Europeans eating seafood in New Zealand occasionally have to take a bit of a step back and realign their expectations. Sometimes things are just... different. Not better, not worse, but different all the same, and you sometimes have to relearn a food, if you see what I mean.
Not Marmite. You just have to find English Marmite - there's no learning otherwise.
What I'm talking about essentially are mussels. Going for a kilo of moules frites, whether in London or Paris, you expect dozens of deliciously sweet little beasties, tender and flavoursome, and crisp, salted, pointy frites. Not French Fries (whatever they actually are), and not fat chips. Perhaps a bit of baguette on the side. Beer, probably.
Here, moules are an entirely other affair. Roughly the size of an old man's ear, they are, and about ten to a kilo. Meaty yet soft, and whilst just as seasidey in their flavour, there's something else going on there too, something richer, less sweet than their northern hemisphere cousins. Something tells me though that, for all their robustness, like any shellfish they're just as vulnerable to being overcooked by an inattentive chef.
Fortunately this is unlikely to occur at Squid Row. The only dodgy thing you're likely to encounter here is the name (punning restaurant names make you sound like a crap hairdresser). Squid Row is one part 50s surf style and one part Belgian beer hall, the combination working a whole lot better than it sounds. Go for the fishy options and you'll not be disappointed - our starter of squid crusted and deep-fried was one of the best versions we've had, reminding us quite why this ubiquitous dish became so popular in the first place. Moules themselves were phenomenal, the white wine (not quite mariniere but close) sauce rich and rocking with flavour, and the perfect consistency.
And the rest? Good (not great) chips - too fat and not frites by a long shot, unremarkable bread but good service even on a lively Saturday evening whilst the ABs were giving Italy less of a pasting than they probably deserved. It's got to be said, the bar for seafood in Auckland is pretty high, but Squid Row was right up there. Good moules require a good formula, a tried and tested combination of a great sauce; a careful eye on the cooking time; a noisy, busy, shouty restaurant; good frites and some decent stuff to drink. Squid Row has enough of these in place to merit a visit.
Squid Row
224 Symonds Street
Auckland
New Zealand
+64 (0) 9 379 9344
http://www.squidrow.co.nz
Monday, 29 June 2009
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Byzantium Café, Ponsonby
A little while ago, I made a decision in relation to this blog. I'd written about a few cafés and their brunch offerings, and to be honest I was running out of things to say about eggs benedict, french toast, pancakes and coffee, great though all these things are. So I've decided that rather than turn out an identikit review of every identikit café I visit of a Saturday or Sunday, I'm only going to write something in response to something unusually good or bad.
And so we come to Byzantium, a fairly unpreposessing place towards the K Road end of Ponsonby Road, more or less, nestled in among the antique shops. First impressions count for a lot with me, and within about 15 seconds I'd decided that no review would be forthcoming as I asked for eggs benny and a flat white, an order as mediocre and predictable as I was sure the food would be.
And by and large, it was. With the exception of a truly incredible and unusual hollandaise sauce, which was not only fresh as a daisy, but bright, lively, citrussy and zingy, lifting the whole dish and basically giving me something to write about. Coffee - fine. Bacon - fine. Eggs - fine. Muffin - present. Sauce - currently holds the No.2 position, second only to the tremendous Landreth & Co a little way up the road.
Fair brightened my whole day, that did.
Byzantium Café
80 Ponsonby Road
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 376 3695
And so we come to Byzantium, a fairly unpreposessing place towards the K Road end of Ponsonby Road, more or less, nestled in among the antique shops. First impressions count for a lot with me, and within about 15 seconds I'd decided that no review would be forthcoming as I asked for eggs benny and a flat white, an order as mediocre and predictable as I was sure the food would be.
And by and large, it was. With the exception of a truly incredible and unusual hollandaise sauce, which was not only fresh as a daisy, but bright, lively, citrussy and zingy, lifting the whole dish and basically giving me something to write about. Coffee - fine. Bacon - fine. Eggs - fine. Muffin - present. Sauce - currently holds the No.2 position, second only to the tremendous Landreth & Co a little way up the road.
Fair brightened my whole day, that did.
Byzantium Café
80 Ponsonby Road
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 376 3695
Ivy Restaurant & Bar, Kingsland
Ivy (and I'm resisting the temptation to call it 'The Ivy') has been tempting me for months. Adding an extra dimension of well-heeled class to Kingsland's laid-back charm, it sits on its corner radiating confident cool, looking for all the world like a dispensary for the best martinis for miles around.
