Pasha, Waterfront

Pasha's executive chef Simon Gault with the "perfectly simple" fried gorgonzola with polenta entree. Picture / Carolyn Robertson

Herald rating: * * * * 1/2

Pasha is, I think, the perfect winter-time restaurant. Especially if you choose to eat inside. And we were offered the choice - which sounds dotty at this time of the year - but they have created a snug balcony looking out on the water, with the aid of big gas heaters.

But we were not quite that brave so we ate inside, which means eating inside a red velvet and brass cocoon. There are sparkling candles and big brass lanterns and curtains made out of brass links, and it is all very warm and welcoming. They really need to do something about those red velvet cushions lining the banquettes, though. Even in the candlelight you can see that they have seen better days. And whoever designed them must be some sort of seating sadist: the cushions meet, and unevenly, right where you have to park your bum.

Right. That out of the way, it's a long time since we had such a good night at a restaurant. Pasha is bloody dear but I'd rather pay a lot of dosh for a very good meal than a medium amount of dosh for near inedible nosh - which happens far more often than it should.

We had a lovely waitress who really knew her stuff and said, no, she really didn't think we wanted to have the entree of shrimp fritter, cheese fritter and chorizo corn dog. Not unless we wanted to eat a load of fried stuff. I'm sure she was right. So I had fried cheese instead: gorgonzola with a little triangle of polenta, some rocket, red onion and a few slices of orange. This was a perfectly simple, perfectly executed little bowl of food, which made me very happy. The bloke, moaning about missing the rugby, had the chorizo in red wine. That shut him up.

We'd ordered some rocket with our mains but we both had rocket on our entrees so we asked the wait woman whether we could have some other green stuff instead. The vegetable of the day was eggplant in polenta and we didn't fancy that. She said she'd see what she could do and when our mains arrived, so did a little bowl of grilled courgettes. That was a nice touch. As was the deft hand with which she replaced our spent candle: so deft I didn't see her do it.

There is a sort of magic at work at Pasha, which is obviously the point of the red velvet and brass. But in the kitchen where Simon Gault is supposed to be toiling, there is also some very classy sleight of hand going on.

I had a duck leg in honey and citrus with an olive oil bread mash. This was comfort food of a very superior kind. It's amazing, the waitress said, the way it's made. She's right: bread and oil whisked to create something as velvety as the cushions. He had a lovely lamb shank on couscous. There was no more moaning about missing the rugby.

These are not huge portions, but they are hugely rich portions. That duck, deceptively plain, was one the richest little portions of duck I think I've ever eaten. So we shared a pud, a curious thing called a Portuguese yolk cake and which looks, as the bloke said "like a meat patty". And, I added, covered in something green a cow might have thrown up in the unlikely event it had been eating kiwifruit couli.

It really is the most ghastly looking thing and it takes a brave restaurateur to serve it. But this cake rewards the eating (just shut your eyes and dig in). The texture is something like a Christmas pud, but it is served cold. I couldn't figure out what the spice was - there was a lingering, faintly peppery bite - so that wonderful waitress went to the kitchen and asked. She came back to say that there were no spices, the thing was concocted from egg yolk and sugar. So that makes it health food in my book.

Later, I went over to another table to thank the colleague who had shouted us a couple of glasses of very good dessert wine. I had bossed him into this earlier in the day when I saw him in the office.

He was sitting with a geezer called Simon so I said: "And where do you work, Simon?" "Oh, around the traps," he said. This was Gault, of course. And of course he wasn't slaving in the kitchen.

We then proceeded to have an amicable argument about whether or not there was cinnamon in the pud. He said there was, but what would he know?

And before you all write in to say we must have been given preferential treatment because we know Gault, we don't know him at all. And he arrived at his table as we were about to begin pud, long after the courgettes.

Address: Shed 22, Princes Wharf
Ph: 355 0077
Executive chef: Simon Gault
From the menu: Salad Nicoise $17.50; Egyptian spiced salmon in prosciutto jacket on duet of barley and lentils with coriander yoghurt, $28. 50; Strawberry cheesecake made with sheep's milk, $12.50.
Vegetarian: They can get their own fried gorgonzola
Wine: A good, interesting selection by the glass and ditto by the bottle
Bottom line: Bright staff who are really interested in what they're serving - beautifully thought-out, top-quality food cooked by people who really know what they're doing 


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