Melton Estate Vineyard Restaurant enjoys a beautiful setting, looking out across lush and healthy plantings of vines to the west and a well landscaped, attractive outdoor dining and entertaining area to the south. Traditionally, this has been a conference and wedding venue and one has to wonder, in the light of the spanking given to it by the previous reviewer Spandex and others before him/her, whether this establishment hasn’t yet quite got the lunch thing fully sorted.
My experience was in fact in the evening and I was one of a group of approximately 40 people lucky enough to find themselves at this capacious, airy venue just about the time the sun was slipping across the Southern Alps to the west. The magical,creeping crepuscular rays of fragile sunshine danced soulfully and silently across the highly polished timber floor, casting long shadows & setting an unforgettable scene of splendid, warm quietude.
There was pinot noir, pinot gris, sauvignon blanc and other wines available as we mingled pre-dinner. As four tables of 10 we embarked on a three course set menu featuring a reasonable selection including entrees like Smoked chicken salad, Baby scallops, Soup or Bruschetta. Mains included Akaroa Salmon, Chicken, Pork, Lamb and Beef options so all bases covered there.
Given the numbers in our group I’m satisfied that the service was fine in terms of the time taken for the food to emerge from the kitchen and, without doubt, the waiters and waitresses all performed well within my expectations for such an event as far as friendliness and efficiency are concerned.
The Baby Scallops were a Peruvian import and enjoyed an accompaniment of citrus vinaigrette and salad greens, all a jumble on the plate. I was disappointed with the presentation and the scallops were less than inspiring. Of course it must be remembered that we in New Zealand are spoilt with our own exceptional scallops.....freshly dredged from off Tata Beach for instance.
Chef Angela Morrison did a sterling job of coping with the numbers and offering a choice of five mains. Looking around my own table it was clear that all five dishes were being called for. My grilled Beef Fillet was presented with fresh, crisp vegetables including favourites of mine, cauliflower and broccoli, beans and carrots. Add a side pottle of tomato kasundi to both appease our Indian visitors and proffer a rimbombo of spicy delight and you have a somewhat successful creation appreciated by those lucky diners who chose it on the night.
Desserts are not something I crave for but those who had the Sticky Date and Apricot Pudding gave it the thumbs up as they chomped their way through the mounds, slurping gently at the caramel sauce and slowly melting vanilla ice cream. I must admit I did drool ever so slightly...
There’s certainly some potential to deliver great quality coupled with more than creditable service in terrific surroundings but I would want to dine for lunch before making any conclusive determinations.
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
Strawberry Fare
As an unapologetic follower of food, fashion and the great fantasies of life,(I discovered the fountain of Youth years ago) it is with palpable delight that I herald the arrival of each new restaurant on the scene. Furthermore, let it be known that I am ever so happily roused from my normally sluggish state at the prospect of visiting reincarnations of restaurants closed after the earthquakes. New venues, new people(sometimes), new menu(often) but invariably a retention of the fundamental essence of what made the original good...or not so good. The core of training and expertise, culinary philosophy and style so often shines through in the rebirth.
And so it was that I found myself entertaining a beautiful woman one weekday lunchtime in the grand upstairs chamber with its high, steep, sloping ceilings, expansive vista across bustling Bealey Avenue to the vast and verdant Hagley Park beyond.
Service throughout our lunch was friendly, casual and perfectly fine for the occasion. Whilst the sexagenarians at a neighbouring table were enjoying a bottle of Moet we satisfied ourselves with, as surprised as you may be, glasses of chilled tap water, a deliberate and unmitigated expression of confidence in the state of this city’s water supply!
Notwithstanding anything alluded to above, Strawberry Fare when in Peterborough St had a reputation of mere mediocrity but, as they say, one lives in hope. Here in Bealey Ave I was impressed that the King prawns hailed from India ( a great seafaring and seafood country) , the dish itself being titled Prawns Gremalata. The ciabatta bread was crisp, lightly toasted and eminently edible, the grilled prawns a delicious excursion into Indian Ocean crustacean heaven, with the squeezed lemon juice, parsley and garlic additives giving a resoundingly memorable voice to a flavoursome medley. The fresh, moist salad washed through my oesophagus with gentle, caring aplomb, leaving me pleasantly surprised, comfortably satisfied and for an overall main course investment of under $22, completely convinced that a return visit should be made.