Decor-wise, it's a nicely-executed take on modern lifestyle mag chic by numbers, with black playing a predominant part alongside quirky Victoriana prints and the like, and very nicely it works too. That's the thing about places like this - there's undoubtedly a stereotype being adhered to here and there's no surprises, and that it's a commonly done look is because it fundamentally works.
On the food front, the menu is functional, with a pared-down selection that speaks of a few things done well rather than every base covered poorly. That was the hope, at least. A starting platter of cold meats was promising, with sliced pork belly, chorizo, smoked chicken and the like flavoursome, tender and satisfying. At least, they would have been had they not been served straight from the fridge and thus turned out leaden and mute.
The main courses in many ways reflected the interior design - on the pleasant side of mediocre. My roast chicken was a tad overdone, as usual, with the accompanying bits nicely treated and whilst the flavours didn't exactly sing, they were definitely there. The fish and chips ordered by the missus were pronounced 'fine'.
All of this 'ok-ness' was delivered to our table with a weird mix of teutonic frostiness and wild over-enthusiasm, a combination that was as odd as it sounds. If you fancy a bit of comedy next time you dine here, ask to have the wine list left on your table after you've ordered. You may have to prise it back out of their hands.
As for that wine list, well, it shows what Ivy really does well. This, after all, is a Bar. A Bar That Sells Drinks, and occasionally food, and that needs to be understood up front. As well chosen a list as I've seen in Auckland bars features a nice spread across provenance, grape variety and price, and the ranks of spirits behind the bar promise a great cocktail evening, should you be in the mood. Round the back, there's a separate room with a slightly more bordello-esque feel (marred only slightly by the constant stream of punters wandering through to the toilets, but perhaps that's part of the intentional seediness, I'm too old to know for sure), which gives a slightly more intimate feel than the front room.
Regular readers will know that I've got a bit of a thing against places that pretend to be what they're not, or try to be too many things at once. For this reason I quite like Ivy: it's a great-looking bar, with some great stuff to drink, and if you feel a little peckish it'll do some above-average food at a decent price, and it doesn't ever try to be any more than that.
Ivy Restaurant & Bar
463 New North Road,
Kingsland
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 815 1535
Decor-wise, it's a nicely-executed take on modern lifestyle mag chic by numbers, with black playing a predominant part alongside quirky Victoriana prints and the like, and very nicely it works too. That's the thing about places like this - there's undoubtedly a stereotype being adhered to here and there's no surprises, and that it's a commonly done look is because it fundamentally works.
On the food front, the menu is functional, with a pared-down selection that speaks of a few things done well rather than every base covered poorly. That was the hope, at least. A starting platter of cold meats was promising, with sliced pork belly, chorizo, smoked chicken and the like flavoursome, tender and satisfying. At least, they would have been had they not been served straight from the fridge and thus turned out leaden and mute.
The main courses in many ways reflected the interior design - on the pleasant side of mediocre. My roast chicken was a tad overdone, as usual, with the accompanying bits nicely treated and whilst the flavours didn't exactly sing, they were definitely there. The fish and chips ordered by the missus were pronounced 'fine'.
All of this 'ok-ness' was delivered to our table with a weird mix of teutonic frostiness and wild over-enthusiasm, a combination that was as odd as it sounds. If you fancy a bit of comedy next time you dine here, ask to have the wine list left on your table after you've ordered. You may have to prise it back out of their hands.
As for that wine list, well, it shows what Ivy really does well. This, after all, is a Bar. A Bar That Sells Drinks, and occasionally food, and that needs to be understood up front. As well chosen a list as I've seen in Auckland bars features a nice spread across provenance, grape variety and price, and the ranks of spirits behind the bar promise a great cocktail evening, should you be in the mood. Round the back, there's a separate room with a slightly more bordello-esque feel (marred only slightly by the constant stream of punters wandering through to the toilets, but perhaps that's part of the intentional seediness, I'm too old to know for sure), which gives a slightly more intimate feel than the front room.
Regular readers will know that I've got a bit of a thing against places that pretend to be what they're not, or try to be too many things at once. For this reason I quite like Ivy: it's a great-looking bar, with some great stuff to drink, and if you feel a little peckish it'll do some above-average food at a decent price, and it doesn't ever try to be any more than that.
