Our guide to the best McLaren Vale restaurants

Coriole is a love letter to the Fleurieu. It’s written in the meal, the wine and the view. Wander past blooming cottage gardens and an ironstone barn, then settle at a table on the lawn. Beneath the generous shade of a 150-year-old mulberry tree, just past the plates and glassware, vineyards ripple toward the sea. The scene mirrors a menu that is deeply local and seasonal, where native karkalla and muntries mix with tender lamb shoulder and velvety Jerusalem artichoke. Much is grown metres from your table or sourced from growers who know this soil like the back of their hands. The wine list also keeps things close to home. Estate-grown shiraz and cabernet reflect Coriole’s roots, while lighter styles suit long lunches in the sun. You might even spot a museum vintage — a reward for taking your time. 

Fiore brings the warmth of Nonna’s table to life. A red-checked cloth rests beneath your elbows, glasses blush with grenache and voices overlap. Here, you don’t order — the table fills for you. The set menu flows effortlessly: garden tomatoes still warm from the sun, olive oil pressed just down the road and herbs snipped moments before they reach your plate. Fiore means “flower” Italian, which is a fitting name for a place where fresh ingredients bloom just outside the door. Beyond the garden gate, the estate at Down the Rabbit Hole unfolds like a storybook. Sun-dappled lawns for picnics, a cosy wine room and double-decker bus for tastings. Here, good company grows as naturally as your surrounds. 

Have you ever tasted tomatoes so fresh, it’s like they’ve just been plucked from the vine? On a quiet patch of McLaren Vale, the team at Pizzateca turn local sun-warmed Roma tomatoes into the same sugo the family’s made for generations. You taste the difference, but it’s not just the produce. This is true Neapolitan pizza, made the traditional way — simple, honest and rooted in family. Out on the lawn, kids wander barefoot between bites while parents linger over another slice. There’s a sense of ease here. Lunch rolls into late afternoon without anyone checking the time — filled with crusts, crumbs and second helpings. It’s the kind of place that welcomes big tables and serves generous, relaxed and unmistakably South Australian hospitality. 

Perched high above the turquoise lip of Port Willunga, Star of Greece has a view that does all the talking. Seagulls wheel lazy loops over Gulf St Vincent — an endless 180-degree sweep of sea and sky. As you head to your table, you’ll pass crisp white linens and polished cutlery — but there’s an easy-going looseness here too. A couple share squid with their fingers, thongs kicked off under the table, while another diner lifts their sunglasses to get a better look at the menu. The dishes read fluently South Australian — fresh and local. You toss up between chargrilled squid that smells of salt and summer, and King George whiting caught just down the coast on Kangaroo Island. Everything tastes like it belongs here. Because it does. Local tip: Book near sunset and ask for a window or balcony seat to see the sun slip into the sea.

Tucked between the vines and the sea in Aldinga, a 190-year-old blacksmith’s shed now houses something unexpected. It’s a story that stretches from Vietnam to the Fleurieu, by way of a little rickshaw — once used to wheel street snacks through the laneways of Asia. That same spirit shaped the beginnings of this place, when locals Mike and Trinh Richards started as a small pop-up. Today, The Little Rickshaw is a cosy 40-seat modern South-East Asian kitchen. What it lacks in size, it makes up for in its dishes and atmosphere. The family-style set menu changes constantly, guided by what’s fresh, local and in season. You might try doenjang glazed squid — caught fresh by a local fisherman — or tom yum mushrooms served with sourdough baked fresh onsite. Local tip: The largest booking they take is a table of 8 and it always pays to book in advance.