As long as you keep your expectations at a reasonable, sensible level you won’t be disappointed.
And so it was that I found myself entertaining a beautiful woman one weekday lunchtime in the grand upstairs chamber with its high, steep, sloping ceilings, expansive vista across bustling Bealey Avenue to the vast and verdant Hagley Park beyond.
Service throughout our lunch was friendly, casual and perfectly fine for the occasion. Whilst the sexagenarians at a neighbouring table were enjoying a bottle of Moet we satisfied ourselves with, as surprised as you may be, glasses of chilled tap water, a deliberate and unmitigated expression of confidence in the state of this city’s water supply!
Notwithstanding anything alluded to above, Strawberry Fare when in Peterborough St had a reputation of mere mediocrity but, as they say, one lives in hope. Here in Bealey Ave I was impressed that the King prawns hailed from India ( a great seafaring and seafood country) , the dish itself being titled Prawns Gremalata. The ciabatta bread was crisp, lightly toasted and eminently edible, the grilled prawns a delicious excursion into Indian Ocean crustacean heaven, with the squeezed lemon juice, parsley and garlic additives giving a resoundingly memorable voice to a flavoursome medley. The fresh, moist salad washed through my oesophagus with gentle, caring aplomb, leaving me pleasantly surprised, comfortably satisfied and for an overall main course investment of under $22, completely convinced that a return visit should be made.
As long as you keep your expectations at a reasonable, sensible level you won’t be disappointed.
Capones Licensed Restaurant - Rangiora
The streets of Rangiora were deathly quiet, there were no signs of party-goers, prostitutes, pimps, prohibitionists, preachers or even Eliot Ness for that matter, but an air of excitement bubbled away inside us like a vigorously fermenting brew, a mix to match our hungry selves. Was this how Bonnie & Clyde felt before carrying out one of their legendary heists?
We were to dine at Capone’s, one of the towns established restaurants offering white linen tablecloths, genuine serviettes and just that little bit of spit and polish so often yearned for in these uber-casual times, notwithstanding the presence of a couple of weapons of instant demise adorning the walls....Thompson submachine guns perhaps? Whilst this corner of mainland utopia might not be known for cutting edge, spectacular cuisine the hope always is that access to the hinterland’s fresh produce, meat and other edibles would lead to more than a modicum of sensational fare on the plate.
A bottle of Grant Burge cab sauv offered up its sound body of complexity to our expectant palates, its beautiful colouring, abundant blackberry and dark fruit bouquet playing a soothing melody to our willing souls, the still developing tannins and almighty panacean qualities of the cab sauv style aiding and abetting our enjoyment with a natural benevolence.
What better way to follow such a pleasant priming of my gastro engine than to throw myself upon the mercy of a medium-rare beef fillet with a honey mustard vinaigrette all atop a warm vegetable salad and bacon & herb mash? The steak emerged looking as alluring as ever but my initial excitement was irrepressively dampened somewhat on discovering a piece of fillet far from the medium-rare ordered. A $37.00 main needs to be prepared and delivered to the diner in accordance with the diner’s wishes. It is not often I encounter an incorrectly cooked steak in a restaurant, especially on a Saturday night when the master of the kitchen should be at work doing his thing. This was decidedly medium! Did Al Capone feel so crestfallen on being arrested in 1931?
We were to dine at Capone’s, one of the towns established restaurants offering white linen tablecloths, genuine serviettes and just that little bit of spit and polish so often yearned for in these uber-casual times, notwithstanding the presence of a couple of weapons of instant demise adorning the walls....Thompson submachine guns perhaps? Whilst this corner of mainland utopia might not be known for cutting edge, spectacular cuisine the hope always is that access to the hinterland’s fresh produce, meat and other edibles would lead to more than a modicum of sensational fare on the plate.