Ivy Restaurant & Bar
463 New North Road,
Kingsland
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 815 1535
Saturday, 25 April 2009
Soul Bar & Bistro, Viaduct
There's a rule of thumb I've often heard mentioned by 'foodie' European holidaymakers. There are those who will tell you that the best, and best value food to be found in beachside towns is invariably in the restaurants with the worst views. The one tucked away down a sidestreet, not the one with the luscious harbour or beach views and sundrenched decks. As an entirely food-focused rule, it's fairly astute, as expensive ground rents and building costs tend to move a restaurateur's focus rapidly from quality to high-margin quantity. However, speaking for myself, I'd rather eat good food in a clean place with a great view, than great food whilst watching cockroaches scuttle across cracked lino in a darkened corner somewhere.
Eating in Auckland's Viaduct Harbour, though, stirs some of this old prejudice in me still. It's an expensive, high profile place to set up. It's the dead centre of Auckland's tourism industry. It's a mecca for stag and hen parties, after-work drinks and overseas conference attendees. Traditional wisdom would suggest that it's the last place one would go for a great meal out with a few friends.
Traditional wisdom also once suggested the world was flat.
As we've seen, the Bar / Restaurant combo is a tricky one to get right. Lively, enthusiastic drinking sits uneasily with white-tablecloth dining. Here though, as you enter, the bar curves to the right, channelling drinkers into the 'drinking' area, whilst the restaurant inside is raised up a few feet, with a heavy curtain that can be drawn across. The implied separation of the two works well. I think the main positive is for the diners; as the night draws on, the place fills up with the sort of comedy Euro-sleaze that's always great entertainment. Watching portly, overtanned balding types paw bored teenagers with their chubby, signet ringed fingers is always good value.
Fortunately though, the main attraction is the food itself, which on the face of it is the sort of pan-European-with-a-Pacific-twist cuisine that I'm learning forms the basis of most Kiwi diets. In the wrong hands this can be disastrous - blend cuisines at your peril - but here it's handled very deftly indeed, matching flavours for their compatibility and wit, rather than purely because they turned up on the same shelf in the fridge and hey, no-one's thought of it before.
My starter of stuffed zucchini flowers was purely brilliant. Simple, expertly cooked, surrounded with a piquillo pepper salsa and dots of the same venerable, sticky balsamic that accompanied the bread. It's an Italian dish that doesn't bear mucking around with, but the gentle Spanish touch from the salsa worked terrifically well.
Next followed the only real downside of the evening - an interminable wait for service. As we were a decently-sized table, it didn't matter all that much as we could keep each other entertained, but I did notice a few couples sitting with empty plates staring gloomily at the waiting staff for far too long. Interestingly, I notice that most reviews written online which complain about slow service are written by one half of a couple. When the conversation dries up, a few extra minutes spent waiting for the next course can seem like half an hour.
Still, as one of our party said shortly after the next course arrived 'That was so worth waiting for'. Despite the excellent seafood options, I'd gone for the roast chicken with Puy lentils and a smoked chipotle, lime and coriander dressing, and yep, this was up there with the best dishes I've had in New Zealand to date. Roast chicken seems simple, but it's deceptively hard to get right (which, egregiously, was sort of why I'd chosen it). Inexperienced chefs often overcook it for expediency, but this corn-fed supreme was moist, tender, chock-full of flavour and crispy of skin. Other dishes seemed similarly excellent, but to be honest I was far too focused on mine to care. Great chicken and perfectly-cooked, smokily flavoured Puy lentils tend to distract me from pretty much anything.
Dessert was going to be passed over, until the missus and I spotted the chocolate marquise with salted hazelnuts, caramel and buttermilk icecream, which was every bit as good as it sounds. Although we didn't take advantage of it (it being nearly midnight when we left - for a table booked for 1930 this is testament to the glacial service pace), an excellent-looking cheese selection was offered alongside the dessert menu, which personally I loved, being a real fan of the French-style serving of a cheese plate after a meal. I can't get this fad for serving it as a pre-dinner thing at all.
Add to this a serviceable wine list, and I have to say I was impressed. The bar element didn't bother us at all, serving mainly as a welcome bit of pre-Bad Michael Jackson and some hilarious lessons in how not to age gracefully. If anything it livened the place up a bit, resulting in an atmosphere just as uplifting, well-judged and generous as the food on our plates. As for the service, it didn't really bother us at all - we spent a leisurely evening chatting, eating and drinking and, with no immediate plans to do anything else, were perfectly happy doing just that.
Soul Bar & Bistro
Viaduct Harbour
Auckland City
+ 64 (09) 356 7249
http://www.soulbar.co.nz
Eating in Auckland's Viaduct Harbour, though, stirs some of this old prejudice in me still. It's an expensive, high profile place to set up. It's the dead centre of Auckland's tourism industry. It's a mecca for stag and hen parties, after-work drinks and overseas conference attendees. Traditional wisdom would suggest that it's the last place one would go for a great meal out with a few friends.
