At Meat Fish Wine, one waitperson puts the napkin on your lap, another wipes the table between courses and, of the 330 or so by-the-bottle wine offerings, there are 107 that cost $200 or more and 23 that cost $70 or less.
The fit-out features a ceiling swish of sparkling glasses that will be hell to dust in a few months' time.
There are sexy private dining rooms and the ghost of a pre-1987 advertising executive is pressed against the one way glass of the unisex toilets where you wash your hands at a communal trough. I am joking about the ghost.
Dinner starts with a complimentary scone, which should have been a gateway to dairy, but these ones came with almond butter and watercress gel — too austere in a restaurant that otherwise oozes excess.
My entree, a giant slick of wagyu tongue, was excellently vulgar. It said: "I dare you." Close your eyes and do it, because this is $20 worth of utterly delicious, perfectly grilled, parmesan-sprinkled machismo.
Across the table, a $19 cracked wheat salad (with roasted corn, olives, pears and, allegedly, a date puree) was really just a posh tabbouleh; herb gnocchi ($20) should have been pillowy and by that I mean feather, not memory foam. Accompanying portobello mushrooms had been roasted beyond contempt. They'd stopped asking us about champagne, but were now fixated on a coat draped on a spare chair. On the third inquiry we gave it up to the cloakroom.
"Too much admin to hold on to it," said my weary friend. We ordered a second bottle of wine when we were told we'd finished the first; then cancelled it when the waiter magically wrung two more glasses from our empty bottle.
The "bigger plates" section of the a la carte menu has two price points: $40 for steak or pork belly; $35 for everything else — lamb cutlets, salmon, Yellow Brick Road line-caught fish, etc. Pre-theatre and set menus are also available.
Sarah ordered the kingfish, swayed by the promise of kina butter. It was slightly overcooked, and she had trouble discerning a distinct flavour in the butter. Prawn tortellini was chewy and overly padded with fish, though I could have drunk the glorious accompanying bisque by the cupful (instead, we asked for a spoon).
Chicken was the surprise winner on the night. Tender, moist ballotined leg meat, with a brie and kumara bread pudding and mushroom gravy was pretty decent bistro fare.
Meat Fish Wine saves the best for last. Rice puddings, brulees and pavlovas ($16) are pitched at a certain kind of comfort eater, but come with stylish twists: aerated yoghurts, liquorice purees, homemade nutellas and a truly amazing puff pastry gelato that tasted like an icecream version of the icing layer of a custard square. Lick the plate. You know you want to.
