Book a spot at the six-seat chef’s table for an approachable menu of finely finessed dishes including wagyu sirloin and grilled LP’s pork sausage.
Contemporary$$
The menu says we’re up to “small plates” but somehow there’s a whole pork cotoletta in front of us. The cutlet is butterflied, the bone juts up. Cut through the crust and the meat, a delmonico chop brined in sugar and salt, is juicy and sweet, a kombu burnt butter emulsion slowly seeping through the crenellations in the crumb, then spilling onto the flesh, a chopped gremolata brightening it.
Before and after, we’ll be served lamb leg stuffed with charred leek and wrapped with caul fat, oysters dressed with clarified tomato water, a hulking wagyu striploin accompanied by four sauces. The sheer quantity of animal flesh on this $120 menu is something to either salivate over or recoil from, but judging by the diners who front up to the six-seat chef’s table – the woman two spots from me demolishes an entire pork chop solo – this is a bench with a very healthy appetite.
Behind the marble counter, in front of the Mibrasa wood grill stacked with tomahawk steaks, whole flounders and chooks finished with koji vinaigrette, chef Scott Mills has the read of things. He’s going deep on temperatures and timing, oyster appellations, cracking wise about his knife being able to “cut through the fabric of space and time”.
Who is this guy, anyway? Jump onto the Sinclair’s site and there’s a too-long bio on “Chef Scott”. The condensed version is that our hero started his apprenticeship at age 14 in Hervey Bay in a seafood buffet, worked in resorts, then hit his stride at Bistro Aubergine back home, before moving to The Botanist in Kirribilli where he became head chef.
When Laundy Hotels signed him to run this fine diner atop The Log Cabin – a Penrith institution rebuilt and relaunched in 2022 – odds are they thought he was just another decent cook to add to their stable of hotels.
But Sinclair’s has ambition separate from the club, pub and event spaces hosting birthday parties for hundreds of guests crushing limoncello spritzes and dancing to cover bands. Instead there are views of the Nepean River, vaulted ceilings, comfortable finishes and a roll of butchers’ paper on the wall listing specials. A map on the menu is dotted with suppliers and ingredients: South Windsor duck breast, Grima Bros celeriac, Schofield Orchard citrus.
Most often, over a couple of visits and an extra evening at the chef’s table, I’d expect this kind of venue to be fine tooled for celebrations, heavy on protein, chased by dad reds. The fact that the first stuck with me, and that the second mostly lived up to it (and exceeded it at times) was purely down to Mills’ touch.
From the a la carte menu, corned beef croquettes are loosely bound and surprisingly light. Heads-on Mooloolaba king prawns are grilled to translucent, fresh with citrus salsa and fiery with fermented green-chilli sauce. Sonoma sourdough is sliced thick and served with butter whipped up with wagyu fat, then finished with Katoomba honey.
The ideas are good, but Mills’ palate is so finely tuned even simple dishes stick. A grilled LP’s pork sausage is all smoke and fat and snap, but he tames it with braised pickled fennel. An octopus salad is taken in a subtle dan dan direction with the addition of savoury sesame paste, a pepita chilli crisp and a splash of kombu dashi. What’s more impressive is the texture, the octopus blanched to set the skin, braised the old-fashioned way so it’s tender but still holds its texture, then grilled.
Wagyu sirloin comes out intentionally past medium-rare, allowing the marbling to render that little more. A slug of extra-virgin olive oil brings another kind of fat to the party as well as a bright, ever-so bitter twang. Chef Scott has no business being so finessed, but here we are, and his grill chef Britania Kirana knows how to execute when the room fills and the covers creep above 130.
There are shortfalls, yes – rump cap is unevenly finished, and the clumsy non-signature desserts suggest that Mills really needs to hire a dedicated pastry chef – but after three visits over a couple of years, there are still flavours lingering on the back of my mind.
Mills’ other strength is in how he’s come to understand the local market. The menu is approachable, the steaks are big, Wilberforce sebago potatoes come two ways, roasted in beef fat or triple cooked. He’ll meet you where you’re at too, meaning locals maybe doing their first tasting menu can enjoy the ride as much as diehards can nerd out.
The floor team is led by Sophie Tokareff and dedicated to the basics. You may not get expert wine service, but you’ll be greeted at the front, checked on, have water topped up and be steered through the menu with genuine hospitality. It’s not flashy, but it’s refreshing.
Sinclair’s itself? It is flashy, but it’s also very grounded, connected to place and rippling with value. A recent move to Glenmore Park means chef Scott has committed to western Sydney long-term, too. I’d say he’s onto something.
The low-down
Atmosphere: Bright, open fine diner with views to the Nepean River on warm nights, anchored by a wood-fired grill and marble chef’s table
Go-to dishes: King prawn with spicy green salsa and Schofields citrus ($9 each); LP’s pork sausage with Grima Bros fennel and bacon jam ($21); octopus with crisp Aleppo pepper, Wilberforce sugarloaf and tahini ($27); Tajima wagyu striploin ($120)
Drinks: Cocktails from the main bar are a mixed bag, but wine is mostly Australian and elegant – think Cullen, Coldstream Hills and a 2018 Henschke Hill of Grace for $1400 if you’re feeling it
Cost: About $180 for two, excluding drinks
Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.
Restaurant reviews, news and the hottest openings served to your inbox.
David Matthews is a food writer and editor, and co-editor of The Sydney Morning Herald Good Food Guide 2025.