Traditional wisdom also once suggested the world was flat.
As we've seen, the Bar / Restaurant combo is a tricky one to get right. Lively, enthusiastic drinking sits uneasily with white-tablecloth dining. Here though, as you enter, the bar curves to the right, channelling drinkers into the 'drinking' area, whilst the restaurant inside is raised up a few feet, with a heavy curtain that can be drawn across. The implied separation of the two works well. I think the main positive is for the diners; as the night draws on, the place fills up with the sort of comedy Euro-sleaze that's always great entertainment. Watching portly, overtanned balding types paw bored teenagers with their chubby, signet ringed fingers is always good value.
Fortunately though, the main attraction is the food itself, which on the face of it is the sort of pan-European-with-a-Pacific-twist cuisine that I'm learning forms the basis of most Kiwi diets. In the wrong hands this can be disastrous - blend cuisines at your peril - but here it's handled very deftly indeed, matching flavours for their compatibility and wit, rather than purely because they turned up on the same shelf in the fridge and hey, no-one's thought of it before.
My starter of stuffed zucchini flowers was purely brilliant. Simple, expertly cooked, surrounded with a piquillo pepper salsa and dots of the same venerable, sticky balsamic that accompanied the bread. It's an Italian dish that doesn't bear mucking around with, but the gentle Spanish touch from the salsa worked terrifically well.
Next followed the only real downside of the evening - an interminable wait for service. As we were a decently-sized table, it didn't matter all that much as we could keep each other entertained, but I did notice a few couples sitting with empty plates staring gloomily at the waiting staff for far too long. Interestingly, I notice that most reviews written online which complain about slow service are written by one half of a couple. When the conversation dries up, a few extra minutes spent waiting for the next course can seem like half an hour.
Still, as one of our party said shortly after the next course arrived 'That was so worth waiting for'. Despite the excellent seafood options, I'd gone for the roast chicken with Puy lentils and a smoked chipotle, lime and coriander dressing, and yep, this was up there with the best dishes I've had in New Zealand to date. Roast chicken seems simple, but it's deceptively hard to get right (which, egregiously, was sort of why I'd chosen it). Inexperienced chefs often overcook it for expediency, but this corn-fed supreme was moist, tender, chock-full of flavour and crispy of skin. Other dishes seemed similarly excellent, but to be honest I was far too focused on mine to care. Great chicken and perfectly-cooked, smokily flavoured Puy lentils tend to distract me from pretty much anything.
Dessert was going to be passed over, until the missus and I spotted the chocolate marquise with salted hazelnuts, caramel and buttermilk icecream, which was every bit as good as it sounds. Although we didn't take advantage of it (it being nearly midnight when we left - for a table booked for 1930 this is testament to the glacial service pace), an excellent-looking cheese selection was offered alongside the dessert menu, which personally I loved, being a real fan of the French-style serving of a cheese plate after a meal. I can't get this fad for serving it as a pre-dinner thing at all.
Add to this a serviceable wine list, and I have to say I was impressed. The bar element didn't bother us at all, serving mainly as a welcome bit of pre-Bad Michael Jackson and some hilarious lessons in how not to age gracefully. If anything it livened the place up a bit, resulting in an atmosphere just as uplifting, well-judged and generous as the food on our plates. As for the service, it didn't really bother us at all - we spent a leisurely evening chatting, eating and drinking and, with no immediate plans to do anything else, were perfectly happy doing just that.
Soul Bar & Bistro
Viaduct Harbour
Auckland City
+ 64 (09) 356 7249
http://www.soulbar.co.nz
Friday, 17 April 2009
Murder Burger, Ponsonby
Ok, disclosure time first. I've been a fan of Murder Burger for some time already. Despite never having eaten there, I love the branding, the messaging, the decor and the overall tone of the place. It takes a certain kind of warped logic to call a burger joint 'Murder Burger', to feature a kitten in the logo and to dress the staff in t-shirts saying 'Meat Is Murder'. I love it.
So this afternoon it didn't take a great deal of arm-twisting for the missus to convince me to take the trip to Ponsonby to try it out at last. I think I was expectantly sitting in the car before she got to the end of the sentence. Weirdly, as we parked, I noticed myself actually getting nervous. Would it actually be any good? Had I been shallow enough to be won over purely by the power of marketing (not for the first time, either)? Was I about to be humungously disappointed?
No. Not at all. Not one tiny little bit. Not even a smidgen.
