Back once again, it’s the renegade (estate-grown fruit and vegetable) master

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Millbrook is back, baby.

Not Millbrook the West Australian wine label renowned for its estate-grown shiraz and viognier.

And not Millbrook the tasting room that’s blessed with more stone, more timber and more photo ops of national forest and manmade lakes than your average Perth Hills cellar door.

But Millbrook the restaurant: an airy dining room perched atop said tasting room where guests can soak up all of the above.

Not that Millbrook the restaurant had gone anywhere. It’s just that, the last time Good Food dropped by for a look-see, dishes such as buttery polenta and tomatoes accented with miso and sesame seeds felt (and tasted) very different to the restaurant’s established (farm)house style.

Or at least the Mediterranean, ingredient-first farmhouse style of cooking that chef Guy Jeffreys introduced to Millbrook when he came aboard in 2010.

Crucially, his appointment also coincided with the establishment of a productive kitchen garden to supply Millbrook’s kitchen with the estate veg, fruits and herbs that helped define this cuisine.

That garden is still there, as is Jeffreys, although his title is now “Millbrook ambassador” rather than “chef”.

Since July, the latter has belonged to Stephen Chow: a Southern Chinese-born cook that comes to Millbrook via Balthazar, Wildflower, Nieuw Ruin and other notable kitchens.

Chow doesn’t just bring an impressive resume to his role: he also has the self-awareness to realise his job is to use technique to showcase ingredients and not the other way around.

This is good news.

Good news for tips of frilly broad bean leaves and gauzy white flowers that get cloaked in a sheer batter and fried tempura-style. Teamed with a garlicky aioli, these

crunchy fritters taste like God’s (gluten-free, vegetarian) gift to beer drinkers.

Good news for what I’m calling “fennel regrowth”: tiny menorah-shaped spears that shoot out from older fennels that have started going to seed. You won’t find fennel regrowth at the shops or in cookbooks, but they seem to respond well to being slowly poached in an anise-licked stock made from fennel scraps.

And, finally, Chow’s arrival is good news for eaters that get excited by tasting carefully handled fruit and vegetables as well as ingredients at life stages – young, old, in-between like that fennel regrowth – that were hitherto only accessible to gardeners.

But if Millbrook sounds a little too Close Encounters of the Third Veggie Kind for you, fret not.

Globe artichoke hearts are preserved the traditional way and feature in a poppy arrangement of spring vegetables. The taste of grilled red-veined chard could be aptly described as pure green. Those currently shredding for summer will be delighted to read that a summery salad Nicoise is part of the kitchen’s repertoire.

If it’s been a while since you’ve climbed the stairs to Millbrook’s first-floor restaurant, the kitchen has discovered new ways to celebrate the property’s home-court advantage.

This time last year was when team Millbrook, having jumped through the appropriate hoops, got the green light to cook with estate-laid chicken, duck and goose eggs.

It was also around then when Millbrook started serving its own Berkshire pigs: a breed prized for its exceptional fattiness. If the kitchen has some estate pork at hand – it’s harder than ever, sadly, for small farmers to get their animals processed – you might find it showcased via slices of roasted loin that are milky of flesh and crunchy of crackling like the finest expressions of Hong Kong-style roast pork.

Otherwise, piggy offcuts get slowly simmered with spice before being added to crème fraiche. The result is the warming, rillettes-style glory known as cretons in Montreal.

Served with slow-cooked lentils, these cretons – along with the salad nicoise, broad bean tips and sourdough bread – were part of the kitchen’s choice entree spread.

The kitchen’s choice is act one of the $80 two-course menu (the minimum that adults need to put up to dine here) that concludes with a choice of five mains that might include the aforementioned pork loin or unexpectedly juicy Spanish mackerel whose dense meatiness has been tamed by careful roasting.

While most eaters probably won’t need dessert, I am duty-bound to inform you that the $22 you’ll fork out for the crème caramel might be the best money you’ll spend all year on a dessert.

Luscious and custardy and flecked with visible vanilla seeds, it’s a rousing reminder that strong foundations are important.

But now, the kicker. Following Millbrook’s return to form, it’s likely that most of the dishes – if not all of them – won’t be available when you dine there. Or at least exactly as described here. Maybe a different item from the larder of preserves, pickles and ferments will be called off the bench. Perhaps gardener Aaron Rampling will have finished picking the last bunch of one vegetable and moved onto another.

According to Chen, dishes are in a constant state of flux and often change (and improve) as the working week progresses from day one on Thursday to the popular No-Waste Monday.

For those that believe in the consistency of rigid, Michelin-esque dining, this fluidity may rankle. But for those that love the idea of a kitchen constantly sticking and moving and changing up its combinations, welcome (back) to your new happy place.

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