Estasi, Ponsonby

Come on, you knew this could never be a positive review. Look at the name of the place for Christ's sake - unless this place is knocking out pills of the decidedly dodgy type, it's never going to live up to it, is it? It doesn't end there - styling a restaurant like some low-rent Euro-disco circa 1992 just doesn't get the appetite going.

But where friends go, friends must follow, and thus I ended up spending part of my Saturday night perusing one of the most challenging menus I've seen in the last six months and wondering if it'd be rude of me to excuse myself to visit the Murder Burger down the road. Challenging in the wrong way, in case you wondered.

Let's start with the wine list, because that's what I did. Brands abound, with a double slap in the face in that not only did we recognise most of these from the middle shelves of most supermarkets, but that the enormous mark up was that much more obvious this way. I used to work in wine wholesale, so I get the economics at work here, but there's no way you can get me to shell out $40 for Oyster Bay, the one purest expression of how utterly pallid New Zealand wine can get. Forgive me for being mildly disappointed, but aren't we in a wine-producing country here? Pride in a national product, anyone? There's plenty of astounding wine being made here, much of it very reasonably priced, so there's no excuse for it not to turn up on restaurant lists.

So, disappointment so far. For some reason, we were taking our time to decide on the food order, despite several increasingly urgent requests from our waitress. Perhaps some sort of extra-sensory perception was holding us back - our brains warning us not to go any further. Or perhaps we were just desperately scouring the list looking for anything remotely edible.

Trust your instincts, mother always used to say, and on this occasion I sorely wished I had. With the kitchen having run out of lamb shanks (at 8pm on a Saturday night - nice ordering, guys), I went for the steak, opting for the simplest option on the menu for safety. Rare, came the done side of medium. A very poor piece of meat, which the kitchen had attempted to disguise with a slick coating of dense mushroom sauce. Piled precariously next to it were some leaden sauteed potatoes topped with 'mushy peas' - in reality some garden peas which a particularly venomous chef had cooked until dry and then squashed with a fork.

Lack of anything of interest in front of me led to me checking out the other plates. On the one opposite me, chicken. Doused in the same sauce that drowned my steak. On the one next to me, venison, with the same bizarre vegetable tower as on mine. The cynicism from the kitchen flavoured everything - when they constructed my meal, did they think carefully about every component or chuck together whatever they had in the fridge? The same accompaniment, the same sauce for multiple dishes doesn't really make you think there's a particularly discerning hand at work back there. The fact that both elements were extraordinarily badly cooked didn't help matters.

Funnily, given her earlier clinginess, our waitress disappeared completely shortly after the second bottle of wine (between five people) was ordered. We eventually managed to collar a colleague and terrorize them into bringing one over, but this continued. Dessert was skipped as firstly there was literally nothing on the menu worth the bother (a rarity in itself when dining with three women), and secondly as we seriously thought we might be there until Sunday evening.

Coffee then. Predictably awful. The price? At $30 a main dish on average, not horrendous, but not brilliant either. I'm not sure what's more offensive, the cynically constructed, badly cooked food, the frankly weird service, or the fact that at the end of all of this, they actually want you to pay for it.

Trust your instincts. Go anywhere else.

Estasi

222 Ponsonby Road

Auckland

+64 (0) 9 361 3222

http://www.estasi.co.nz

Mekong Neua, Kingsland

One of the many food-related things that London does pretty poorly is Thai food. For every Soho Thai or Busaba Eathai, there's a hundred local aberrations such as Ta Krai and the like. Seriously, London has a great rep and some terrific restaurants, but scratch the surface and there's some horrible crap there. Tough, overcooked meats; thin, spiteful sauces; cynical chillies; limp... everything. We had to leave, if only for the sake of our dinners.

Fortunately since coming to Auckland we've had some tremendous Thai meals, one such being a midweek sojourn at Mekong Neua - a comparatively understated little place quietly holding its own amid louder neighbours such as Canton Café. It's a curious little place, with a roaring fire in the front section comically lent a bit of heat by a strategically-placed electric heater. Odd little touches like this aside though, it's comfortably forgettable inside.

The food's the star in this one though, with the crispier appetisers showing a deft hand on the fryer handle and a typically simple yet effective dipping sauce setting the selection off perfectly. Curries were rich, flavoursome and powerfully chillied as requested, with everything in them perfectly cooked and still bursting with flavour and character.

I don't mean to be controversial, but I think there's only so far you can take some cuisines. Thai, certain Indian, Cantonese - all great foods but you wouldn't want any of them messed with, elevated to rarified heights like the finest French or Japanese dishes. Their charm lies in their substance, their earthiness, their unfussed simplicity. So-called 'Royal' Thai as practised at places like Fulham's Blue Elephant leaves me a bit cold (not to mention irritatingly poorer).

This is where it's at - fiery chillies, substantial sauces, experienced cooking and great service. All of these are in ample supply at Mekong Neua - worth braving Kingsland's notoriously appalling parking for.

Vivace, Auckland Central

Like many things, hackneyed phrases tend to get my hackles up - 'too many cooks spoil the broth'; 'many hands make light work'; 'he doesn't suffer fools gladly'; 'at the end of the day...' All excuses of a foetid and stagnant vocabulary, if you ask me.

Take, for example, 'never judge a book by its cover'. Personally I tend to, and in the main I have excellent results. If the author's name is embossed, and in larger type than the title, it's probably rubbish. If it has the words Dan Brown on it, it'll be an almighty crap-fest of tenuous conspiracy theories and increasingly implausible events, written by a five-year-old. My prejudice is there for a reason, and serves me well.

The same goes with restaurants - you know the bad signs. Pictures of food outside, with the exception of certain Asian restaurants, is never a good omen. Puns in the name - never good. Waiters loitering in the doorway - instantly avoid. Names that promise too much too overtly - again with the exception of the numerous excellent Chinese restaurants named 'Lucky...' - tend to under-deliver.

Vivace reminded me on first sight of cello lessons aged 10. Dreading the sight of that word on a piece of music, whose meaning (lively, fast-paced) meant fumbled notes, sweaty hands and a grim look from the tutor as I hacked and sawed my way through a quicker than usual passage. But that's just me - I would assume that the name promises a 'lively' place, and that gives me a creeping sense that I'm about to be disappointed. Banishing these thoughts, I followed my companions in.

It's actually quite a good descriptor, this one. On a Friday evening, the place was about as lively as it could be without being irritating. Like a lot of good places on a Friday night, the exhilaration of ending a working week was tangible. Loud, vibrant and instantly appealing - the four of us joined in immediately, attacking a superb Ribiero del Duero with enthusiasm whilst attempting to order at least one of everything from the hot tapas menu.

And the food is good. For Auckland's CBD it's excellent, with the food as uplifting as the atmosphere - melting cubes of slow-cooked pork belly, sizzling chorizo slices, deliciously stuffed bell peppers and plate after plate of equally tremendous morsels which disappeared with indecent pace. The end of the meal came more as a physical necessity than anything else.

It got me thinking about going out to dinner on the weekend. Is anyone in the mood for intense fine dining on a Friday night? Or do we want to hoover excellent red wine and hearty tapas-style food, talking loudly and reveling in the weekend to come? I do - and Vivace's the place to do it. This is one place that really does live up to the name. Definitely recommended.

Vivace
50 High Street
Auckland Central
1010

+64 (0) 9 302 2303

http://www.vivacerestaurant.co.nz

Squid Row, Eden Terrace

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

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

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

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