I've said this before on this blog, but a burger shouldn't be a hard thing to get right, but from a few previous experiences like the one a bit down the road from here, it would seem so. Apparently it's phenomenally difficult for some people. Not so for the Murder Burger team, whose patties are top-quality beef, gristle-free and packed with unadulterated MEAT flavour.
This is a burger joint that's not afraid of the meat - take the only salad option for example. The 'Meat Salad' is described as follows: A whole punnet just filled with lamb french cutlets, free range bacon and chicken nibbles, covered with the sauce of your choosing and no vegetables at all. Don't tell me there's any part of you that doesn't want this." Brilliant.
Back to the burger. They're all served in a focaccia bun, which is initially alarming as focaccia is one of the many breads that is entirely unsuited to burger-holding, but fortunately Murder Burger's definition of 'focaccia' is basically a slightly herbed burger bun, so it passes. My Gourmet* Beef, Cheese & Mustard burger was just that, that excellent patty, plenty of wholegrain mustard and a melting bit of fake cheese (always fake cheese - real cheese has no place in a burger, unless it's blue), and a tolerable amount of simple salad.
See? Simple. High quality. Well-cooked. What more you might need I do not know. Oh, and rumours of sky-high prices here abound and I can confirm they're wholly untrue. Mine was $10.50 and worth every cent, the most expensive is $14.90 for a massive-sounding beast of a burger.
So there we are. My faith in New Zealand's burger ability restored. Kiwi carnivores, you have a duty to visit this place, and frequently. Commitment to quality, and a sense of humour like this must both be encouraged.
Murder Burger
128a Ponsonby Road
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 550 5500
http://www.murderburger.co.nz
* Yes, as I've said this word is horribly overused and I hate it. Here they also have a range of burgers called 'Super Gourmet', and I'm not sure whether this is a massive pisstake of 'Gourmet' culture or not. It should be.
So this afternoon it didn't take a great deal of arm-twisting for the missus to convince me to take the trip to Ponsonby to try it out at last. I think I was expectantly sitting in the car before she got to the end of the sentence. Weirdly, as we parked, I noticed myself actually getting nervous. Would it actually be any good? Had I been shallow enough to be won over purely by the power of marketing (not for the first time, either)? Was I about to be humungously disappointed?
No. Not at all. Not one tiny little bit. Not even a smidgen.
I've said this before on this blog, but a burger shouldn't be a hard thing to get right, but from a few previous experiences like the one a bit down the road from here, it would seem so. Apparently it's phenomenally difficult for some people. Not so for the Murder Burger team, whose patties are top-quality beef, gristle-free and packed with unadulterated MEAT flavour.
This is a burger joint that's not afraid of the meat - take the only salad option for example. The 'Meat Salad' is described as follows: A whole punnet just filled with lamb french cutlets, free range bacon and chicken nibbles, covered with the sauce of your choosing and no vegetables at all. Don't tell me there's any part of you that doesn't want this." Brilliant.
Back to the burger. They're all served in a focaccia bun, which is initially alarming as focaccia is one of the many breads that is entirely unsuited to burger-holding, but fortunately Murder Burger's definition of 'focaccia' is basically a slightly herbed burger bun, so it passes. My Gourmet* Beef, Cheese & Mustard burger was just that, that excellent patty, plenty of wholegrain mustard and a melting bit of fake cheese (always fake cheese - real cheese has no place in a burger, unless it's blue), and a tolerable amount of simple salad.
See? Simple. High quality. Well-cooked. What more you might need I do not know. Oh, and rumours of sky-high prices here abound and I can confirm they're wholly untrue. Mine was $10.50 and worth every cent, the most expensive is $14.90 for a massive-sounding beast of a burger.
So there we are. My faith in New Zealand's burger ability restored. Kiwi carnivores, you have a duty to visit this place, and frequently. Commitment to quality, and a sense of humour like this must both be encouraged.
Murder Burger
128a Ponsonby Road
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 550 5500
http://www.murderburger.co.nz
* Yes, as I've said this word is horribly overused and I hate it. Here they also have a range of burgers called 'Super Gourmet', and I'm not sure whether this is a massive pisstake of 'Gourmet' culture or not. It should be.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Jones The Grocer, Newmarket
In a country where the dairy industry makes up such a huge percentage of the GDP, it's a surprise to see artisanal cheese production only just beginning to take hold. Sure, in every Foodtown, New World and Pak 'n' Save, you can find fridges full of mass-produced facsimiles of Colby, cheddar, brie and camembert (these last two indistiguishable from each other), but what I've been looking for since I've been here are two things:
1. Actual cheese. If I'm in the mood for Brie, I want it to come from France, to be actual Brie, not 'brie-style' or 'brie-flavoured' cheese. I will pay what it costs and eat it rarely if I must.
