Text 23377, 68 rader
Skriven 2007-11-25 11:08:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: txgvg dinner 468
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So we were wandering around Christchurch (the "most English
city in New Zealand," and they're proud of that) wondering
where to eat, and Carol remembered an ad for a place that
had a "1 kg challenge" and immediately thought of me. It was
just a few blocks from our hotel, so off we went. The menu
didn't look all that exciting, so we went round the block
to see what was what: nothing seemed suitable, so we went
back. The genial host seated us (somewhat underdressed, and
he'd seen us look at the menu before our tour) at the very
back in what he must have thought the worst table in the
house, near the meat cases.

The menu was okay, but what the heck, I'd never had South
Island Black Angus steak before, so there we sat.

There was no 1 kg challenge on the menu, and anyhow I wasn't
that hungry, so we let sleeping cows lie.

It was a mixed experience. Very quiet, mostly, as we were
way away from everyone else, but the service was similarly
abstracted, so the host ended up being our waiter for most
of the meal. We didn't disappoint him too much, and he
didn't disappoint us too much.

We went right to the main event, Carol having her carpetbag
steak medium-rare and I my T-bone blue. The guy asked me if
I wanted cold blue or warm blue, and I opted for the latter.
Carol nodded approvingly, saying that these guys might know
what they were doing.

They did, pretty much. Carol's 300g filet was perfect and 
surprisingly tasty, two very nice oysters stuffed into a cavity
cut for the purpose: she ate the one on top (just barely firm)
and gave me the one tucked down inside (quite raw, quite yummy).

My 500g steak came about 650g - 500g not including bone - and
was in fact warm blue. It was a porterhouse rather than a T-bone
(the menu also lists a porterhouse). It was also somewhat
underflavored, a big surprise. I decided that it had been cooked
on a metal surface rather than a proper grill. But it was done right.

We had a bottle of Kim Crawford Merlot 05, with peppers and
red cherries, a decent wine albeit a New Zealand one (I'm in
Australia as I type so can't get in too much trouble).

Nothing on the dessert list appealed, so we went down the way
to the Honey Pot, a sort of hippie restaurant where we'd had
breakfast before. Carol had liked the sound of the pumpkin maple
pie, and it was after all Thanksgiving night. So we came back
for that. It was pretty good, more a quiche than what we know
as pumpkin pie, and with yogurt all round and some maple syrup
drizzled over. Not my style, but it made her happy and satisfied
our holiday obligations. I ordered a Parfait Amour, which totally
foxed the waitress, who eventually found the stuff and asked if
I wanted a double shot in a glass, and I said okay. What came: a
scant single. I called her on this, and so she brought the
measuring thing over - it was one of these 1/2 oz on one side and
1 oz on the other ones, and she said, well, I poured the bigger one.
I told her that in My Country both combined counted as a single, but
whatever. When time came to pay up, she typed some arcane nonsense
into the register and came up with 6.50, a fair price I thought.
Parfait Amour, by the way, is a liqueur of vanilla and flowers,
sometimes (and I hoped in vain) almond as well. The reason I ordered
it - it's an accent for some arcane cocktails and is almost never
drunk by itself - is that it's blue.
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