Five Minutes With Jason Jones: Entrecote Turns Steak Frites Into Romance
Entrecote’s Jason Jones recalls how a “one dish” pop-up became a Prahran glamour spot—powered by nightly sauce testing, live jazz hum, and the hunt for the perfect steak frites.
A decade ago, Entrecote began as a promise that a single dish could carry a whole night—and Jason Jones has never really backed away from that idea.
When Jason Jones opened Entrecote, he gave it a limited runway.. At first, it was a pop-up concept on Domain Road: a small bet that would either land or fade.. But the response was quicker than expected.. In the early months, Entrecote moved fast—oysters if you wanted something to start, then steak frites for the main—so diners could commit to the simplicity.. Even now, the signature is still there: steak frites with the green sauce, treated not as a novelty, but as a discipline.
From pop-up gamble to Prahran flagship
He applied the same thinking when Entrecote launched in 2015.. Back then, it was walk-ins only, no bookings, and the demand was immediate enough to stress the supply chain.. Jones describes going through enormous quantities of porterhouse in a week, and he remembers early conversations with butchers who simply couldn’t keep up.. It wasn’t just that diners liked the food; it was that the business model—one cut, one direction—was testing what the operation could sustain.
Perfecting one dish, then changing the cut
That’s where the craftsmanship gets detailed.. Jones talks about consistency the way a chef might talk about training: keep the experience stable, even as the ingredients change.. For the first seven years, Entrecote used porterhouse, but once it relocated to Prahran, it started using a middle cut of the rump—rostbif.. He links the change to how the steak hangs and cooks, describing a cut that delivers a consistent tenderness.
The sauce work is the other half of the method, and it’s where the “romance” becomes something more practical.. Jones says they do sauce tastings every week, and he frames it as necessary because everything shifts: cows vary, tarragon changes, and even supply issues can change the saltiness of anchovies.. The result, he argues, is an evolving version of the same idea—careful adjustments rather than constant reinvention.
The “hum” of a restaurant built for escapism
That perspective—hospitality as something beyond food—also explains why the interior is part of the story, not decoration.. Jones calls himself a hospitality romantic, and the restaurant’s look is built around that belief.. The dining room features wall panelling sourced from an old chateau, and the fireplace became the central fact around which the rest of the design took shape.. It’s the kind of choice that can’t be reverse-engineered; it’s a decision rooted in what the space could become.
There are also pieces with personal history.. Jones mentions a chandelier in the bar made from tin, shaped to resemble wheat sheaves, which he acquired at an auction.. He describes bringing items back from Paris in hand luggage and treating the venue like a collection with meaning—an idea that fits neatly with his broader theme of escapism.
That escapism isn’t just aesthetic.. It’s visible in how the restaurant has leaned into the broader resurgence of going out and getting dressed up—white linen, tapered candles, live music, and carefully chosen objects that make a night feel intentional.. For diners, the impact is straightforward: it turns an ordinary meal into an event you can dress for, talk about, and remember.
Why the “one dish” approach still matters
Looking ahead, the challenge for any venue that started with a bold constraint is staying current without losing the core. Entrecote’s answer has been incremental evolution: change the format, keep the center, test the details, and let the atmosphere do its job.
For readers in Melbourne, there’s another layer to the story this month.. Misryoum will highlight an exclusive readers’ lunch at Entrecote on May 1 to celebrate the launch of a new publication.. Tickets have sold out, but the interest around one-off culinary events is already pointing to the same thing Jones has always leaned on: people want a destination meal, not just a plate.