Chandelier, Ponsonby

By EWAN McDONALD for viva

Cheeky little red. Now there's a phrase that hasn't inserted itself into a discussion of restaurants since oh, since Marcella Hazan pointed out that the Bolognese never serve their famous meat sauce on top of spaghetti, more than 20 years ago.

But "cheeky little red" has to be the only way to describe a wine that is offered for $117.50 when the supermarket down the road can offer it for $60 and still make a profit.

Aha, you say, but it's the ambience and the food and the company and the service. And the ambience and the food at Chandelier are, for the most part, fine. But that's still a heck of a lot for corkage.

Yes, we are back at Chandelier, now a little more than a year past an extravagant opening. Then, Viva gave it four stars and reckoned if some quirks about the service, the seating preferences and the disdain for folk who weren't recognisable celebrities were improved, it might well improve on that score. Well, Marcel Lleyesdorff's food has changed and, we think, improved; but those quirks are still in evidence.

Quick recap: Chandelier, next to SPQR in Ponsonby Rd, owned by the same folk, Chris Rupe and Paula Macks (and my, hasn't their profile lifted since Chandelier began hosting frequently photographed parties). Chef Lleyesdorff moved from Wellington to open the fun, short-lived but rather tasty Cinema Schminema (next to the Town Hall, played black-and-white movies on the back wall).

Food, Italian classics with heavy sauces. Clientele, young, self-absorbed and black, they all wore black. Not sure if Prince Albert did when he visited during the America's Cup, but we'll run with the idea, okay?

The seating business hasn't changed. You book a couple of days out, are ushered through the heavy brocade curtains, and find your similarly middle-aged friends at a banquette, submerged in plush cushions several centimetres below your eye-level in a manner that the Viet Cong used to recommend when interrogating prisoners.

The four of you are at two marble-topped bistro tables jammed together that you know will be too small when the cutlery, water glasses, wine glasses, napery, condiments and large candle are in place - and well before any food arrives. You are sitting in an alleyway.

And you wonder why you are sacrificing your sacroiliac when those nice, comfortable, roomy booths next to you are empty. And will remain so all evening. And whether the waitress is being concerned or sarcastic when she says, "I can bring a torch", as you're trying to read the menu.

The food has lightened up, retaining its classical leanings with a Kiwi tang. Ann was ecstatic over her juicy paua and grilled scampi tails, but she's an honorary Ngapuhi and even Don Brash can't take the Hokianga out of the girl. Stephanie was enthusiastic about her scallops, flamegrilled with a splash of Pernod on asparagus risotto and a morel jus. Dick appreciated the presentation of his bouillabaisse - the shellfish in a dish, stock poured over from a copper saucepan, rouille and gruyere added from the side - but his appreciation would have increased if it'd been warm.

I've never been disappointed in anything that Lleyesdorff has cooked and I wasn't about to break the record with subtly poached leg and delicately pan-roasted breast of poussin with - ooh, the man does add some lovely touches, imagine these flavours - porcini glaze, baby spinach and sweetcorn chardonnay all blended into an emulsion.

While Vahlrona chocolate fondant, pistachio icecream, affogato and vanilla-bean gelato were disappearing from the other side of the table(s) at a rate that the late Dr Atkins would have applauded, Dick and I were conducting a serious interrogation of rather fine cheeses: stilton, taleggio, pont l'eveque, gorgonzola. We were prepared to essay the proposition that these were among the finest examples of the species that we'd enjoyed in an Auckland restaurant.

About this time Stephanie suggested that the waitresses had been chosen for their looks and figures but Dick and I were far too absorbed in our cheese to notice. We thought that they were slightly gauche and not particularly well-informed about the food or wine, which is a worry in a place where the wine is offered at the prices mentioned in the first couple of paragraphs and the food is rather special.

Which is why, one year on, we come up with much the same verdict on Chandelier. Great food. Lovely decor. But the dodgy service, seating and those insouciant prices prevent it from being a five-star experience.

Open: 7 days from 5pm

Owners: Chris Rupe, Paula Macks

Chef: Marcel Lleyesdorff

Food: Italian with a Kiwi tang

On the menu: Grilled foie gras on toasted brioche with pear and saffron compote and caramel sauternes glaze $19.50; grainfed beef eye-fillet on a saute of wild mushrooms, wholegrain mustard bearnaise and sticky pinot jus $33.50; honey-glazed white peach with raspberries, white pepper custard and sauternes jelly $14.50

Vegetarian: Options on menu

Smoking: Bar area, away from diners

Wine: Lip-smacking list but you will pay dearly

Parking: It's Ponsonby. You can really upset the locals by waiting until the commuters drive away then snaffling the spots outside their no-osp villas

Disabled access / toilets: street level entry, reasonable aisle, excellent facilities

Bottom line: Love the gorgeously rococo room, adore Marcel Lleyesdorff's occasionally baroque food, not quite as sold on the seating arrangements, the service and the prices. Just over a year after opening, Ponsonby's maximalist restaurant still leaves a little to be desired.

* Read more about what's happening in the world of food, wine, fashion and beauty in viva, part of your Herald print edition every Wednesday.