Phone: (09) 520 3923
We spent: $119 for two.
Rating out of 10: Food: 6.5 Service: 7 Value: 8 Ambience: 7 Book online with Restaurant Hub
The men wore beards and the women sat close to their iPhones. I felt confident we were the only people in the room who still watched free-to-air television.
Our body language gave away our advancing years. We clutched menus, but the millennials of the species clutched each other. We sat on separate chairs, they squashed, side-by-side, thigh-to-thigh, on the banquette. Newmarket on a Tuesday evening was a heaving mass of attractive 20-somethings, rampant hormones - and us.
I could see the date night appeal of Tucks and Bao. The food is cheapish and the surroundings (bamboo, fairy lights and tiki bar thatching) are cheerful. Assuming you've got a stomach for terrible puns, the menu is designed for broad appeal. It's ostensibly Asian, but you can also order "a salt and battery", aka fish and chips with tartare and ketchup, or "clucking good" crispy chicken with onion relish. The fish bites, chicken nuggets and mini hotdogs on the kid's menu are described, variously, as I don't know, I don't care, and I'm not hungry.
But of course you're there for the bao. The now-ubiquitous Chinese steamed bun began its world domination when chefs, including David Chang and Eddie Huang, introduced their takes to New York menus.
They say every generation gets the carbohydrate it deserves, but those born in the year of the pork belly bao are luckier than most. They have never had to endure a pizza with smoked salmon or a panini with cranberry sauce. The bao has not escaped entirely unscathed. Exhibit A: Tucks and Bao's "bad boy bao-ger" featuring a prime beef patty, cheese, tomato, lettuce, pickles, mustard and Tucks special sauce on a toasted bao bun ($14).
We skipped the shrimp and the pulled pork versions and went straight for the belly ($12). The buns were soft, round and fluffy, but even a liberal splash of hoisin couldn't save a disappointingly dry slab of meat.
We had much better luck with the "Gangnam slaw" ($16), an unusual mix of cabbage and robust herbs, including garlic chives. The dressing was chilli-spiked and the tofu was crisp on the outside and scrambled-egg soft on the inside. Not your ordinary slaw, and all the better for it.
Fresh rice paper rolls with prawns and tiny pork meatballs ($14) were tasty and filling, but don't restrict yourself to the "small tucks". That tofu is available twice more (lemon-peppered, and served with beansprout, coriander and chilli lime salad). A $28 on-the-bone short beef rib rendang wouldn't have looked out of place on The Flintstones. It wasn't quite as falling-off-the-bone as it should have been, but we enjoyed it very much.
So far, so reasonably good, even though the food puns were driving me crazy. I wanted to try the cabbage dumpIings but I was never going to ask for "no beef here, bro". Also, no one who wants a salad should ever have to say "Thai me up".
But I was still a little hungry. While other women had been staring into their date's eyes, I had been staring at their food. "Mr Ho's chilli wontons" (steamed, and stuffed with pork) looked amazing.
Probably I should have just stolen one from a distracted millennial. Our late order took forever and when the lid was finally lifted, the dumpling wrapper was raw. The wontons were wanting. Pun completely intended.