KEY POINTS:
HERALD ON SUNDAY RATING: * * * * *
Merediths
365 Dominion Rd
Mt Eden
Ph: 623 3140
Somebody calls you the day before you're due to dine at Merediths, the way the dentist's receptionist does, to remind you of your appointment. Fair enough. They only have 28 seats and a no-show makes a big dent in the bottom line.
As it happens, the Blonde and I would not have forgotten because we had left notes all around the house and diaried it, electronically and the old-fashioned way. Having had to wait weeks for a prime-time table, we were looking forward to trying the new eponymous venture by Michael Meredith, formerly of Vinnie's and The Grove.
Looking forward to dining out is the triumph of hope over experience. Believe it or not - and I am sure there are restaurateurs around town who don't - I am not trying to be unimpressed when I eat out. I am surprised at just how many businesses try to be unimpressive, but, each time I sit down and open a menu, I am expecting to enjoy myself at least as much as I do at the dentist.
So it bears saying straight away: I cannot recall a meal I have enjoyed more than this and there are very few I've had anywhere that were even half as good.
What makes it more remarkable is that bill: barely $180, even with four glasses of excellent wine - including a $17 glass of the big-breasted '05 Envoy chardonnay with the pork, a waitress's recommendation that was right on the button. If we had had two desserts instead of an abstemious one, we would have still not broken $200. I've paid that much for food I've pushed to the side of the plate (so a waiter, unblinking, could whirl past and say, "Can I take that for you?" as though everything was all right).
This was an evening of culinary mastery and gastronomic delight, full of improbable ideas that worked spectacularly well: one entree was melt-in-the-mouth beetroot gnocchi on a platform of grilled haloumi with big, fat golden raisins; the other an onion tart topped with heartbreakingly tender calamari, barely curled by the heat that had kissed them, and paired with a very mild chorizo. Each built its tastes vertically, from solid at the bottom to light-as-air on top: thus the diner becomes the dish's co-creator by choosing which strata to combine.
To the mains: everyone does pork belly, but no one thinks to flank the slow-roasted, pull-apart square of crackling-topped meat with two cylinders of fillet, poached pink and sweet. A pea and rosemary puree lapped at the edges. The Blonde had a generous couple of fillets from a snapper that had been swimming that morning, atop a ragout of eggplant and chickpea. She rolled her eyes and moaned a lot. A Valrhona chocolate mousse balanced with gritty crushed passionfruit ice made the perfect finish.
Small quibbles: a breathless waitress tended to pounce, particularly when it came to offering more wine, and the delicious, fresh-baked bread rolls were finger-searingly hot. I also can't see under what circumstances Merediths could do without an apostrophe, but since there are only 17 people in the world who care about apostrophes any more, I guess I'll let that slide.
It may take you weeks to get a table at Merediths too. But believe me, it is worth the wait.
Exceptional.
Wine list: Brief and interesting.
Vegetarians: Three dishes, as entrees or mains.
Watch out for: The unmarked entrance.
Sound check: Conversation-friendly.
Bottom line: A slice of heaven.
- Detours, HoS
