I Ate Auckland
Jesse Mulligan's weekly snacks
Home for dinner
I was midway through a photoshoot for Viva’s Top 50 Restaurants last year when I took a call from the boss at TV3, telling me she was closing down The Project. It was a short conversation - what more was there to say? - and I returned to the cover shoot, smiling though possibly not smizing on cue.
When you’re on TV your work news is news news, and as the story broke later that day I heard from loads of acquaintances and a few journalists wanting to get my take on it. Was I surprised? Was it a shock? How was I doing? Losing your job isn’t awesome but for me there’s something much worse: sympathy from strangers (I think it’s a control thing - I can monitor and to a large extent decide my own emotional reaction to something, but there’s nothing I can do to stop you feeling sorry for me).
Was I surprised? Yes, but not shocked. Conveniently for everybody writing stories on the announcement, I’d recently said the following to the podcast Money Talks:
“I’ll keep doing [The Project] until it closes down, and I won’t be bitter at all when it happens.”
“And I think that’s true of media in general. Take the jobs when they are offered to you, don’t feel bad when they disappear, and enjoy your moment of being wanted, as there will be a day where you’re not wanted.”
It was an irresistible quote to conclude the Herald’s coverage of The Project’s closure, and though it was an easy sort of thing for me to say hypothetically, it ended up being pretty accurate. I immediately felt grateful, not bitter, and I threw myself into brainstorming other creative projects in quite a chipper way (a psychologist might see this as a coping mechanism, and although I married a psychologist I haven’t invited her to confirm this.
“I feel energised!” I said, to anyone who would listen, one of whom usefully reminded me that it might be a good idea to keep my enthusiasm to myself as my co-workers grieved the loss of their jobs in more normal ways.
Three months on, the quest for an income stream commensurate with raising four children in Auckland continues, but in the meantime I’ve enjoyed spending weekday evenings with said children for the first time since 2017 (2013 if you count the Seven Sharp years). I’ve also enjoyed having time and energy to put into other ideas - paid and unpaid. So welcome to a little newsletter I’ve created to share some of my food writing and interviews on NZ Herald Viva and RNZ, as well as my ongoing quest to put delicious things in my mouth.
The newsletter is free, in a couple of senses. You don’t have to pay for it, and (maybe because of that) it’s also free to become whatever it wants to become.
Sign up if you love food, and if you’d like to see where this experiment goes.
What I’m eating
Tableside s'mores at Anise - the new restaurant inside the old French Cafe. Sid and Chand Sahrawat have made the bold move to go comparatively casual inside the main dining room, while the function space across the courtyard continues to run as The French Cafe Thursday to Saturday. I’ll be back to review Anise properly but for now how good is a little theatre when you’re dining? The waiter-made guac at Inca, Sean Connolly’s steak tartare at the Grill, or the spinning salad I once had at Lawry’s LA midway through a 2000s night out that started poolside at the Mondrian and turned into something from a Bret Easton Ellis novel.
Anyway Anise is officially open, congrats Sid and Chand! Read Johanna Thornton’s preview here (Viva premium).
What’s eating me
Haloumi melting all over everything. It’s my Achilles’ heel. We bought a kilo block from Gilmour’s and so far I’ve melted it over the barbecue and the oven tray and even stuck it to the non-stick pan. Are some haloumis better at frying than others? Do I have things too hot? Not hot enough?
For now just looking forward to day one in the afterlife when the bouncer greets me outside foodie heaven and says “Hey Jesse! Welcome to paradise! Just show us you can grill this piece of haloumi and we’ll let you in no problem. Gotta keep out the pretenders - you know how it is bro!”
What I’m drinking
Cambridge Distillery gin from the pretty country town just south of Hamilton. When I was growing up a visit to Cambridge involved one of two things: pashing or scrapping. But these days its bourgie as - who knew a velodrome is all it took to turn a place around? Anyways Cambridge Distillery do an intimidatingly large selection of artisan gins and related liquors - I usually nod and glaze over when somebody talks to me about botanicals but I swear to God you can taste the black pepper in their Knocknaveagh Cambridge Dry.
Who I’m meeting
Rick Stein, who I had a lovely chat to about his book Simple Suppers. We talked about Elizabeth David, Jane Grigson and why it's okay to use canned beans in recipes. You can podcast it via RNZ here.
What I’m cooking
Sam Parish’s ice cube pesto pasta - a genius form of preserving for when the season turns from “God I can’t eat another leaf of fresh basil” to “what I wouldn’t give for a single leaf of fresh basil”. Get the recipe free via RNZ here.
Where I’m reviewing
(This and the below links are behind Viva’s paywall, but isn’t it worth a couple of bucks a week to save you regularly wasting hundreds of dollars somewhere that isn’t any good?)
Wakuwaku - a flash Japanese restaurant in Parnell. My favourite part, a guy who for a lot of the time just stands there by himself staring straight ahead.
Where I reviewed a year ago
Squisito, a Kiwi-Italian in Herne Bay. One of my weirder nights out, concluding with the owner mistaking me for Jesus.
Where I reviewed two years ago
kingi - the wonderful Tom Hishon restaurant inside the Britomart hotel.
Where I reviewed five years ago
Saint Alice, up the escalator at The Viaduct. After publishing, Viva received this message: “Jesse made the comment that it was like a bad night in Whangamata. As a resident of Whangamata I would really like to know what a bad night consists of. Thank you Paulette.”
What people are asking
Hi Jesse Can you recommend somewhere in Auckland with a view, that won’t totally break the bank? Thanks, Louise
Sure can Louise! Here you go.
I've never managed to melt haloumi - I reckon you must have an unusual one!
I appreciate that it will be a difficult or even divisive aspect to your excellent substack Jess, but any chance of mentioning the cost of some meals and drinks, just for comparison to down here in Dunedin?