A bottle of Grant Burge cab sauv offered up its sound body of complexity to our expectant palates, its beautiful colouring, abundant blackberry and dark fruit bouquet playing a soothing melody to our willing souls, the still developing tannins and almighty panacean qualities of the cab sauv style aiding and abetting our enjoyment with a natural benevolence.
What better way to follow such a pleasant priming of my gastro engine than to throw myself upon the mercy of a medium-rare beef fillet with a honey mustard vinaigrette all atop a warm vegetable salad and bacon & herb mash? The steak emerged looking as alluring as ever but my initial excitement was irrepressively dampened somewhat on discovering a piece of fillet far from the medium-rare ordered. A $37.00 main needs to be prepared and delivered to the diner in accordance with the diner’s wishes. It is not often I encounter an incorrectly cooked steak in a restaurant, especially on a Saturday night when the master of the kitchen should be at work doing his thing. This was decidedly medium! Did Al Capone feel so crestfallen on being arrested in 1931?
Addington Coffee Co Op
Addington Coffee Co-Op
It’s no secret that I rise before dawn every morning, ready, willing and able to do what must be done to serve my masters...and mistresses of course.
The day begins with a strong shot of espresso coffee to jolt the slumbered senses into action and shock the joints into the slow and steady motion that propels me in the general direction of the bathroom. The ablutions completed, I turn my now more active mind to matters of sustenance and do a quick mental scan of cafes and restaurants in my area that might be open and offering appealing fare. I am nothing less than a fanatic, it’s true!
No such luck on this particular morning, however, as I knew I had to embark on a trans-suburban expedition to an urban legend known as the Addington Coffee Co-op. Surprisingly, in the years that this barking hound of quality has been serving the masses I had not once stepped over it’s threshold. Bad old me!
Today was the day, in any case, to remedy past sins and so I elbowed my way in through the doors, past the mini Laundromat( mentally noting that I should have brought a full set of king sized sheets, pillowcases & duvet to run through whilst breakfasting)to join the formidable queue.
We’re all used to waiting in Christchurch these days so the 10 minute super-slow shuffle to the counter was a small inconvenience. In fact, it gave me time to survey the capacious room, the eclectic cross-section of Christchurchians, and others..and to choose my man-sized morsels of choice.
After weeks of exotic feasting throughout the country it was time to get back to basics and so the House Breakfast was my weapon of choice. I used it well to battle the mid morning pangs of Sunday hunger. Hungarian sausages from Peter Timms, rashes of middle bacon, outstandingly delicious poached eggs, potato hash and a small scoop of tangy chutney combined with a side of funky fungals – field mushrooms. Damn it man I was being spoilt in a fundamentally satisfying & special way.
The two cups of head-stomping coffee put lead back in my pencil, stoked my flagging boiler, revved up my idling engine and I was once more a born again dragon-slaying super human Lu-minary.
There’s no guarantee you’ll enjoy the same highs that I did at the Addington Coffee Co-op but until you go you’ll never know....
It’s no secret that I rise before dawn every morning, ready, willing and able to do what must be done to serve my masters...and mistresses of course.
The day begins with a strong shot of espresso coffee to jolt the slumbered senses into action and shock the joints into the slow and steady motion that propels me in the general direction of the bathroom. The ablutions completed, I turn my now more active mind to matters of sustenance and do a quick mental scan of cafes and restaurants in my area that might be open and offering appealing fare. I am nothing less than a fanatic, it’s true!
No such luck on this particular morning, however, as I knew I had to embark on a trans-suburban expedition to an urban legend known as the Addington Coffee Co-op. Surprisingly, in the years that this barking hound of quality has been serving the masses I had not once stepped over it’s threshold. Bad old me!
Today was the day, in any case, to remedy past sins and so I elbowed my way in through the doors, past the mini Laundromat( mentally noting that I should have brought a full set of king sized sheets, pillowcases & duvet to run through whilst breakfasting)to join the formidable queue.
We’re all used to waiting in Christchurch these days so the 10 minute super-slow shuffle to the counter was a small inconvenience. In fact, it gave me time to survey the capacious room, the eclectic cross-section of Christchurchians, and others..and to choose my man-sized morsels of choice.
