Yellow, Potts Point – Where Fairies Forage and Parisian Chairs Judge You Quietly
If you’ve ever wondered what it would feel like to dine in a whimsical French fairy glen that took a gap year in Paris, got into slow fermentation, and now lives in a charming yellow house in Potts Point, well, Yellow is your answer.
This is enchantment served in six plant-based courses, paired with non-alcoholic beverages so celestial they may or may not have been concocted by forest nymphs with degrees in mixology. Honestly, the drinks alone deserve their own Vogue cover story.
Non alcoholic and alcoholic pairings at Yellow
Before we even get to the food (which we must), let’s discuss the autumn non-alcoholic pairing. Yes, you can drink wine here. But if you skip the fairy elixirs, you’re missing out on some sort of wizardry. One “port” involved date molasses, kumquat jam, cake spice and kombucha. It tasted like something Shakespeare’s witches would brew on their day off, if they’d had access to the herbarium of Jean-Baptiste Lamarck and the wine cellar of Gérard Basset. Another drink, enigmatically named Sticky, was made from verjus, ginger and orange blossom, and tasted like a love letter from your gut to your soul.
And then there was the “Sangiovese” – a liquid daydream of white peony, tomato, and cherry. I don’t know what kind of synaesthetic alchemy was going on in that glass, but I briefly considered leaving my husband for it. And the best bit? They might start bottling them. I am ready to queue like it’s the last night of Harry Styles at Madison Square Garden.
Yellow’s six course degustation vegan menu
Now, onto the food. Yellow offers a set menu, which is French for “stop trying to control things and just trust us,” and honestly, I’m glad I relinquished all power. The experience begins with dishes that arrive looking like modern art and end up tasting like childhood memories and forest adventures had a lovechild.
The Jarrahdale pumpkin spiced granita with cinnamon jelly? It’s like a pumpkin pie got drunk on culture and reinvented itself as a granita. The follow-up dessert, banana, kokuto sugar and chestnut, was like being hugged by a Japanese grandmother I never had.
My savoury highlight at Yellow Restaurant
My savoury highlight? Pine mushroom, purple daikon and macadamia. It was earthy, silky, and unexpectedly profound. Like a poem written on beetroot coloured paper. My husband, who generally thinks “vegetarian” is code for “side dish”, declared his love for the grilled Dutch carrots with smoked chickpea and kumquat. I didn’t even try to compete. The man was in kumquat heaven.
The black barley agnolotti with sunflower seeds and leek broth was so delicate, I nearly wept. And the smoked almond, lavosh and pickled raisin, good grief, I would come back just for that.
The vibe? Oh, it’s very French-rustic-meets-Surry-Hills-sophisticate. Sprigs of lemon trees, chairs with attitude, and a feeling that you’re in on a very delicious secret.
Chef, Sander Nooij is now the co-owner
Yellow’s chef, Sander Nooij (now co-owner, très chic), has taken the place from its French bistro roots and transformed it into one of the most innovative plant-based restaurants in Sydney, perhaps the world. He’s like a vegetable whisperer. Every dish is seasonal, local, and more curated than an Aesop window display. They haven’t repeated a dish in five years. I can’t even manage that level of commitment with outfits.
But it’s not just about what’s on the plate. It’s about what’s not, namely, any tired clichés. No mushroom risottos here, thank you very much. Yellow has created a plant-based experience that doesn’t preach or pretend. It simply seduces.
And in a city where plant-based venues open and close faster than a celebrity wellness brand, Yellow stands tall. It’s virtually an institution. One that’s about to get even better now that Nooij and his business partner Mark Hanover are steering the ship. They plan to expand the fermentation program and keep prices steady, which is basically the culinary version of sainthood.
So go for the drinks that taste like herbal dreams. Stay for the food that will change your opinion of vegetables forever. And leave with a strong desire to write haikus about pumpkin granita.
Five enchanted fairy stars from me
Five enchanted fairy stars from me. Take your carnivorous mates. Take your sceptical uncle. Take your palate on a trip. Just take yourself to Yellow before the kombucha Sangiovese sells out.
(And if anyone from Yellow is reading this, please, bottle that date molasses thing. I’m begging.)
