KEY POINTS:
You may have heard of Wellington: down there, windy, hilly, full of civil servants with square glasses. The editor's brief was vague, roughly around the theme of "Wellington luxury" - which is a bit of an awkward mandate given the economic times. And what is luxury, anyway, Wellington
style?
After a bit of research, I concluded it would be best to go to Wellington to eat. I'll now make one of those bold, completely unproveable generalisations: Wellington does "dining out" better than any other of our centres. This highly informed opinion was developed over a couple of days, most of which was spent eating the kind of food that exceeded my litmus test of what constitutes really good food; you couldn't possibly make it at home with your dog-eared Best of Annabel Langbein.
Take the dinner at Citron, which was the kind of meal that, cerebrum willing, I'll remember for ever. The restaurant is in a two-storey, former settler's cottage that has been painted yellow and is located at the wrong end of Willis St, but it's what's inside that counts.
Here, you can dine either from an a la carte menu or surrender to the degustation menu, which involves a perfectly orchestrated sequence of small but astonishing dishes. We had nine of them, although you can order the five-course degustation or, if you're game, you can order 15. It all began with an "amuse bouche" - to "amuse the mouth" - which involved slivers of beef that, aged for 21 days, were as tender as the night.
What followed was a series of subtly contrasting textures and flavours, the crispy with the creamy, the sour with the sweet: clams, scallops and tuatua in a chilli-scented sauce; aged rack of lamb with smoked pickled apricot; a white chocolate praline parfait with orange blossom pannacotta and passionfruit pearls. I've no idea how chef Rex Morgan manages to coax fresh passionfruit into pearls, but everyone should try them once.
Perhaps the most unforgettable was the grape-sized ball of gewurztraminer sorbet balanced on a small cube of pink peppercorn marshmallow, sitting in a pool of dainty slices of marinated strawberries topped with elderflower foam.
Really. If this sounds like I'm describing a series of conceptual art installations, in many ways they were, only far more palatable. I'm not one for the "degustatory journey" descriptor, but I can't think of anything better. Everything arrived in an order clearly directed by someone with a profound understanding of the way our senses work - the tiny pumpkin soup served in a demi-tasse cup warmed us up for the chicken and lamb dishes, the lemonade granita calmed us down when everything was getting too much.
Then there were the wine matches - local and international wines I'd never heard of served by a charming sommelier who kept up a lively commentary on the food, the wines and wine-industry gossip. It all took four and a half hours. It was $130 for the meal, without the wine. Still, it's the kind of meal that puts you off spending money on anything less, which would ultimately result in savings. And while it might be almost twice the price of a very average night out, it's 20 times better.
A couple of friends decided to go there just before one of them was going overseas, the idea being that if something happened to one of them, dinner at Citron would be their last supper together. There are other places that convinced me Wellington has more excellent restaurants per capita than anywhere else.
Everyone is still talking about Martin Bosley's - Cuisine's 2007 Restaurant of the Year - and the Matterhorn, this year's Restaurant of the Year. There's also Logan Brown.
While Citron is subdued and cosy and seats only 30, Logan Brown seats 80 and is more exuberant. It's set in a renovated 1920s banking chamber, with high pressed ceilings and polished floors. Somehow the arrangement of the tables means that diners still have plenty of privacy.
In fact, there's so much space between tables that if you do end up waving your fork around out of enthusiasm for the lightly sauteed whitebait, you won't trip up a passing waiter or poke your neighbour in the eye. I'd also recommend the paua ravioli, which is light as rice-paper and sets an excellent benchmark for what ravioli should be, but hardly ever is.
Other places sampled and recommended: Cafe L'Affare in College St for coffee and breakfast; Floriditas in Cuba St, for coffee, breakfast, lunch or dinner; Schoc Chocolaterie and Espresso Bar for hot chocolate flavoured with Earl Grey or, if you prefer, chilli. The chocolaterie at the back sells strange and exquisite chocolates, flavoured with the likes of geranium, strawberry and black pepper, sweet basil, lime chilli or even rock salt.
Almost every time I'd previously visited Wellington I spent most of it rushing from one building to another with my head down under an inverted umbrella. This time, unusually, the skies were clear and the day was warm. On the Sunday, feeling stout (and slightly sick), I went for a long ramble around the waterfront.
Aucklanders - this one, anyway - tend to be cynical when councillors start harping on about their plans for developing a waterfront for "mixed use". In Auckland, so far, this has meant getting property developers to build apartments, restaurants and wine bars, which tend to attract the flash and young women with unnaturally straight hair.
Wellington's waterfront, which now extends from the city square to beyond Te Papa, has been developed with a more democratic impulse. This is evident in the people who go there; teenagers on skateboards, middle-aged people on roller blades, women of all shapes and sizes on bikes, babies in prams, loads of walkers, who have come here to walk around the waterfront, rather than to a restaurant. Like any good walk, there are plenty of surprises to keep walkers entertained.
On Sunday there's a farmers' market selling fruit and vegetables. Fish is sold fresh off boats. There are native plantings everywhere, now beginning to flourish and many sculptures along the way, some of which are built into the walk. The sight that confronts you when you walk up the steps from city square, past Neil Dawson's suspended Ferns and over Para Matchitt's City to Sea Bridge (made of taniwhas and giant birds carved in wood) and out toward the harbour, is particularly striking.
Retrace your steps and do it again. If there's no one about, do it again. There's also the Writers' Walk - basically a series of quotes from Wellington writers (and writers writing on Wellington) - which have been set in concrete by typographer Catherine Griffith and installed in unexpected places, such as under the water or the top of a public bench.
Auckland writer Karl Stead has quipped that the Writers' Walk is a manifestation of "Wellington pedestrian" which is a good pun but I suspect he's jealous. It would never happen in Auckland.
Wellington's waterfront offers a blueprint of what "mixed use" actually looks like, one that encourages the city's ratepayers to revel in the city's landscape, its built environment and its culture. This is distinct from a development aimed at getting ratepayers to spend money in expensive restaurants. Not that I've got anything against spending money in fine restaurants, but as there won't be that much extra cash rolling around this year I'd recommend saving for the best. Which - galling for an Aucklander to admit - is most likely to be in Wellington.
Diary
Citronwww.menus.co.nz/citron
Logan Brown www.loganbrown.co.nz
Cafe L'affare www.laffare.co.nz
Floriditas www.floriditas.co.nz
Schoc www.chocolatetherapy.com
Air New Zealand www.airnewzealand.co.nz
For more information see Positively Wellington Tourism's website at www.wellingtonnz.com, or contact the Wellington i-SITE Visitor Centre Civic Square, Corner Victoria and Wakefield Streets, (04) 802 4860 or 0800 933 53 63
Margo White's enjoyment of Wellington's cuisine and waterfront was helped by Air New Zealand and the Museum Hotel.
