Desperate to wrench my post-festive-season-abused , bad-food-bashed blubbery, man-boob dominated body from the well-worn but welcoming living room couch I thrust my person out the door and presented myself at the eatery known to us all as Aikmans. You’ve all been there and if you haven’t it behoves you to give it a try as it offers a surprising touch of elegance of décor, in a St Tropez gin-palace kind of way. Luxuriate on soft furnishings, inside or out, and sip your wine without a care in the world as you scan all that lies before you.
Spacious and comfortable, open and airy, you will find it relaxing if your sensibilities match mine and you appreciate the effort that has gone into a workable restaurant fit-out.
But does the service meet expectations? There have been some criticisms over time and some are fair enough; Christchurch in general has an appalling record in this area, with the city’s cafes and restaurants widespread inability to meet consumers’ standards, a glaring lack of staff training evident everywhere and a seeming lack of concern about this. Harsh perhaps but a visit to Wellington will proffer a swift reminder of what should be available…Christchurch has lost so many experienced wait staff since the earthquakes and there has been a frantic rush by cafes and restaurants to reopen, re-establish and capitalize on the gold rush. Most places have been very busy and I am betting there either has been no time put aside for effective staff training or these businesses have just not been able to find trained, experienced staff. Can you forgive this?
On my relatively recent visit Aikmans did not suffer from any of the above and the staff served my needs in a prompt, polite and professional manner. Of course, I never look for trouble, as such, or seek to vilify a business but will not retreat from making relevant observations.
A glass of Moet is ever a vein fizzing way to start lunch and as we Kiwis never balk at a bowl of seafood chowder and a dose of fish and chips the choice of what to eat was made accordingly. In reference to the latter it has oft been suggested that we are bonded to batter perhaps even more than the English, the world’s most prolific consumers of this dish and that we have taken it to a much higher and more palatable level than anyone thought possible in the Colonies.
The chowder passed muster with its chunks of edible goodness, its smooth, tasty textures, olfactory pleasing oceanic aromas and flavours befitting creatures of the deep.
The champagne kept coming, washing its gentle swell over me, casting me away to my fantasy island, far from the interminable jostling and crunching of my inner city life.
Fizzing like a soap-powered 1950s toy metal boat in the bath, I blubbered with excitement at receiving my plate of battered Gurnard, soon calming down as the inexorable connection with the Canterbury Coast & Pegasus Bay set in and impressed upon me a joyful reminder of what eating local fare is all about. Yes, admittedly the fish was coated in batter but oh so evocative of childhood days eating f & c wrapped in newspapers. The taste is still there, the thoughts run beautifully rampant through my mind and it mattered not that what I was eating was on a plate instead of in paper!
I stayed with the Moet for more than a Moet longer, drifting on my very own sea of satisfaction, gazing at the land beyond…..
Spacious and comfortable, open and airy, you will find it relaxing if your sensibilities match mine and you appreciate the effort that has gone into a workable restaurant fit-out.
But does the service meet expectations? There have been some criticisms over time and some are fair enough; Christchurch in general has an appalling record in this area, with the city’s cafes and restaurants widespread inability to meet consumers’ standards, a glaring lack of staff training evident everywhere and a seeming lack of concern about this. Harsh perhaps but a visit to Wellington will proffer a swift reminder of what should be available…Christchurch has lost so many experienced wait staff since the earthquakes and there has been a frantic rush by cafes and restaurants to reopen, re-establish and capitalize on the gold rush. Most places have been very busy and I am betting there either has been no time put aside for effective staff training or these businesses have just not been able to find trained, experienced staff. Can you forgive this?
On my relatively recent visit Aikmans did not suffer from any of the above and the staff served my needs in a prompt, polite and professional manner. Of course, I never look for trouble, as such, or seek to vilify a business but will not retreat from making relevant observations.
A glass of Moet is ever a vein fizzing way to start lunch and as we Kiwis never balk at a bowl of seafood chowder and a dose of fish and chips the choice of what to eat was made accordingly. In reference to the latter it has oft been suggested that we are bonded to batter perhaps even more than the English, the world’s most prolific consumers of this dish and that we have taken it to a much higher and more palatable level than anyone thought possible in the Colonies.
The chowder passed muster with its chunks of edible goodness, its smooth, tasty textures, olfactory pleasing oceanic aromas and flavours befitting creatures of the deep.
The champagne kept coming, washing its gentle swell over me, casting me away to my fantasy island, far from the interminable jostling and crunching of my inner city life.
Fizzing like a soap-powered 1950s toy metal boat in the bath, I blubbered with excitement at receiving my plate of battered Gurnard, soon calming down as the inexorable connection with the Canterbury Coast & Pegasus Bay set in and impressed upon me a joyful reminder of what eating local fare is all about. Yes, admittedly the fish was coated in batter but oh so evocative of childhood days eating f & c wrapped in newspapers. The taste is still there, the thoughts run beautifully rampant through my mind and it mattered not that what I was eating was on a plate instead of in paper!
I stayed with the Moet for more than a Moet longer, drifting on my very own sea of satisfaction, gazing at the land beyond…..
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