The French Cafe, Symonds Street

By EWAN McDONALD for viva

We ate - and by now your Pretension Alert Indicator should be in fully active mode - in a French cafe a week or so ago.

It was in Paris, just off the Place St Michel, in a restaurant that feels like the set for a wartime movie, where you walk in past the kitchen - "Bonjour" from the chefs - into higgledy-piggledy rooms where they have to lift the narrow table so you can squeeze yourself on to the bench.

We could barely make out the faded "Allard" signature on the plates; the waiters were middle-aged gentlemen in waistcoats and full aprons, tres serieux. The food was honest, the wine lustrous and the cheese...

We ate in the French Cafe at the weekend. The Auckland one, that is neither French nor a cafe, and bugger the Trades Descriptions Act.

Both dining rooms have been made over, the little back one for the first time in years. The look is inspired simplicity, all white and windowed Ponsonby Villa Zen.

We expected, and had, a dining experience that is a million miles removed from Allard (oh, all right, 21,000km, if you insist on Gallic precision).

We also experienced the difference between the Old World and the New; between tradition and innovation; between two kinds of service, each of which fits its surroundings; and a shared respect for food and wine.

Didier Remay and his colleagues in Rue St Andre des Arts would never contemplate interfering with the navarin of lamb, the cote du boeuf, and the roast wild duck that have fuelled the bourgeoisie of Paris for 60 years or more.

Simon Wright has always described his food as "contemporary European cuisine," and this consummate technician worked within the 80s British enfants terribles style of his mentors, Marco Pierre White and Gordon Ramsay, for his first semesters at the French Cafe kitchens, five years ago.

Now, perhaps emboldened by his 2003 Lewisham Award as outstanding chef, the 38-year-old is cooking with more confidence than ever.

Rather like the Karl Maughan floral paintings at either end of his dining room, Wright has blossomed. His menus still change with the month, and he never offers more than a focused half-dozen entrees and mains.

He shows a sense of humour: green pea soup, studded with mushrooms, sprinkled with porcini powder, foamed, served in a demi-tasse and called a cappuccino.

Superlative mozzarella arrives with poached tamarillo and orange salad, beetroot, a trail of walnut vinaigrette.

It's a gorgeous overture to the full noise: dishes a ravioli of slow-cooked duck and foie gras with our old friends, wild mushroom and porcini in the creamed sauce; or roast duckling (a Wright signature) with kumara mash, vivid green steamed bok choy, quince jus.

How expertly cooked is this symphony? Here's a clue: at no time will the relaxed, knowledgeable, black-uniformed staff hover about the table with one of those grotesque grinders and ask, "Would you like some pepper, sir?" Simply won't need it.

Wright's tasting menu of eight smaller plates is a good way to eat. It allows the chef to strut his stuff and his sommelier/maitre d'/co-owner/wife, Creghan Molloy Wright, to sashay hers.

She pleases with her first choice, a sauternes to partner foie gras parfait with apple caramel and feijoa relish, then tours the great French terroirs (pinot gris, chardonnay, burgundy).

There's a wave to the locals, a Martinborough Te Tera Pinot Noir 2002, around ravioli time. Maybe there is a little bit of Francais about the French Cafe. And I think I heard Stephane Grappelli.

The French Cafe is possibly the only restaurant in the city where you may have to book up to a week before you want to go, and almost certainly the only one that runs a waiting list. Just like Jamie Oliver's Fifteen. But that's another anecdote for another time.

Open Lunch Tue-Fri, Dinner Tue-Sat


Owners: Simon and Creghan Molloy Wright

Chef: Simon Wright

Maitre d': Creghan Molloy Wright


Food: Contemporary European cuisine

On the menu: Roasted crayfish tail with cauliflower puree, almond foam, baby cress and mandarin oil $22


Ballontine of braised oxtail with red wine, spinach, pomme puree and caramelised vegetables $32


Creme brulee with vanilla poached apricots, apricot coulis and white chocolate sorbet $15


Vegetarian: Tell your waiter. Better still, mention it when you book


Wine: NZ's best, fine French and Australian choices by Molloy Wright

Music: Where it should be - somewhere in the rafters

Parking: After-hours options nearby

Disabled access/toilets: Excellent

Bottom line: Things are very serious in the kitchen, where Simon Wright conducts a symphony of tastes, flavours, textures.

In the dining rooms it is intimate yet relaxed, as Creghan Molloy Wright's bravura wine matches and her discreet, knowledgeable staff combine to make one of Auckland's finest restaurants.

So, for the first time ever, it gets five stars.

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