2. New Zealand cheese. Surely there must be a cheesemakers here who can make an indigenous cheese, something that speaks of where it's from? Why try to emulate something that's done perfectly well (and let's be honest, better) somewhere else, when you could be producing something brilliant and unique that can't be bettered elsewhere?
These two I have found at Jones. Their cheese room reminds me of Neal's Yard in Borough Market, with temperature and humidity kept constantly perfect, as is the condition of their product. Their passion for what they do is unrivalled, to the point that you actually have to stop them talking when you want to pay up and leave.
And so on one hand, they have genuine Stilton (still pasteurised, sadly, but that's EC legislation for you), wheels of perfectly ripe brie, excellent chevre and plenty of the more arcane European cheeses. On the other, they have a growing collection of local produce, showcasing just how good New Zealand cheese can be when the focus is on 'let's make something that's the best we can make', rather than 'what's the cheapest way we can make something and stick a familiar name on the packet?'.
In addition to all this, the deli and grocery stores stock a superb selection, the cured meats in particular being worth a look. Yesterday I tried some of the best pancetta I've had yet, and some excellent Iberico sausage, both actually surprisingly reasonably priced for what they were.
Definitely worth a visit if you're at all interested in what you eat. Proud Kiwis would do well to support the elements of their dairy industry who are keeping their product 100% New Zealand and producing something excellent, rather than those who're imitating something else, badly.
Jones The Grocer
143 Carlton Gore Road
Newmarket
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 522 9161
http://www.jonesthegrocer.com
1. Actual cheese. If I'm in the mood for Brie, I want it to come from France, to be actual Brie, not 'brie-style' or 'brie-flavoured' cheese. I will pay what it costs and eat it rarely if I must.
2. New Zealand cheese. Surely there must be a cheesemakers here who can make an indigenous cheese, something that speaks of where it's from? Why try to emulate something that's done perfectly well (and let's be honest, better) somewhere else, when you could be producing something brilliant and unique that can't be bettered elsewhere?
These two I have found at Jones. Their cheese room reminds me of Neal's Yard in Borough Market, with temperature and humidity kept constantly perfect, as is the condition of their product. Their passion for what they do is unrivalled, to the point that you actually have to stop them talking when you want to pay up and leave.
And so on one hand, they have genuine Stilton (still pasteurised, sadly, but that's EC legislation for you), wheels of perfectly ripe brie, excellent chevre and plenty of the more arcane European cheeses. On the other, they have a growing collection of local produce, showcasing just how good New Zealand cheese can be when the focus is on 'let's make something that's the best we can make', rather than 'what's the cheapest way we can make something and stick a familiar name on the packet?'.
In addition to all this, the deli and grocery stores stock a superb selection, the cured meats in particular being worth a look. Yesterday I tried some of the best pancetta I've had yet, and some excellent Iberico sausage, both actually surprisingly reasonably priced for what they were.
Definitely worth a visit if you're at all interested in what you eat. Proud Kiwis would do well to support the elements of their dairy industry who are keeping their product 100% New Zealand and producing something excellent, rather than those who're imitating something else, badly.
Jones The Grocer
143 Carlton Gore Road
Newmarket
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 522 9161
http://www.jonesthegrocer.com
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Two Fifteen, Mt Eden
Being a Brit recently arrived in Auckland, I occasionally get a craving for a taste of home. Not 'home' as in dodgy pub food and flaccid clingfilmed sandwiches, but 'home' as in genuine, full-flavoured and exciting European food. I mean chorizo that's actually chorizo, risotto that doesn't come in a packet, food cooked with an understanding that butter is a crucial ingredient rather than a curse on mankind, and so on. Don't get me wrong - there's plenty of great food to be had here, but as I'm sure Kiwis in the UK find, local cuisine is fine to an extent, but sometimes you just want something that tastes like it did at home.
So reading in a recent issue of Dish magazine that ex Orbit (SkyCity) sous-chef Jeremy Schmid had opened Two Fifteen on Dominion Road, and that said restaurant focused on 'familiar bistro fare' with a modern twist, I thought I'd give it a go. The menu certainly looks the part, not over-fussy, with classic dishes such as pork, herb & garlic sausage with mashed potato and browned onions and roast chicken with pumpkin & parmesan smash showing what looks like a dedication to getting the basics right, whilst adding a little interest along the way. So we booked for the future father-in-law's 60th birthday, during the week (the main celebration being on the weekend).
