Henry Trumble
Some restaurant write-ups should come with a spoiler alert. Aptos is one of them. You almost don’t want to share this immersive dining experience – but for all the right reasons. Top of the list is the childlike wonder that comes with genuine surprise. So: read with caution.
A former church dating back to 1868 isn’t the obvious setting in which to lick tiny dollops of muntries, Illawarra plum, desert lime, quandong and sunrise lime off a branch, but somehow it works. Since opening the towering wooden doors in May 2026, chef Justin James has welcomed a maximum of 14 diners each sitting to embark on a tactile 16-course expedition progressing through three dining spaces.
In his former Restaurant Botanic days, James exuded intensity. This, however, feels like fine-dining fun, without any need for reverential whispers. Dishes, lit with art gallery precision, arrive on bunya nut plates, vessels encased in kangaroo fur and milkshakes sipped from emu eggs. Each course is accompanied by a playful postcard outlining native Australian ingredients and instructions on how to eat them – a welcome touch in an otherwise overwhelming avalanche of edible intrigue.
There’s not a traditional knife or fork in sight. Instead, grilled, salted and pickled ingredients are sucked from gumnuts; marron with warm lemon myrtle béarnaise, served in shell, is skewered on claws; miso-marinated, slow-cooked abalone is eaten from twigs (pause to savour the tart twang of green ants). For some, wild Adelaide Hills venison that arrives on a deer jaw will feel confrontational. The same goes for course nine – slow-cooked crocodile tongue served on a gleaming white croc skull – but look beyond the visual shock, and the tender meat paired with punchy Geraldton wax chimichurri proves thrilling.
Equally gobsmacking is dining space number two, where an open kitchen offers a view of the Sea and River course taking shape. In a nutshell, it’s Murray cod, three ways, most memorable of which is a rich fish soup sipped through a straw via the cod’s gaping mouth. Sweets arrive upstairs in the most subdued of the intimate dining spaces.
Wine pairings – either international, or focused locally on the Adelaide Hills – gently round out the palate. The more affordable Hills option shines a spotlight on producers including Ngeringa, Hahndorf Hill and Honey Moon Vineyard, whose classic tawny sings alongside paperbark waffle torched with fermented honey. The non-alcoholic Temperance concoctions steal the show, crafted from the ground up with imagination and flavour-packed precision.
At close to $500 for the set menu – not including the beverage pairings – Aptos is best reserved for special occasions or deep pockets. But complaints about price miss the point. This is fine-dining of the thoughtfully eccentric Australian kind – the sort that sparks conversations long after the church doors close.
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