Now tell me,’ says The Henry Austin’s owner, Max Mason, ‘what was the worst part of your meal.’ Flummoxed by the question and thoroughly impressed by the quality of the food I have no appropriate answer. Mason maintains the air of an affable eccentric Englishman who bestows both excellent crisp service with a touch of well-mannered domination. ‘Good you are,’ he says. ‘Good you are.’ The Henry Austin feels like old Adelaide – a club-like restaurant found at the end of a steep wooden staircase in an old red-brick warehouse, […]

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