The Price of Bread

‘There are going to be riots’. So said an Australian restaurant critic last month, conjuring up the scene when Rugby World Cup visitors encounter the price of bread at New Zealand restaurants. Riots? Over bread? Should we ready the tear gas, the French batons? Perhaps not. The unflappable Simon Gault responded with a claim that his restaurants’ bread is worth every cent: ‘I’m not in the business of giving away free stuff, I’m in the business of selling good stuff.’

 

The owners of Mt Victoria’s Ambeli – which recently won two Cuisine restaurant awards – would no doubt agree. Their bread is $9. I could make a dozen loaves in my bread maker for that money, although none would give me the pleasure of last Saturday. We were presented with an array of five – focaccia, baguette, a seedy roll, stout sourdough, and squid-ink grissini – served with ample butter and good olive oil. Between two of us it was more than enough to soak up the aperitif and mop up the starter juices. Was it worth $9? You betcha! And we got a bonus: Shae Moleta (Cuisine’s ‘restaurant personality of the year’) offered to share with us the secret of Ambeli’s bread bug.

I washed this yummy bread down with a ‘Gipsy gin’, an Ambeli invention involving a slug of sherry. This got me in a mood quite in keeping with the rich burgundy interior with its rustic floral arrangements and the Balkan-folk band, Beirut, smokin’ through the pipes. Lee enjoyed a glass of Fromm Spätlese, a refreshing late-harvest Riesling from Marlborough. These Ambelians sure know their drinks. The beer list presents some of the cream of current craft brewing (Crouchers, 8 Wired, Twisted Hop…), and while their wine list was pricey you couldn’t complain about their selection.

Our starters were cracking. For me, the now-famous potato pancake ($19), a layered, plate-sized crispy chip topped with capers, anchovies, pecorino cheese and dressed rocket. For Lee, fresh chorizo made by Mariano of Christchurch, ‘flamed’ in sherry with butter beans, red peppers and parsley oil ($17). The porcine, paprika-flavoured sausage was sublime (try it yourself, via Moore Wilson), and every ounce of sauce was cleaned from the plate with our invaluable bread.

The six main courses (all $36 except for the veggie option at $30) covered all bases: lamb, beef, fish, duck, chicken and chickpeas. I had the pan-fried line-caught snapper with fennel puree, tapenade and lemon oil. It looked fantastic, and tasted pretty good, although the fish was a tad dry and over-seasoned, compounded by the salty tapenade. Lee’s duck came en galette, the super-soft, slow-cooked meat enveloped in a buckwheat pancake and accompanied by cavolo nero and spiced tamarillo relish. It was the relish that made the dish. The best of two sides was a mighty portion of crispy rosemary potatoes ($7.50), while the couscousaki salad – tiny pasta balls, with spinach, feta and lemon ($8.50), was uncomplementary in both temperature (cool) and spawn-like texture.

We rounded things off with a perfect cup of Supreme and ‘tartufi’, a trio of truffles ($9.50) – hazelnut, almond & raisin, and – my favourite – white chocolate & vanilla. Positively velveteen and triumphal in flavour, they were also the smoothest, most spherical truffles I’ve ever seen.

With the reservations book at full to bursting, we had to plan well ahead for our Saturday dinner at Ambeli. No wonder. While there was the odd flaw in the food, we felt the kitchen demonstrated solid skills in an unflashy way. The service was fantastic and the atmosphere warm and convivial. I can’t see a riot happening here.