After weeks of exotic feasting throughout the country it was time to get back to basics and so the House Breakfast was my weapon of choice. I used it well to battle the mid morning pangs of Sunday hunger. Hungarian sausages from Peter Timms, rashes of middle bacon, outstandingly delicious poached eggs, potato hash and a small scoop of tangy chutney combined with a side of funky fungals – field mushrooms. Damn it man I was being spoilt in a fundamentally satisfying & special way.
The two cups of head-stomping coffee put lead back in my pencil, stoked my flagging boiler, revved up my idling engine and I was once more a born again dragon-slaying super human Lu-minary.
There’s no guarantee you’ll enjoy the same highs that I did at the Addington Coffee Co-op but until you go you’ll never know....
The Jungle Cup
Instead of continuing north along Fitzgerald Avenue at the Kilmore St intersection I turned left toward the quiet, ghostliness of the central city. I was on my way from Sumner to Merivale and had heard of a little coffee stop on Madras St.
A right turn at Madras and, Voila! I was parked outside one of the city’s newest micro-cafes, The Jungle Cup on the corner of Salisbury and Madras.
The owners and operators of this portacom, plastic & paint pop-up are clearly looking ahead to the time when the builders and labourers will be grafting away in the immediate vicinity, hammering and banging, sawing and stapling their way from clock-on to morning tea, desperate for a cold drink, a coffee, a pie, sausage roll or even a salad and chips!
Let’s be perfectly honest with ourselves and concede that Christchurch is about to become the country’s biggest and busiest building site, with utes, trucks, vans and trailers cruising the streets, cranes criss-crossing the skyline and power tools of all shapes, sizes and kinds cutting through the tranquillity that now doth prevail. And so it must be if we are ever to move forward.....despite the efforts of EQC and many insurance companies to move slower than the pace of steam engines on their last legs.....
The Jungle Cup is perfectly placed to take advantage of the thirsty, hungry rush when it comes.
A smoked salmon bagel with a striking burst of bright orange carrot, glistening red tomato and a generous layering of luscious green was accompanied by a 4 bean salad, its slightly chilled self a delight on such a warm day. I sipped an Earl Grey tea in a paper cup underneath a green umbrella, contemplated the abstract artwork on the corrugated iron wall in front of me and nibbled at my daily bread. This seemed such a meditative space to be in, so unlike the city of old, so peaceful and uncomplicated - the simple, everyday fare altogether appropriate for the situation.
This little pit-stop might just be your cup of tea if you like gourmet sausage rolls (Moroccan Lamb for example), salads and/or interesting coffee-break cakes and slices. The venue is surely fascinating creativity on a tight budget but like everything in our ever-changing urban landscape, worth looking at on your way past.....
A right turn at Madras and, Voila! I was parked outside one of the city’s newest micro-cafes, The Jungle Cup on the corner of Salisbury and Madras.
The owners and operators of this portacom, plastic & paint pop-up are clearly looking ahead to the time when the builders and labourers will be grafting away in the immediate vicinity, hammering and banging, sawing and stapling their way from clock-on to morning tea, desperate for a cold drink, a coffee, a pie, sausage roll or even a salad and chips!
Let’s be perfectly honest with ourselves and concede that Christchurch is about to become the country’s biggest and busiest building site, with utes, trucks, vans and trailers cruising the streets, cranes criss-crossing the skyline and power tools of all shapes, sizes and kinds cutting through the tranquillity that now doth prevail. And so it must be if we are ever to move forward.....despite the efforts of EQC and many insurance companies to move slower than the pace of steam engines on their last legs.....
The Jungle Cup is perfectly placed to take advantage of the thirsty, hungry rush when it comes.
A smoked salmon bagel with a striking burst of bright orange carrot, glistening red tomato and a generous layering of luscious green was accompanied by a 4 bean salad, its slightly chilled self a delight on such a warm day. I sipped an Earl Grey tea in a paper cup underneath a green umbrella, contemplated the abstract artwork on the corrugated iron wall in front of me and nibbled at my daily bread. This seemed such a meditative space to be in, so unlike the city of old, so peaceful and uncomplicated - the simple, everyday fare altogether appropriate for the situation.
