By EWAN MCDONALD for viva
Post-modern French cuisine. Now there's a mouthful: it seems to invite the impression of a Monet, the intellect of a Sartre, the industry of a Hausmann, the inspiration of a Zidane.
On second thoughts, though, what does it mean? Presumably that we are following a direct line
of descent from Francois Pierre de La Varenne, who developed the first true French sauces, past Marie-Antoine Careme, Auguste Escoffier and Paul Bocuse, with a tip of the toque to Alain Ducasse.
To arrive at Michelle Johns. The Londoner's hotel and restaurant background features stints at some of her home town's better dining spots: the Churchill Hotel, Blakes Hotel, the Halcyon Hotel and the Groucho Club. She was for a time at Bistrot 305 in Remuera, a local favourite that never made the first rank of Auckland's restaurants.
Late in 2001, Johns and her husband, Andrew - who had been at St Arnou, the Ponsonby Rd brewpub with a brief reputation for half-decent French fare - bought Essence on Jervois Rd.
Her style here is an abrupt departure from the Med-fed, fusion-fad, Rim-rampant menus found all over the city. Those for whom penne and risotto and couscous have become comfort food may be taken aback to be offered the heavier sauces, the roasts, the elaborate desserts of a more traditionally grounded chef. For many, probably older, diners it is a pleasure to return to the classics. Perhaps that is why on this night her restaurant is populated, albeit sparsely, with the well-heeled, coiffed and coutured residents of the nearby Northern Slopes.
Johns, however, seeks to move a step past the traditional. The "post-modern" label that is attached to Essence's food seems to refer to the less familiar surroundings that her mille feuille of sweetbreads and wild mushrooms, her pan-roasted venison medallions or her poussin might find themselves in. They are, respectively, served with a pickled chicory salad; wrapped in wild bacon and presented with kumara cake and black cherry sauce; marinated in lime and coriander.
It's just as well that we are having such a lousy summer. To a contemporary Kiwi palate those meals may read like winter fare. She lightens an entree of baked goat's cheese; instead of the usual gooey mess, it's a lighter, crumbly blend, wrapped in soft pancetta. Potato and garlic soup is garnished with a little seared salmon.
Roasted lamb rump seems to owe a little more to Johns' English roots than her French fancies, or am I being fooled by a Yorkshire pud on the side? No, it's crossed the Channel, too. It looks like a brioche and is cross-culturally endowed with Gallic garlic and herbs. And don't be silly, Ewan, you'd never find John Bull encrusting a slab of honest English lamb with toasted cumin and spring onions.
Chef might beg to differ but her pork dish was, to our eyes, classic rather than contemporary or thereafter: the fillet was stuffed with apple and sage and "nestled on cognac and wild mushroom ragout".
That tender language is one of a number of reasons to applaud Johns. She's ardent about her food and their restaurant. She's clearly not a fashion slave. She cooks complex dishes in an open kitchen in front of her patrons night after night. This is a passion, this is obvious. Andrew Johns' touch as maitre d' and sommelier, taking a risk with daring wine matches for each course, adds to the theatre.
So often, though, it's the little touches that let a restaurant down. The bread and dips were pedestrian. The steamed vegetables - broccoli, carrots, you can imagine - tasteless. Quelle horreur: while my tablemates enjoyed gorgeous desserts, chocolate and hazelnut marquise and a warm orange angel cake, the crackers for my cheese platter were stale. The cheeses, supermarket favourites from Kapiti, had not been respected.
Essence is one of the nicer dining rooms around town, the 19th-century brick building trading under the names of Hoffman's, Varick's and Essence over several decades. Great chefs including Ray McVinnie, Varick Neilson and Michael James have enchanted in the kitchen; hard acts to follow.
"Animals fill themselves, people eat. Intelligent people alone know how to eat," wrote the first food critic, Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, in 1828. Of course, he was a Frenchman - even if he wasn't post-modern.
Open
Lunch Wed-Fri, Dinner Mon-Sat
Owners
Andrew and Michelle Johns
Executive chef
Michelle Johns
Food
"Post-modern French cuisine"
On the menu
Baked scallops in filo pastry with oven-dried tomatoes, thyme and scallop roe sauce, $19
Slow roasted duck breast and leg served with honey ginger baked beetroot and game jus, $36
Profiteroles filled with passionfruit mousse drizzled with dark chocolate sauce, $12.50
Vegetarian
Options on menu
Wine
Relatively small and discriminating list, NZ-Aust focus, fair prices
Noise
Classic soul to Coldplay, stopping at all stations in between
Parking
The broad acres of La Rue Jervois
Disabled access/toilets
Excellent
Smoking
Smokefree
Bottom line
Michelle Johns' style, an updating of French traditions, is an abrupt departure from the Med, fusion, Rim menus found all over the city. She's ardent about her food, displaying craft and passion. Sadly, the little touches let the restaurant down.
* 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.
By EWAN MCDONALD for viva
Post-modern French cuisine. Now there's a mouthful: it seems to invite the impression of a Monet, the intellect of a Sartre, the industry of a Hausmann, the inspiration of a Zidane.
On second thoughts, though, what does it mean? Presumably that we are following a direct line
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