Discover a tucked-away 12-seater jewel that goes beyond its Japanese roots

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The prawn is placed on a sheet of washi. The asymmetrical fold in the paper briefly catches the eye, before it drifts back to the crustacean, its tail jutting out from a lacy batter with crunch like fresh snow. For the first bite, says Kensuke Yada, dip it into the curry salt held in a curve in the brass-coloured plate. You do, and the spices flare. For the second – this time dipped in tendashi – the flavour of the prawn emerges, sweet and natural inside its crisp blond coating.

Delicate isn’t a word typically associated with fried food. Fried food is fast food, right? Fish dunked in oil. Chips dropped in lard. Dredged chicken that bubbles away until the crags and crenellated edges shatter and crackle.

Tempura, though, is different. At its most haute, it’s a cooking style whose intention is to trap the flavour of seasonal ingredients, which steam gently as the batter shields them from the raging heat all around. Temperature is controlled to the degree, timing to the second, with each piece served individually, straight out of the fryer.

Once, seeing this in practice was only possible in specialist restaurants in Tokyo or Osaka or Nagoya. But then in 2021, amid Sydney’s post-COVID omakase explosion, Keita Abe (founder of Chaco Bar) and Kensuke Yada opened Haco.

Folded into a backstreet on the Surry Hills end of the CBD, where the short-lived but excellent Sasaki once stood (Yada was its executive chef, and has inherited much of the handmade tableware) a booking would secure 12 courses, some battered, some crumbed, most designed to demonstrate the craft of tempura in all its deliciousness and versatility.

Five years on, things have changed. More omakase restaurants – even some tempura specialists, such as Tempura Kuon – have come and gone. But Haco? Not only is it still going, it’s evolving, away from pure Japanese technique to something more worldly. See the zucchini flower, stuffed with blue swimmer crab and mozzarella mousse, then fried to subtle crispness. It’s plated in a prosciutto dashi then served just quickly enough so that the flower’s shell doesn’t lose its crunch.

There’s a nod to Spain in the squid-ink and chorizo sauce that underscores a bite or two of tempura octopus, while battered abalone – all satisfying chew and give – comes alongside a candle-warmed pottle of king crab miso sabayon, the whipped yolk sauce studded with crabmeat.

Charcoal has also come to play a larger role, such that the climax of the meal now centres around grilled meats. Duck breast with sansho pepper sauce and mascarpone “snow” followed by deep-red wagyu tenderloin plated with foie gras terrine are skilfully, attentively cooked, and the menu is more balanced with them, even if the fusion can be heavy-handed.

When Yada gets the balance right, though, it’s arresting. Take the chawanmushi. The savoury custard is softly set, with no lingering taste of egg, while the paradise prawn on top has sweet snap. The bisque sauce and finger lime might be a left turn, but they’re applied with such a light touch that it feels like a perfect marriage of old and new.

Part of the pleasure of this style of restaurant is the sense of ceremony. Just finding Haco – there’s no signage other than a logo – feels like uncovering a jewel, and that’s before you step through the noren curtains to be shown to one of 12 seats at the counter, hewn from a single piece of American oak. Dishes are spotlit, and hints of gold bring warmth to industrial greys and concrete. Plates, meanwhile, range from glass, to ceramics, to a crumpled golden cube with just enough dip in the centre to house a kelp-cured scallop.

It’s personal, seasonal, aesthetic. And then there are the drinks, overseen by general manager Naoki Ito. The wine and whisky selections are impressive, sure, but the sake list is maybe the tightest in Sydney outside of Ante’s in Newtown. Ito does classic as well as he does craft, and he’ll pour flights to show off the drink’s scope: here’s one that presents like a Chablis, and another, the Lagoon “Margherita”, brewed with tomato and basil in Niigata that’s a lock with the zucchini flower.

But what if you just want to roll it back and go hard on tempura? See what Yada can do with his specialty blend of fat, based on unroasted Kuki sesame oil, and his bowl of batter, barely mixed so it bursts into a light golden coating as it hits the vat? Come for lunch, and there are three tempura sets, all served with rice, sashimi, miso soup and pickles.

Pieces land one by one. Wagyu that’s blush-pink in the centre, okra that bursts, eggplant that melts, chicken tenderloin that’s sweet and juicy, an onsen egg, still jammy in the centre. At $52 for the classic set, it’s one of the best value experiential lunches around, the craft clarifying just a little more with every crunch.

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