This little pit-stop might just be your cup of tea if you like gourmet sausage rolls (Moroccan Lamb for example), salads and/or interesting coffee-break cakes and slices. The venue is surely fascinating creativity on a tight budget but like everything in our ever-changing urban landscape, worth looking at on your way past.....
Upshot Coffee
The exhilarating, body-shaking aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans is a far cry from all those years ago when chicory essence was our staple drinking coffee ingredient! Stop your Draft horse and dray at 131 Bridle Path Rd in Heathcote, the area’s newest caffeine house, and inhale deeply. Feast your lusty eyes on the very quintessence of pop-up cafes, a rustic red shipping container, well fashioned to accommodate the necessary machinery, utensils and impliments entirely for your (the customer’s) satisfaction.
I neighed and whinnied like the horses in the adjoining riding school as I met the strong bolt of coffee head on and gobbled a steaming, fresh blueberry muffin which was remarkably similar in size to a Fiat Bambina. In fact, if you like muffins then this is the place for you as the menu consists in its entirety of, yes, you guessed it, muffins!
I just love the pioneering spirit that is manifested in makeshift al fresco cafe furniture, the creative use of old twentieth century wooden school desks, cable spools and far from perfect chairs. There’s something excitingly playful and endearing about it all; perhaps it makes the “going for a coffee” that much more interesting and memorable. The pop-up, junk recycle mentality has every potential to become an iconic Kiwi ‘invention’, a worldwide trend perhaps. Imagine a rough and ready pop-up container cafe in London or Paris. I could easily see such a thing becoming instantly fashionable. Enjoy its exclusivity here in Christchurch while you can and be assured that Upshot Coffee in Heathcote cuts to the very fundamental core of this outstanding, innovative new ‘style’. Believe it or not – you heard it here first!
I neighed and whinnied like the horses in the adjoining riding school as I met the strong bolt of coffee head on and gobbled a steaming, fresh blueberry muffin which was remarkably similar in size to a Fiat Bambina. In fact, if you like muffins then this is the place for you as the menu consists in its entirety of, yes, you guessed it, muffins!
I just love the pioneering spirit that is manifested in makeshift al fresco cafe furniture, the creative use of old twentieth century wooden school desks, cable spools and far from perfect chairs. There’s something excitingly playful and endearing about it all; perhaps it makes the “going for a coffee” that much more interesting and memorable. The pop-up, junk recycle mentality has every potential to become an iconic Kiwi ‘invention’, a worldwide trend perhaps. Imagine a rough and ready pop-up container cafe in London or Paris. I could easily see such a thing becoming instantly fashionable. Enjoy its exclusivity here in Christchurch while you can and be assured that Upshot Coffee in Heathcote cuts to the very fundamental core of this outstanding, innovative new ‘style’. Believe it or not – you heard it here first!
Botswana Butchery - Auckland Waterfront
They came and went in waves, surging along the Fullers ferry accessway before my very eyes. I was seated in pandiculated resplendence, infusing the best of Auckland’s waterside attractions, quietly people watching on a comfortable, elegant, cushion-cluttered couch. Of course, there was purpose in my seeming repose as I was a guest of this city’s newest gastronomic enterprise and was planning to eat, and eat well. The Botswana Butchery has gently seduced us all in recent years in Queenstown and Wanaka, always exhibiting sound touches of elegance, purveying exceptional quality in its exquisite produce and pandering to the tastebuds of discerning carnivores.
In the beautiful, bare-faced, deceitfully warm midday sun I felt I had the world at my fingertips as I sipped a glass of chilled Gibbston Valley Pinot Gris. In fact ‘The World’ was in port at the time and no more than 100 metres from where I was sitting, its well-heeled passengers(or should that be owners)sure to be occupying some of the tables inside the restaurant.
I had time to kill but my first dish, Sashimi of King Salmon. Hapuka Belly & Snapper with Wasabi, Soy Sauce and Pickled Ginger & Harissa sauce wasn’t long in arriving and presented as an effusive, kaleidoscopic burst of freshness, its brilliant natural colours complementing the succulent and satisfying slices from the sea. The pickled ginger & harissa sauce was full flavoured and pounced on the palate with each astounding, tingling, appetizing droplet.