Now, whilst I agree that you can't be all things to all people all of the time, I'm normally satisfied with being some things to most people most of the time. Two Fifteen faces a bit of a challenge from the outset, being both a 'bistro' and a 'wine bar' on the sign outside and managing to not quite be either on the inside. I appreciate the concept entirely - the idea that whatever you come in for, be it a full three course thing or just a glass of wine, you'll be treated the same and feel just as comfortable - but it's in the execution that this falls down. Take Fifteen in London for example, which has a similar ethos. Upstairs are the drinkers and snackers. Downstairs are the diners. Neither is made to feel uncomfortable by the others' presence.
At Two Fifteen (see what I did there?), the two clash horribly. Our six diners were seated on a table for eight. The other two places were occupied by two old-school business gentlemen who seemed to have been there for most of the afternoon. I'm as liberal as the next man, and after a few wines have been known to get a bit lairy, but sitting right next to a table of newly-arrived diners these two were mightily out of order. Had they been sitting in an actual bar, with other drinkers, it wouldn't have been a problem. But seated at the same table as six diners who didn't know them from Adam, it was a terrible start to the night. Mentioning this to the waiting staff provided precisely no reaction, so one of our party had to tackle it himself, resulting in a faintly uncomfortable feeling in our corner of the room.
This episode swallowed, we moved on. Bread was unremarkable. I'm a big sourdough fan, and this was standard white, fluffy, dull. The butter was excellent, though - well sourced and served at the perfect temperature. The menu, as I've mentioned, is petite but well thought out. Again, the theory is spot on, but the execution is lacking.
I've been spoilt with pork belly recently, at Black Barn in Hawke's Bay. I've cooked it a lot too. The low temperatures, long cooking time and moisture provided by the meat itself helped with wine and oil all combine to produce something silkily gorgeous, something meltingly tender and deeply, richly flavoured. Serve straight from the oven for maximum effect. Unless you're the chaps at Two Fifteen who take a roast that was overly-garlicked to start with, slice, cool and then heat up on the grill, ensuring a starkly flavoured, dry, dense cut, the complete antithesis of what pork belly should be. I have pondered the logic of this over and over since, and can only assume that there's a stauch vegetarian cooking in there. Accompanying kumara mash was sickly and dense, but that's par for the course with kumara I find.
That said, whoever's behind the pass does know fish, and the cooking thereof, as the pan-fried snapper was as good a piece of fish as I've seen in a restaurant, expertly fried with crisped skin and softly flaking flesh beneath. The herb risotto upon which it rested, however, was pooled on top with melted butter, speaking of either too long under the heat lamps or simply poor technique.
The dessert menu was where Two Fifteen shone. The flourless chocolate cake is absolutely superb, with the accompanying salted caramel and passion fruit mascarpone providing a brilliant counterpoint to the richness of the cake. An excellent parfait was light, delicate, and amusingly scattered with 'baby popcorn', which I still can't quite work out. The one low point came in the presentation of the caramel hazelnut tart, which although delicious, looked for all the world as if it had just been removed from its wrapper.
On the wine front, the list is decent, but not up to scratch for a self-styled 'wine bar'. Mid-market brands abound, prices are on the optimistic side (possibly to compensate for the very reasonably priced food). The service is endearingly inept, 10 points for effort and friendliness, but a little to learn nonetheless. It's no fun watching your beautiful dessert wilt for 10 minutes whilst the final plate is brought to the table, no matter how many apologies you get in the meantime.
So on the whole, what's the verdict? Mixed, I'm afraid. The theory of this place is great, and some of the execution is good too. Service will improve with time, it's early days yet. The desserts are excellent, creative and well-made. But the practice of intermingling casual drinkers with diners, the appalling way that pork was treated, the uninspired, lacklustre wine list and a number of frankly careless errors in the kitchen are more worrying; this speaks of a more deep-seated problem with Two Fifteen, that amid the flashes of greatness, perhaps they're just fundamentally not very good at being either a restaurant or a bar.
With time, I would love to be proved wrong, as Auckland needs more places with this description. They just need to be able deliver on the promise.
Two Fifteen Bistro and Wine Bar
215 Dominion Road
Mt Eden
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 630 6474
http://twofifteen.co.nz
So reading in a recent issue of Dish magazine that ex Orbit (SkyCity) sous-chef Jeremy Schmid had opened Two Fifteen on Dominion Road, and that said restaurant focused on 'familiar bistro fare' with a modern twist, I thought I'd give it a go. The menu certainly looks the part, not over-fussy, with classic dishes such as pork, herb & garlic sausage with mashed potato and browned onions and roast chicken with pumpkin & parmesan smash showing what looks like a dedication to getting the basics right, whilst adding a little interest along the way. So we booked for the future father-in-law's 60th birthday, during the week (the main celebration being on the weekend).
