Scampi - one of the stars of the seafood section of the menu at Alma, Britomart. Photo/Babiche Martens
Scampi - one of the stars of the seafood section of the menu at Alma, Britomart. Photo/Babiche Martens
Feijoa and cumin pudding? A $20 slice of toast? Kim Knight finds much to think about - and even more to eat - at Alma.
Spain tasted like an octopus. In tapas bars and restaurants, for lunch and for dinner, we ate pulpo a la gallega.
Sometimes it came hotwith crunchy potatoes; other times, especially in salt-crusted Cadiz where the cathedral roof was crumbling and the sunlight was very bright, the octopus was cold and the spud was a salad, soaked in mayonnaise.
Alma serves the best of both. Chewy and charred tentacles on a pickle-spruiked Russian salad. Salty, creamy, fishy, tangy. Smoky with paprika and the burn of a grill plate. Octopus with oomph.
Auckland is in the grips of a Mediterranean renaissance. The city has pivoted to pasta and parsley has finally regained its dignity, but if Italian is hot, then Spanish is hotter. At Alma (Spanish for "soul") the kitchen is taking some genuinely surprising risks.
Witness that octopus ($28) but also consider another proliferating protein: tongue. It's currently starring in everything from tacos to souvlaki but, unless you knew you wouldn't know, because it's all thin-cut, blister-seared and carefully disguised. Put it in the "meat-and-delicious" category and move on. Unless you're at Alma.
I tried to see the beauty - a layer of approximately three million tiny slices of green olive, and a vivid yellow smear of preserved lemon-infused creaminess - but there was no avoiding the bovine nature of the beast. My mind's eye was full of cow and cud, a pair of big, brown eyes and a slurpy tongue that was now, inconceivably, sitting in front of me in its entirety. It tasted amazing (like a rich, fudgy terrine) and at $28 was excellent bang for the buck, but four of us still couldn't summons the culinary nerve to finish it off.
Perversely, we fell on the whole scampi, scooping barely cooked chunks of sweetness direct from the two spindly shells ($36) and then sucking the skeletons clean. Of course, it's easy to get a stellar performance from a luxury ingredient. A better measure of this restaurant's mettle was its take on pan con tomate, a Spanish breakfast staple that Alma has firmly repositioned to the cocktail hour. The tomato is cooked down to a rich sludge, is supplemented with oily anchovies and currently sits in my Top Three list of Good Things On Toast (see also: Kingi's kina and Homeland's creamed pāua).
Tomato on toast for grown-ups. The anchovy-laden tostado from the menu at Alma, Britomart. Photo/Jason Oxenham
The other thing about that toast? It arrived pre-sliced to accommodate our table of four. Little things make a big difference and Alma's service was knowledgeable, friendly and assured. Combine that with the classy fit-out (there's a slight deco and definitely European feel to the tiled bar and extended glass front), tables that are actually big enough to cope with a shared plates menu and an unobtrusive soundtrack and this is a great option for a relaxed but special meal with friends.
Street-side but not outside, the glassed interior at Alma. Photo/Jason Oxenham
For our money, the seafood dishes were the pick of those shared plates (don't miss the milky, almondy raw fish), but we doubled up on the pork pinchitos so we could have one each. Kudos on the juiciness of the skewered meat and a piquant pear-based relish, but essentially these were fancy, miniature soft tacos - $32 a serve on the menu, $36 on my bill and, ultimately, not worth a $72 price tag.
Can't see the restaurant for the trees? At Alma, the signage is inlaid on the doorstep. Photo/Jason Oxenham
Courgettes were a necessary but unremarkable green ($18). "Sweet potato, chilli, aioli" ($14) sounded too patatas bravas-adjacent to miss - but that is exactly what you should do. Two small patties and one slightly bigger, all caramelised beyond redemption, as chewy and flat as Macintosh's toffees left too long in a back pocket. So bad, it was like they had come from a completely different restaurant.
Dessert? The lines between sweet and savoury continued to blur, only this time it was a triumphant return to form. Feijoa, cumin and lightly torched, soft Italian meringue was one of the most thought-provoking desserts I've eaten. Alma, on a plate.
Alma, 130 Quay St, Britomart. Ph (09) 242 1570. We spent: $460 for four.
Alma Drinks List
The Dutch invented gin and the British began the tradition of adding tonic, but 'twas the Spaniards who perfected the art of using gorgeous garnishes and serving it in enormous, ice-filled wine goblets.
Spain consumes the most gin per capita in the world and, while you may consider yourself a tad flash at mixing a G&T, there is nowhere on the planet that does a better one than a Spanish bar. Alma has Spanish style. Alma has a "gin menu". Nineteen of the best New Zealand has to offer (helpfully grouped by "region") and premium gins from Larios in Malaga, Maros in Barcelona and Lola y Vera from Madrid.
The beer menu is compact and features brews from Emerson's, Urbanaut and Citizen alongside Moritz from Spain. There's also a hefty amount of vermouth styles from Padro i Familia and, as expected, a tonne of sherries.
The good folk in charge of the list have kept to theme classifying wines into Cava (fizz), Blanco (white), Rosado (rosé) and Tinto (red) categories, and I love that while the majority of the wines are from across all Spain's major regions, they've happily included local producers who are growing great Spanish grapes too. So Nautilus Marlborough albarino is featured alongside tempranillo-based wines from Black Barn, Smith & Sheth, Elephant Hill and Dry River.
Almost all are available by the glass, too. That's a superb way to explore, without going offshore. Buen trabajo, Alma!
