By Marie-Antoinette Issa.
Shimmy, belly dance even, into Bar Bouni - Melbourne’s newest celebration of Lebo-terranean flavours - and you might swear you’ve stumbled into the Middle Eastern version of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. All chaos, colour and food. Just don’t try to debate the origin of wrapped vine leaves!
Laughter ricochets off marbled walls, the smell of harissa chicken and smoky rotisserie cauliflower hits first,and somewhere between the bread being broken (or ripped apart) and the clinking of glasses, stands owner Ben Avramides.
Named after a childhood nickname, Bar Bouni’s approach to cooking is as generous as the proverbial Lebanese hospitality of its founder’s heritage.
A Southbank-style celebration of the warm spirit of the traditional Lebanese family table - the kind where no one leaves hungry and everyone is treated like the guest of honour - Bar Bouni may be a new addition to the Art Precinct, but its origins stretch back for more than a century.
It is a story rooted in a family that emigrated from Lebanon to Australia in 1953, settled in Sydney’s Surry Hills where Ben’s grandfather - whom he affectionately refers to as Jidi - opened a pastry shop roasting nuts and coffee.
This developed into the famed venues Emad’s and Hunna’s which became icons of Lebanese hospitality in the seventies - celebrated for lively dinners, late-night energy and the unmistakable feeling of being welcomed like family.
Today, Bar Bouni continues that heritage - an ode to Lebo-terranean dining, feasting and heartfelt hospitality.
"Growing up, every gathering was around food and we never had one course or a single protein. Once the hibachi was lit, we’d grill for hours and graze. We’d snack on pickles, breads and dips, but not just a loaf, there’d be Leb bread, fresh and fried, Turkish breads torn and shared around the table and the baba ganoush would be a work in progress through lunch as the eggplants were first on the coals, then scraped and turned into baba and served warm.
"Everything was generous but not wasteful. People, not just family, would pop in and immediately be welcomed to the table with an extra chair and treated like the guest of honour. The kitchen and the table were connected because everyone would be doing something to contribute,” Ben recalls.
A third-generation restaurateur, Ben grew up in the shadow of Sydney institutions Emad’s and Hunna’s. "My Dad’s first restaurant was in the family for more than 30 years, trading with the same menu the whole time. He gave it to his sister, who gave it to her daughters. It still trades today, though sadly not in my family. I wanted to create something timeless that’s still relevant and I wanted to engage a new crew of hospitality to get behind the fundamentals that allowed it such longevity,” he says.
At Bar Bouni, the rotisserie reigns supreme. Guided by former Anada Head Chef Jessica Mantilla, humble meat and vegetables are elevated to perfectly layered levels of flavour. Harissa chicken glistens, spice balanced perfectly with warmth and tenderness that practically melts off the bone.
Crackling pork belly snaps with every bite, while rotisserie cauliflower emerges smoky, meaty and dressed in creamy almond tarator, flecked with curry leaves. Every dish is paired with complementary Lebo-terranean sauces: toum, so garlicky it demands smearing, zhoug - herbaceous and bright, and muhammara made from roasted red peppers - flavours that invite diners to eat with their hands, embrace the mess and maybe even fling a bit of za’atar in joyous abandon.
"It’s timeless and ultimately a real elementary way of cooking, but with a little thought and passion you make almost anything really delicious. Cooking is all about time, temperature and ingredients so the attraction to the rotisserie is that there’s nowhere to hide,” Ben explains.
Signature dishes blend memory and invention. The lamb and pine nut lahambagine empanadas honour family tradition but land on the plate with a modern, playful twist.
"Talking through this with my Chef, she asked if she could do an empanada version, folding the lamb fat drippings from the rotisserie through the pastry, which was a knock-out move and landed on the menu immediately,” he says.
Fresh za’atar in the fattoush nods to his father’s back garden - simple touches that evoke nostalgia while elevating humble salads. The Sharik - plates piled high with pickled vegetables, empanadas, house sausage and seasonal salads - encourages grazing, chatter, laughter and elbow-jostling, much like the feasts of his childhood.
The interiors echo the table: velvet seating, jewel tones and old-world glamour create warmth and intimacy. The open bar, curated by Vue de Monde alum Federico Soligno, lets staff pour beers and stir cocktails less than a metre from diners.
Ben describes his philosophy as naturally seasonal and generous. "We shop at markets, so we cook what’s fresh. When we’re cooking, we do it to share, so there’s always a great blend of people at the table, and when everyone wants to contribute, you find an incredible theatre in the meal itself,” he says.
Bar Bouni is modern in menu, yet unapologetically Lebanese in spirit. Roll up your sleeves, grab a wrapped vine leaf (whether you call it dolma or warrak inib) and jump into the feast.