My waiter Kieran, formerly from Aikmans in Christchurch, was well organised, efficient and amicable, at the ready with water refills and to satisfy my vinous demands. This faultless level of professionalism extended, I’m sure, to others in the Butchery’s employ as I was able to observe and hear the courteous and respectful interactions between the Maitre D’ and prospective diners at the nearby entrance.
A 450g ribeye on the bone from an establishment as well regarded as this must meet one’s expectations to 100%. Whilst I concede the cut was a superlative beast in anyone’s estimation, and certainly in mine, it was treated with less than its full respectful entitlement by being offered to me cooked beyond the requested rare to medium. This may well have been a teething problem as the restaurant had been open a mere seven days but cooking such a delicious piece of beef to perfection (or to the diner’s taste) is a non-negotiable matter, in my view. I do not cherish a medium+ treatment of fine meat but am, after all, a forgiving man who understands that running a restaurant is not an easy endeavour. Fortunately I had vicariously harvested grapes on Waiheke island at the Man O’ War winery and was drinking a glass or two of their fine syrah with its smooth, silky complexities and agreeably persuasive manner. I was happy enough......
There’s little doubt that many of us will have fond memories of the old Cin Cin on Quay dating back many years but the emergence of the Botswana Butchery on the same site and in the same premises is a move forward. I have every confidence that the BB will embed itself very quickly into the culinary psyche of Aucklanders and visitors to the city alike but they will need to be vigilant and must sweat the small stuff until all is 100%. Their reputation depends on it. I will return to feast again before the end of winter and I am truly hoping my steak is absolutely perfect. It’s non-negotiable.
In the beautiful, bare-faced, deceitfully warm midday sun I felt I had the world at my fingertips as I sipped a glass of chilled Gibbston Valley Pinot Gris. In fact ‘The World’ was in port at the time and no more than 100 metres from where I was sitting, its well-heeled passengers(or should that be owners)sure to be occupying some of the tables inside the restaurant.
I had time to kill but my first dish, Sashimi of King Salmon. Hapuka Belly & Snapper with Wasabi, Soy Sauce and Pickled Ginger & Harissa sauce wasn’t long in arriving and presented as an effusive, kaleidoscopic burst of freshness, its brilliant natural colours complementing the succulent and satisfying slices from the sea. The pickled ginger & harissa sauce was full flavoured and pounced on the palate with each astounding, tingling, appetizing droplet.
My waiter Kieran, formerly from Aikmans in Christchurch, was well organised, efficient and amicable, at the ready with water refills and to satisfy my vinous demands. This faultless level of professionalism extended, I’m sure, to others in the Butchery’s employ as I was able to observe and hear the courteous and respectful interactions between the Maitre D’ and prospective diners at the nearby entrance.
A 450g ribeye on the bone from an establishment as well regarded as this must meet one’s expectations to 100%. Whilst I concede the cut was a superlative beast in anyone’s estimation, and certainly in mine, it was treated with less than its full respectful entitlement by being offered to me cooked beyond the requested rare to medium. This may well have been a teething problem as the restaurant had been open a mere seven days but cooking such a delicious piece of beef to perfection (or to the diner’s taste) is a non-negotiable matter, in my view. I do not cherish a medium+ treatment of fine meat but am, after all, a forgiving man who understands that running a restaurant is not an easy endeavour. Fortunately I had vicariously harvested grapes on Waiheke island at the Man O’ War winery and was drinking a glass or two of their fine syrah with its smooth, silky complexities and agreeably persuasive manner. I was happy enough......
There’s little doubt that many of us will have fond memories of the old Cin Cin on Quay dating back many years but the emergence of the Botswana Butchery on the same site and in the same premises is a move forward. I have every confidence that the BB will embed itself very quickly into the culinary psyche of Aucklanders and visitors to the city alike but they will need to be vigilant and must sweat the small stuff until all is 100%. Their reputation depends on it. I will return to feast again before the end of winter and I am truly hoping my steak is absolutely perfect. It’s non-negotiable.
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