Estasi, Ponsonby

The braised rabbit rests on a bed of minted pomme and pea puree. Picture / Carolyn Robertson

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I left a message to make a booking at Estasi but nobody called back. When I phoned the next day to attempt, again, to make a booking the guy said: "Oh, you're already booked." I said: "I left a message and nobody called back," and he said, in an voice which sounded worryingly like Manuel's from Fawlty Towers: "Okay, okay, no worries."

When somebody says "no worries" you do tend to worry a bit. Estasi's menu worried me a bit, too.

It is one of those menus the size of the phone-book of a small town. To be charitable, you could say that it caters to every taste if you consider that a menu which offers an oriental duck and a butter chicken curry caters to every taste. I just worry that the kitchen's having a bet several ways.

It's a bit like those sad, struggling kebab joints which also offer Asian stir-fry dishes alongside "Western" style hamburgers. You think, and you'd almost always be right, that they don't manage to do any of the cuisines well.

"Estasi = Ecstacy" the front of the small-town-phone-book-menu says. We were not feeing exactly ecstatic when our shared entree of chargrilled calamari and prawns with roasted red onions and chilli lemon dressing arrived. This was dull. I'd also ordered some "garlic-infused pizza bread." I'm not quite sure how you "infuse" bread with garlic but it was very good garlic pizza bread. That was as good as it got.

What a funny place Estasi is. It sits in a prime spot on Ponsonby Rd and it is a big, clean room which appears to have been decorated from a deceased estate sale, the deceased having been collectors of what might kindly be called eclectic knick-knackery.

Our table was by a fireplace on the mantle of which was a glass "Greek" statue of some bloke, sans fig leaf, who appeared to be giving us the finger, the figure framed by two tulips with blue glass petals and stainless-steel leaves and stems. Alongside these, an array of drunken tea-light candles. Well, you don't get that sort of look everywhere.

Estasi is a casual joint. There were big tables of happy people eating, drinking and texting. The service is pretty good. Our waiter said, when I asked where my rabbit's head was, "Oh, did you want the head?" When I said, no, I didn't, I was just making a bad joke, sorry, he very nicely said that the customer was always right. I had the feeling he would have got the damn head for me if I had so insisted.

And there is the lovely maitre'd-manager man who used to work at the Wine Loft, which is where he recognised the Televison Critic from. He is really charming and a real asset so I felt terrible when he said, "We'll see you again," and I had to be honest. Because no, I'm afraid they won't see us again.

This is why: the crap joke I made about the rabbit was made because I was so taken aback by the look of the thing there seemed to be no other response. It arrived in a long, unattractive slab, with charred bits on the ends of what were once little rabbit legs.

It seemed to be the whole rabbit, missing, of course, only its head and tail. There was, no matter which way I turned my plate, no way to tackle the thing, which appeared to be suffering from an advanced case of rigor mortis. The minted pomme and pea puree which proved the tough old bunny's final resting place was sloppy and salty and the baby carrots were flabby. The TC's kangaroo was a little more bouncy. It had been, the phonebook told us, "flamed in cabernet and soya, served on couscous and juniper jus." Cabernet and soya? Couscous and juniper jus? Not even an Aussie deserves such treatment.

We didn't eat much of any of this and we just couldn't face pud. There was a salad which looked as though it had been dead longer than the bunny. It was chilled and had obviously been taken straight from the fridge.

It was all profoundly depressing. When I got home I had another look at the menu and noticed the pizza selection.

There is one which features chicken and banana and cashews and coriander. I don't think there is anything left to say.

Address: 222 Ponsonby Rd
Ph: 361 3222
Open: 7 days lunch and dinner
From the menu: Romesco greenshell mussels flamed in chardonnay with garlic, Italian parsley in a basil tomato sauce, $14.50; chargrilled prime eye fillet of beef with porcini polenta and confit shallots with a cep oil and mushroom sauce, $25.90; Tiramisu, $11.90
Vegetarian: Includes garden gourmet pizza and harissa salad
Wine list: Adequate
Bottom line: Mad decor, madder menu, good staff, bad food