a tourist magnet, but it’s not a tourist trap. Staff welcome everyone equally and give the impression they’re happy to see you, even if you’re a late lunch booking on a 250 cover day. Over a busy dinner, they’re serving up to 300 diners. That’s 3850 new faces a week.

OK, so the spare, semi-industrial interior is of an era. But in 2026, when we’re all looking for a little stability, it feels more like revisiting a good memory.

It’s a place of handshake deals. You could do far worse, if you were in the first blushes of a new business romance, than to order the chilled blue swimmer crab legs packed with sea-sweet juicy flesh and a glass of fizz. Even if you were here simply for pleasure, sitting on that long stretch of balcony enjoying the afternoon sun with a crab leg dipped in mayonnaise is a real treat.

Generations of people eat here. Very sweetly, the young couple on a date at the table next to mine has been sent by one of their mums. I overhear them checking off the things she’d recommended they order, including the duck fat-roasted potatoes (they’re good, by the way – deeply burnished with plenty of salt and a little rosemary). Happy birthdays bounce off the walls on both visits.

It might be a tourist magnet, but it’s not a tourist trap.

Chef Sarahjane Brown (formerly of Le Gavroche, London) is kitchen boss here. She’s got a roll call of great Australian producers dotted through the carte. Abrolhos Island scallops served on the half-shell are beautifully tender, but I’d question the need to coat them in Cafe de Paris sauce and garnish them with pickled nectarine. The combination of that savoury, buttery herbed sauce and the acidic fruit just doesn’t quite hit.

Better luck with the beef tartare, hand-cut and mixed with a generous amount of pickled onions and a lick of chive mayonnaise covered in a frizz of crisp potato strings. Mooloolaba tuna is a win, too. The capers and red capsicum, dressed with a little red wine vinegar, work nicely against the fleshy raw fish.

In an ideal world, the Dutch cream potato gnocchi might be a little less dense and a little more pillowy, but I also understand that they’re turning over huge amounts of people every day, and it can’t always be perfect.

A White Pyrenees lamb cutlet is under-seasoned, and cooked further towards medium than I’d normally like, but the accompanying spiced, shredded lamb shoulder works when dipped in a little sumac yoghurt.

An 800-gram dry-aged black Berkshire pig tomahawk is definitely worth the price of admission ($92, if you’re keen to take the ride), garnished with gooey roasted fig pieces, finished with a retro chilli-honey-soy sauce.

I love the fact that they have a tandoori oven in their kitchen, and three dedicated tandoori chefs, but I wonder why they don’t use it more; when I ask how many items on the restaurant menu are cooked in the tandoor, I’m told, save from the occasional special, it’s just the New Zealand salmon served with masala curry sauce, and the naan (there’s plain, garlic and caramelised onion).

So look, I’d suggest Cafe Sydney is not aimed at hardcore snack enthusiasts. The execution is a little wobbly, and the menu direction could do with some tightening. Better to view it as a place that’s more than the sum of its parts.

Personally, I’d go back just for the dedicated Lounge Bar, where you can soak in all the electricity of the restaurant with a martini and a peek of the view. They even offer Golden Hour drinks specials on Wednesdays and Thursdays, no bookings required. It’s like buying the Chanel lipstick when you can’t spring for the suit.

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