Reviewed by EWAN McDONALD for viva
Emily Small isn't a name that comes to mind in the same way as Julia Child, Tui Flower or Stephanie Alexander. She wasn't one of the great cookbook writers or recipe collectors or celebrity chefs.
But consider this: in the 1920s she married a radical who
was not to the liking of her genteel Nelson family. They brought up four children on their orchard until the 1930s Depression forced them to walk away from their home and their livelihood and criss-cross the country in search of employment.
In the camps surrounding big labour projects devised to make work for the jobless, Emily would cook for her family and 30 or more men every morning and night. Without electricity or gas or microwave.
Plain food. Wholesome food. But beautifully, carefully, lovingly cooked. Food using the produce of the region, of the season, food that nurtured, comforted, was enjoyed. It was a talent that she was to pass on to two daughters and a granddaughter, my wife.
This is not to honour a grandmother-in-law I never knew: it is to make another point that feels relevant in today's eating-out world, where fashion, trends, names, brands and style can push the basic point of dining off the agenda, or at least the menu.
Emily Small was not a chef: she was a cook. And though there may be a tablespoon of political incorrectness in writing it, that is a role that is gifted to women.
Women - yes, I am generalising here - tend to cook as an expression of love and nurture for people, even when they are cooking for people they do not know, let alone love.
It may be no coincidence that of viva's five A+ and 10 A-list restaurants in Auckland, published last December, only two list women as their head chefs (Kate Fay at Cibo and Martina Lutz of Number 5). Another magazine's shortlist of 10, published this month, also features two women (Fay and Michelle Johns of Essence).
These thoughts occur because of an evening in Wellington that scores 4.5 ("unique and memorable") and, apart from a few lapses from young and new staff and the crushed seating, would have been our first 5.0 ("as good as it gets").
Maria Pia de Razza-Klein, granddaughter of the Duke of Morciano di Leuca - brought up by her grandmother in Lecce, taught to bake bread to accompany the regional cheeses, to roast vegetables in the olive oil from the family farm, taught by her mother to make pasta, to cook it - emigrated to New Zealand with her husband, Richard Klein, some years ago.
They opened a deli in the suburbs four years ago, and founded the Aotearoa chapter of Slow Food, the worldwide movement that treasures natural food, the sharing of knowledge, the sheer enjoyment of eating and drinking and socialising well.
More recently the couple took over a heritage house near what Paul Holmes calls "the Par-lee-ament" and opened their trattoria. Here, every evening is like a rerun of that evocative movie Big Night. Diners are sardined into what might have been a parlour, a bedroom. Everywhere are happy faces, chatter that dies briefly as new delights emerge from Maria Pia's kitchen.
There is a printed menu and it will always feature fresh pasta and delicate vegetables and gutsy sausages but - remember your hosts' affiliations - the day's special dishes are where the wonders are. Oysters that were likely lolling around in Island Bay that morning; pappardelle with wild rabbit and hare sauce - restaurants up here do a civilised version but this is the rustic, gamey meal that it was refined from; chicken, boned and rolled and stuffed with herbs and vegetables that you'll have to identify - the only help you'll get from the menu is that it's "Maria Pia's grandmother's secret recipe".
Klein, who left New Jersey in the 70s with his backpack and fiddle and has since (you knew this was coming) added several strings to his bow, operates as maitre d' and sommelier. His cellar sings, almost exclusively, in an Italian accent.
Forget labels or vintages, there are grapes and styles here that you will not encounter outside the valley in which they were grown. Let him tell you what to drink with your food, for this is an important ingredient that adds to the integrity of the dish.
Integrity. That is the word that sums up Maria Pia's Trattoria, and you will realise that as the couple drop by to chat at your table, about the wine, about the figs and the tiny home-grown grapes that will mysteriously arrive with the platter of dripping gorgonzola and weeping mozzarella, or about her mother's wedding photo from 1943 on the wall above. Or bring a tiny glass of the digestif containing hundreds of herbs that Maria Pia distils from what is in the garden.
Integrity. And passion.
In many restaurants the waiter brings your plate and says, "Enjoy". Here the cook carries it to your table, smiles and cares that you love to eat her food.
Maria Pia's Trattoria sheets home a difference between Auckland and Wellington restaurants. So many of the capital's best - Roxburgh Bistro and its little sister, Bastille, Citron, Francois, Il Casino, the Michelin-esque Boulcott Street Bistro - are culturally correct. They don't deviate too far from their owners' heritage or predilections. Honourable exceptions are the chic of Logan Brown and Anise, a Cuba St take on Jimmy Lik's working-over of Thai specialties in Sydney.
Auckland's taste is more contemporary, cutting-edge, perhaps. Or as an American critic in town recently put it, "more exuberant and churning". It's not to say that one is right and the other wrong, one is flash and the other boring. Like that match between the Blues and the Hurricanes, it's a draw.
Bottom line: Every evening is like a rerun of the movie Big Night. Diners are sardined into what might have been a parlour, a bedroom of a heritage house to enjoy fresh pasta and delicate vegetables and gutsy meats, rustic Italian delights from Maria Pia de Razza-Klein's kitchen or little-known tastes from Richard Klein's cellar. Integrity, passion and the joy of cooking abound.
Open: Lunch Mon-Fri, Dinner Tues-Sat
Owners: Maria Pia de Razza-Klein, Richard Klein
Head chef: Maria Pia de Razza-Klein
Food: Italian / Slow food
Vegetarian: It goes with the territory
Wine: Rare, precious and beautiful Italian gems
Noise: With the chatter and the laughter, you don't need it
Parking: If you thought inner Auckland was bad ...
Disabled access/toilets: Tricky: narrow path to door, tables jammed every which way
* 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.
Maria Pia's Trattoria, Wellington
Reviewed by EWAN McDONALD for viva
Emily Small isn't a name that comes to mind in the same way as Julia Child, Tui Flower or Stephanie Alexander. She wasn't one of the great cookbook writers or recipe collectors or celebrity chefs.
But consider this: in the 1920s she married a radical who
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