I hear Metro will begin their Restaurant of the Year judging next month, after skipping a year in 2023. There are a few of these lists out now and Metro is one of the good ones - I was on their judging panel for several years before joining Viva and it’s a very interesting process to observe from the inside. Even if you visited each of the restaurants five times (hard enough to get to them all once) there is no way, really, to definitively work out which should be ranked outside the list at 51 and which at 50, so you inevitably rely on random takes from around the room. “My brother went there once and reckons the maitre d’ was on something” would typically be enough to strike a decent restaurant from consideration. Of course, as at any meeting, the loudest voices in the room tended to have an advantage, and the views of the editor rightly carried more weight. This’ll be year one for Metro’s new food editor Charlotte Muru-Lanning and a great opportunity for her to put her own stamp on these legacy awards.
Jo Thornton and I will create Viva’s fourth annual Best Restaurants list closer to summer. We’ve pitched ours as a more fun, subjective list - if you tend to agree with my weekly judgments in the magazine, you’ll enjoy the restaurants that make up our Top 50.
Then there is Cuisine magazine’s Good Food guide (most recently published in July), which covers the whole country and which gets a huge amount of respect from chefs, in my experience. Editor Kelli Brett and the Cuisine team work very hard on this one and deserve the kudos they get from industry.
You can safely ignore any other list you see.
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I thought I knew it all when it came to eating out but I learnt a lesson on doggie bag etiquette this week.
As the waitress cleared our plates from a group dinner I asked her, as always, to pack up the leftovers so I could take them home (it’s a little awkward but I hate thinking of this stuff going into the bin and, though at that moment the last thing I feel like is another mouthful of pad see ew, I have four curious children at home who love picking through their Dad’s takeaway boxes).
A few minutes later she delivered a heaving bag of the stuff and, after half-heartedly offering it to some of the people next to me, I wandered out of the restaurant with my payload.
But I was mocked and chided by my friends for this behaviour the next day. And so I am forced to conclude that ownership of leftovers does not transfer at the time they are rescued, but only after they have been delivered and proactively offered around the group.
I thought I was the guy discovering treasure in someone else’s inorganics pile. Turns out I was more like the guy stealing someone else’s washing.
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I’ve been trying to get into one particular restaurant but keep missing out on a booking. This is not often a problem in Auckland, where reservations are pretty casual and the maitre d’ can inevitably squeeze you in. But this particular restaurant is small, and suburban. The suburban part is key because, while Commercial Bay might have ups and downs due to weather, traffic, major events and economic mood, residential eating tends to be locked in and consistent. To get a table you’re not just battling no-hopers like yourself who only thought of the idea this morning - you’re also battling families who live within walking distance, whose whole weekend revolves around this one booking and who can’t afford to muck around.
I’ll keep trying. In the meantime it’s great to come across an Auckland restaurant whose main problem is turning people away.
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Here are some paywalled links to my food writing in Viva
Where I’m reviewing
A seaside restaurant right under the harbour bridge called First Mates, Last Laugh.
“… not an improv comedy troupe trained by pirates but a new restaurant so close to the sea you can almost smell it. You park your car somewhere nearby or, in my case, your Uber drops you off somewhere not at all nearby, then enjoy a moonlit stroll along an only slightly murdery boardwalk to a glowing house of fun, warmed by the love and laughter of people who’ve been drinking there since lunchtime.”
Where I was reviewing five years ago
The spicy chicken at Simon and Lee.
“I can’t blame the restaurant because the damn thing is called “Danger Spicy” on the menu and the waiter tried to talk us out of it. But we waved him away as if he was an idiot – surely the descriptor in question was targeted at the lukewarm drips of Parnell, fresh from a three hour day working in the creative industries; the sort of guys who say “not TOO much black pepper thanks” when the waiter tries to season their brunch. Jon and I were real men, who’d been to places like Thailand and Sandringham. It wasn’t until we were one bite in, our insides on fire and fluid streaming rapidly from our noses, eyes and ears that we were forced to admit we should have taken the guy seriously.”
What people are asking
Dear Jesse
A group of us who work remotely are having an office day next Thursday and I thought we might head out for a drink afterwards. Unfortunately it’s been too long since I worked in the city and I’ve totally lost touch with the bar scene! Could you recommend somewhere that is nice, mid-range budget and with some food if people get hungry? We’re getting together not far from the NZME building actually, but can jump in a cab if need be.
Thank you!
Jayne
Jayne, I have a passionfruit martini and a city view with your name on it.
Hey Jessie. It is Kelli at Cuisine. Not Calli. Far too close to cauli as in cauliflower.