The Walrus is a welcoming wine and oyster bar

There's a lot to say about The Walrus, an oyster bar that opened late last year as summer crept into St Kilda, one shy ray of sunshine at a time.

I'm going to start with the toilets, though. Often a restaurant is cozy and elegant, but the facilities are drab and cool. A gastronomic experience that until now was characterized by the flushed cheeks of conviviality dissolves with a trembling interlude where the most private cheeks cool and the only blush is that which springs from a weeping cistern.

Not at The Walrus. Here, ablutions are a delight. There are two very nice bathrooms for all genders, each fitted with a Japanese toilet that has a heated seat and the ability to wash and dry the toilet. The toilets indicate the attention to detail that is woven throughout the place.

St Kilda's dining scene has been lukewarm for a while, but The Walrus is one of a slew of new or reimagined venues giving locals hope.

You see it on the daily-changing menu, inked on a mirror behind the bar: a bold day and hearty wild boar ragout with polenta ($16), a creamy umami day and sea urchin orecchiette ($23) The next day. It's there in the greeting: “Five days ago, where have you been?” one of the owners asks a less-than-usual gentleman as he slides onto a leather stool. Even dogs notice: a Maltese looks expectantly for his water bowl, which arrives just as quickly as hydration for his owners.

There's oyster-themed art on the cozy yellow walls and a record player is set to a Beatles album. It's hard to pick the best spot – I'd say the green chairs in the street lounge for a sunset session, then a comfortable perch on the back mezzanine as the night wears on and the biggest drama is the spoon duel that touch through the sugary shell of a shared crema catalana ($12).

If you really want details, though, let's sit down with some bivalves. The house oysters are from Lake Wapengo on the NSW South Coast. Farmer Shane Buckley is a master of his craft and it doesn't get any better than his Sydney rock oysters, which he ships direct.

They are opened to order with skill and respect and served the classic way, with lemon and a mignonette dressing. They need neither: brilliantly clean and brackish with a long mineral finish, they are exemplary and transfixing.

The selection of oysters ($65 a dozen) is rounded out by two or three other varieties that look good – fun to stroll along the Australian coast.

Chat with the team about wine. Champagne and chablis are classic mollusc matches, but I recommend letting yourself be driven off-road, perhaps to a wet martini, a Spanish cava, or a sharp, pure muscadet.

The Walrus is owned by Amy McGouldrick (ex-Supernormal), a front desk professional, and her partner Marty Webster, a longtime chef (ex-Montalto) who moved into running the place. His business partner is chef Michael Weal, who is more free-spirited.

Webster and McGouldrick met while working at The Alps wine bar in Prahran, which is part of the Diggin' in the Cellars group of six venues. As they closed and opened (and closed and opened) bars during COVID-19, the couple realized they had learned how to start a place of their own.

St Kilda, where they live, lacked a classy cave for excellent snacks and sips. Cue The Walrus, named because it sounds quirky and tusks look cute in a logo, but also because there's a sea mammal obsessed with oysters in Lewis Carroll's poem, The walrus and the carpenter.

The Walrus occupies a storied space in a NeoMetro building that first housed the avant-garde Luxe restaurant in the 90s, then was home to Karen Martini's Mr Wolf pizzeria, which recently closed. The Walrus is located in the same premises that housed the bar branch of Mr. Wolf.

The multi-level concrete shell has been warmed by its wood-and-mirrors renovation in Paris, but they also list towards San Sebastián: there are pintxos, which include gildas ($9 each), the olive set , anchovy and pickled chilli. the best snack ever made with a chopstick.

Morcilla croquettes ($9 each) sit on a gribiche of tangy, balanced sauce, the fine work of apprentice chef Liv Downie.

An intriguing oyster pate ($18) is an enticing entry point for the oyster-averse. Nothing is complicated, nothing is overdone, but everything is smart, appropriate and of flavor and tone.

St Kilda's dining scene has been lukewarm for a while, but The Walrus is one of a slew of new or reimagined venues giving locals hope. I like him very much: he is personal but outward, sincere and sensitive, with a hospitality as sharp as an oyster knife.

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This review was originally published on Have a great weekend magazine