Dunkeld seems an unlikely town to choose for setting up one of the country’s best restaurants but as original manager/sommelier Lok Thornton claims, 'We plan to be not only one of the ten best restaurants in Australia but in the world within a few years.'

No doubt this will put tiny Dunkeld on the map in a fashion it hasn’t enjoyed since it was a major stop on the Cobb and Co. route to Hamilton in the 1850s. Situated at the southern extremity of the Grampians (Gariwerd) National Park with stunning views to Mounts Sturgeon (Wuragarri) and Abrupt (Murdadjoog), Dunkeld’s scenic location certainly helps to add to overall visitor satisfaction.

There are a few trendy boutiques in the town’s main drag, Parker Street, a couple of cafes, an antiquarian bookshop and a lovely park with picnic ground but the focus is on the renovated Royal Mail. It seduces cashed up gourmets faster than a reduced price truffle sale.

Owned by local boy made good Allan Myers Q.C., whose family once owned the former butcher shop across the road, Myers has sunk a small fortune recreating what was once a country pub, albeit historic, into a gastronome’s pilgrimage. Quite simply, no expense has been spared, nor will it be when future renovations are taken into account. Plans are afoot to turn what is a prosaically decorated and somewhat noisy dining room into an oasis more suited to its transformation to an iconic restaurant. For now, diners are seated in a large open space that overlooks the highway or a small landscaped garden. It’s an austere space, not a bad thing when attention should rightly be focused on the food.

Don’t eat here and expect a country hotel chicken Parma or a grazier sized rump steak and chips. The Royal Mail’s budding reputation is credited to Dan Hunter, ex sous-chef at Mugaritz, a Michelin two-starred restaurant outside San Sebastian in Spain that has been claimed one of the ten best in the world. Hunter’s approach to food, honed in the hallowed halls of molecular gastronomy, has been tempered by a no-nonsense attitude to flavour. Leave it alone but for an innocuous tweak appears to be his credo. The restaurant’s kitchen garden supplies much of the menu’s innovation. When produce this good is enhanced with a deft touch of genius, spectacular results await the adventurous diner. The degustation ($125 per person, $200 with accompanying wines) of nine courses, give or take a couple depending on what’s in the garden and the chef’s whim, left me feeling full, not stuffed, replete with healthy food cooked with love and incredible attention to detail. Hunter eschews butter and cream at the Royal Mail, resorting instead to stock reductions and contrasting flavours. Absent were the most gimmicky tricks of molecular gastronomy: sand, earth, air, bubbles and dirt. For example, a dish of hapuka fillet with perfectly peeled asparagus spears was lifted by the merest hint of coconut and soured milk foam. I’ve never enjoyed a piece of fish so much before.

A compendious cellar provides a wine list that defies description if not competition. The index alone runs to five pages. Kept at a constant temperature, the wines are served at peak condition. According to Thornton, 'we have room for over seventy pallets of wine.' Seeing him run to retrieve rare bottles from the storage building across the highway is to see a dedicated professional in action. He adds, puffing to regain his breath, 'I’d like to build a bridge across the road to make this easier.' The surprisingly low markups are a key to the encyclopedic list’s success. 'I’d rather sell the wine than cellar it. We pour wines that go with the food. Dan and I taste everything meticulously, trying to find the best match to the dish.'

Mountain View rooms with outside decks offer views to the Grampians that are inspiring. A small pool is available for guest’s use and walking tracks into the nearby hills and town were described enthusiastically by the reception staff. I thought my room looked more like a redecorated 50s motel room than contemporary luxury accommodation: mould around the bathtub, dirt blown in under the doorway, a small bed with very hard pillows had me thinking of ordinary roadside inns rather than a deluxe country boutique. That’s a minor quibble if the preceding dinner, wine and service are reckoned into the overall equation. When they replace the unpalatable buffet breakfast: processed juices, tea bags and an old fashioned coffee urn with a meal more akin to the previous evening’s standard, I’ll anticipate it with the relish I dedicated to dinner.