Herald rating: * * * *
Address: 5 City Rd, Auckland
Ph: (09) 309 9273
Wine list: Marvellous
Vegetarians: An entree and a main
Watch out for: The views
Bottom line: Down-to-earth fine dining.
Having put up with each other for another year, the Blonde and I were in self-congratulatory mood. I could have sworn I heard her mutter something about a triumph of pigheadedness over good sense, but when I asked her what she'd said, she smiled sweetly and said: "I hope you're taking me somewhere nice for dinner for our anniversary." I was, as it turned out.
The last time I went to eat at this Auckland institution, I couldn't get in. I mean this literally: the door was locked and a sign asked me to ring the bell. It was meant to be charming, but I found it as intimidating as hell. Likewise the menus, which had the prices written in full - so "twenty-six dollars" - in cursive script. I half-expected a line saying "Are you quite sure you are supposed to be here?"
The best fine-dining restaurants make the customer feel at home and in those days Number 5 seemed to make a point of not doing so. But, several changes of ownership later, they have nailed it. They boast a distinguished list of former guests, including Princess Anne and Burt Bacharach, but they make us simple folks feel very welcome too.
Owner Martina Lutz used to have Merlot and still has the Wine Chambers in Shortland St and the excellent, unpretentious bistro Wine and Roses in Takapuna. As the names suggest, these are places that regard eating partly as an excuse to drink good wine. At Number 5 they are true to that philosophy, offering an excellent list and a couple of daily "sommelier's surprises" - something special, that is not ordinarily offered by the glass.
The restaurant occupies a handsome brick house that was once home to the manager at Partington's Mill, which dominates the skyline in so many Victorian-era photographs. The room divisions give it an intimate feel, but there are fine views, of both the city valley and the cramped domestic lives in nearby apartments.
The Blonde caught me idly watching a young woman getting dressed in her uncurtained room and observed - more forcefully than was strictly necessary, I thought - that this was a) behaviour ill-befitting a devoted husband on his wedding anniversary and b) pathetic.
The waitress, who did a fine job of keeping the open fire burning merrily, was relaxed and good-humoured, advising that "we do take the feathers off" the duck, and offering us a generous taste of the evening's feature wine, a delicate but slightly spicy 2007 Clayridge pinot blanc. (It worked: we ordered a full pour.)
As to the food, it worked a treat, too. Head chef Michael Greenbaum and his team turn out dishes that are skilful but unshowy, and still make a hearty meal on a dastardly winter's night. We shared an entree plate - three of the four choices - and were most impressed by the loose-leafed butternut tortellini and a juicy rabbit-and-prune terrine.
I then went for the duck which, steamed and then roasted, was magnificently crisp and unfatty. The Blonde's salmon was as soft as cream.
The sole jarring note was the speed with which dessert was offered - and immediately offered again by someone else.
We finally chose a plum tart that we had been told would be warm: it wasn't, and neither was it particularly impressive. But this was a small blemish in an excellent evening. This is fine dining without airs and graces, and that's increasingly hard to find.
