By Jove, there’s a conjoined cluster of cute containers with evident nautical aspirations on the corner of Canterbury and London Streets. With noticeable skill these former storage workhorses have been melded into an attractive etude of urban design that gestures lovingly to all passers-by.
It was late on a Sunday morning but that didn’t stop us from going in for liquid refreshments. It might have been too early for me to enjoy a bite to eat and the quesadilla did look ravishing, but the body was calling for some restorative tongue-tingling tannin; several well rehearsed, calculated mouthfilling swirls and a number of bold reds later and all was well, seated on stools with wine barrels as tables, we were blessed with the living magnificence of the harbour basin views, the clear blue, sun-filled sky above and the restful pace of a Sunday morning Lyttelton. It was a wonderful thing. The inexorable passing of time drew me and the others so much closer to feeding time and so it was that a colourful clutter of earthly delights came upon us in the guise of a platter for three. Tasty tidbits and healthy bites helped us along the way to yet another glass of choice. My simple childhood pleasures took hold , however, and I succumbed entirely willingly and with gladness of heart to a gourmet toastie. Of course, in my day the toasties were not specifically designated as ‘gourmet’ and came with cheddar cheese and/or a chunk of ham, maybe some onion. Give yourselves up to the girls behind the bar at the Porthole and you’ll be happy enough I would think; just don’t forget you’re in a conglomerate of containers not the French Cafe....
This cosy little establishment has a serious looking espresso machine, a formidable number of alcoholic choices and a changing food menu to offer its customers every good reason to choose either a comfortable soft couch within or a stool and barrel in the sun outside. Lucky Lytteltonians!
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