Now, whilst I agree that you can't be all things to all people all of the time, I'm normally satisfied with being some things to most people most of the time. Two Fifteen faces a bit of a challenge from the outset, being both a 'bistro' and a 'wine bar' on the sign outside and managing to not quite be either on the inside. I appreciate the concept entirely - the idea that whatever you come in for, be it a full three course thing or just a glass of wine, you'll be treated the same and feel just as comfortable - but it's in the execution that this falls down. Take Fifteen in London for example, which has a similar ethos. Upstairs are the drinkers and snackers. Downstairs are the diners. Neither is made to feel uncomfortable by the others' presence.
At Two Fifteen (see what I did there?), the two clash horribly. Our six diners were seated on a table for eight. The other two places were occupied by two old-school business gentlemen who seemed to have been there for most of the afternoon. I'm as liberal as the next man, and after a few wines have been known to get a bit lairy, but sitting right next to a table of newly-arrived diners these two were mightily out of order. Had they been sitting in an actual bar, with other drinkers, it wouldn't have been a problem. But seated at the same table as six diners who didn't know them from Adam, it was a terrible start to the night. Mentioning this to the waiting staff provided precisely no reaction, so one of our party had to tackle it himself, resulting in a faintly uncomfortable feeling in our corner of the room.
This episode swallowed, we moved on. Bread was unremarkable. I'm a big sourdough fan, and this was standard white, fluffy, dull. The butter was excellent, though - well sourced and served at the perfect temperature. The menu, as I've mentioned, is petite but well thought out. Again, the theory is spot on, but the execution is lacking.
I've been spoilt with pork belly recently, at Black Barn in Hawke's Bay. I've cooked it a lot too. The low temperatures, long cooking time and moisture provided by the meat itself helped with wine and oil all combine to produce something silkily gorgeous, something meltingly tender and deeply, richly flavoured. Serve straight from the oven for maximum effect. Unless you're the chaps at Two Fifteen who take a roast that was overly-garlicked to start with, slice, cool and then heat up on the grill, ensuring a starkly flavoured, dry, dense cut, the complete antithesis of what pork belly should be. I have pondered the logic of this over and over since, and can only assume that there's a stauch vegetarian cooking in there. Accompanying kumara mash was sickly and dense, but that's par for the course with kumara I find.
That said, whoever's behind the pass does know fish, and the cooking thereof, as the pan-fried snapper was as good a piece of fish as I've seen in a restaurant, expertly fried with crisped skin and softly flaking flesh beneath. The herb risotto upon which it rested, however, was pooled on top with melted butter, speaking of either too long under the heat lamps or simply poor technique.
The dessert menu was where Two Fifteen shone. The flourless chocolate cake is absolutely superb, with the accompanying salted caramel and passion fruit mascarpone providing a brilliant counterpoint to the richness of the cake. An excellent parfait was light, delicate, and amusingly scattered with 'baby popcorn', which I still can't quite work out. The one low point came in the presentation of the caramel hazelnut tart, which although delicious, looked for all the world as if it had just been removed from its wrapper.
On the wine front, the list is decent, but not up to scratch for a self-styled 'wine bar'. Mid-market brands abound, prices are on the optimistic side (possibly to compensate for the very reasonably priced food). The service is endearingly inept, 10 points for effort and friendliness, but a little to learn nonetheless. It's no fun watching your beautiful dessert wilt for 10 minutes whilst the final plate is brought to the table, no matter how many apologies you get in the meantime.
So on the whole, what's the verdict? Mixed, I'm afraid. The theory of this place is great, and some of the execution is good too. Service will improve with time, it's early days yet. The desserts are excellent, creative and well-made. But the practice of intermingling casual drinkers with diners, the appalling way that pork was treated, the uninspired, lacklustre wine list and a number of frankly careless errors in the kitchen are more worrying; this speaks of a more deep-seated problem with Two Fifteen, that amid the flashes of greatness, perhaps they're just fundamentally not very good at being either a restaurant or a bar.
With time, I would love to be proved wrong, as Auckland needs more places with this description. They just need to be able deliver on the promise.
Two Fifteen Bistro and Wine Bar
215 Dominion Road
Mt Eden
Auckland
+64 (0) 9 630 6474
http://twofifteen.co.nz
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