Inflate On a Plate

It is on the fourth day of Visa Wellington On a Plate that Lee and I hit the wall. The collision, in which we swell up like balloons, occurs at Plate Restaurant & Bar in the Holiday Inn on Featherston Street.

An international chain hotel is not the likeliest place for lunch, especially when located on a heavy-traffic corner near the railway station and we work near Cuba. However, these are the days of Dine Wellington, and by my reckoning we’re getting a $65 lunch for just $25. Then there’s curiosity: we’ve yet to set foot inside the Holiday Inn, which opened in 2007 and already claims a place in history for its part in the fibbing French rugby player fiasco.

The foyer was pretty flash. Suited staff efficiently whisked us into Plate, on the ground floor. Its black leather banquettes and glam chrome chandeliers looked smart and sexy, which is a nice way to look in broad daylight. Acres of metallic mesh curtains drape from ceiling to floor. A bold and dominant feature, we thought them very successful in creating an upmarket ambience while diffusing the view of the busy road outside.

Plate offers a range of room-service style meals such as burgers and tikka masala, and a marginally modern menu featuring pork belly, forest mushroom risotto, salmon and the lamb shank. The latter formed part of the Dine menu, along with dessert, wine, and coffee/tea. The shank was a big ‘un, propped up on a heap of creamy mashed potato with a little bit of leek and carrot adding colour. It was cooked in the Nana style, patiently braised to collapse into lovely soft chunks, but sticking steadfastly to its intrinsic ovine flavour. Enjoyable but somewhat relentless in taste and texture, we turned to our heavenly glass of Julicher Estate 99 Rows Pinot Noir to get us to the finish.

Just when you need peppermint tea, you get a dense square of bread & butter pudding with toffee sauce and vanilla ice cream. Of course I didn’t have to finish it, but as it had the caramel chew of the French canelé, the spoon just keep on moving. Across the table, Lee’s plate was empty. ‘I feel like I’ve done something naughty,’ he said.

A gurney was wheeled in, and we were rolled off the premises.