Yallingup winery restaurant serves up next-level nosh

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We last visited Barnyard many years ago when it was making a big deal about banging out its own pasta. It was OK, but nothing to get exercised about. A couple of years ago, head chef Iain Robertson joined the team and the dishes are now properly next level. The food is consequential.

Barnyard is a winery, brewery, dining room and accommodation business. There’s an old saying that the man who chases two rabbits catches none, but it seems this is not a saw the Barnyard people have heard of, because their beer is good, very good, the wines are OK and the food ... let us explain.

Roast capsicum and caraway seed dip with fresh ricotta was more than it seemed on the menu. The caraway seed offered a flavour not often seen in Australian cooking (Northern Europeans love it) and combined with a good olive oil and the slinkiest, softest batons of slow-roasted capsicum created a dish with knockout flavour. And just when you thought it needed texture? The pepitas crunched away. Lovely.

Charred heirloom carrot with falafel was a dish embodying a love affair with Ferran Adria, the Spanish chef who invented molecular gastronomy and changed the world of cooking. It was carrots in all textures and colours: some standing proud on the plate (great balancing act by the way), others halved and lying supine on a carrot emulsion. The emulsion was made from blitzed “burnt” carrots, which were in fact very burnt, then peeled to take away any bitterness left from the immolation but leave the smoky notes. All served with soft goaty chevre, smears of black garlic and an interesting crunchy element the chef calls falafel. It was a mixture of raw chickpeas and seasonings, finely minced, laid out on a tray and dehydrated until shatteringly hard, then broken into bits and pieces as one would for toffee. Carrots properly cooked, dressings impeccably balanced between vinegary, unctuous and salty, the entire creation seamless in execution and a delight to eat.

Cured Berkshire pork with tiger prawn was a revelation. Every square millimetre of the thick-sliced pork was soft as butter. No hard corners from roasting, no crackling and with perfectly rendered fat. They had been cured overnight in a house curing salt, sous vide for about 17 hours with duck fat, then given a subtle touch-up on the grill for service. It was easily the best pork we’ve eaten – and it wasn’t belly but jowl, the same cut used to make guanciale. The lack of crackling, how most pork belly dishes are served, was not a liability but an asset. A single large prawn lay atop the piggy perfection. The work of a great chef.

Dish of the day was potted Baldivis rabbit. Shreds of soft bunny meat came to the table warm and swimming in butter in, you guessed it, a pot. Rabbit is difficult to cook because it is lean. The butter helped in that regard and boosted flavour. Truly remarkable and somehow, not sickeningly buttery. How, chef, how? The condiments were not an afterthought. A quenelle of well-made gribiche sauce was off to one side. Hardboiled egg yolks and whites, capers, parsley, chervil, mustard and oil are softly blended for a chunky, perky, piquant and stiff sauce (and one of the best dressings ever for asparagus). Want more. On the other side of the plate a parsnip remoulade – celeriac, the usual veg for this, was out of season – was a stunner, although we missed the mild, crunchy celery flavour.

Cappelletti – think a large tortolloni – is a stuffed pasta in a sauce of burnt sage butter. The pasta is filled with house-made seasoned ricotta and garnished with yellow beetroot, toasted sweet and soft in their skins, chard and candied walnuts. So good. So simple. So accomplished.

Oh, and should you get a little over-refreshed, Barnyard has accommodation just a few steps away from the restaurant and in the middle of the vineyard. The looming, black boxes popping up between the grapes are in fact, super chichi, resort-style accommodations where you can rest your tired head and sleep off the booze before driving. Nice. They call them Barn Hives and assure us they are “self-sustainable, eco-luxury pods.” You can also buy house-made charcuterie, pates, bread and condiments and wine from the “Barn Store.”

We’ve been driving past this place for years, not really drawn to it, so this visit was a revelation. Barnyard is a serious restaurant, plating up casual, clever and tasty dishes.

It’s also part of the burgeoning Margaret River food scene. A couple of weeks ago we had the best lunch we’ve had at Leeuwin Estate in years. Leeuwin’s chef Dan Gedge is at the top of his game. Voyager Estate’s new(ish) chef, Travis Crane, has introduced a simpler, slightly more casual roster of recipes while maintaining Voyager’s enviable record for fine dining and wine pairing. His flavours are exceptional.

Frui Momento on Caves Road is a go-to destination for its beautiful setting, wonderful dining room and veranda and the sort-of-but-not-really experimental cooking from chef Seth James, one of the state’s finest.

These are just a few, but all over the Margaret River region there is an explosion of good cooking and fabulous service, from pub and brewery dining to the haute cuisine at the best of the wineries.

Barnyard 1978 is among the brightest of the region’s stars.

We love it. You will too.