Aga

By BRENDA WARD for canvas

We used to whizz by the Aga when it was at ground-level on the Mission Bay restaurant strip, catching the flicker of its twin torches flaming dangerously into the dark. What kind of mysterious promise lurked behind the heavy door? What Turkish delights?

Tales were spoken in hushed voices in the surrounding suburbs, of wild nights surrounded by Turkish cushions, too much wine, and cheap and delicious Mediterranean feasts.

Somehow we just never made it there.

Then that whole section of Tamaki Drive was rebuilt and the Aga moved upstairs into a funky indigo and gold building. We passed and we wondered. And on a chilly Saturday recently, we wanted to eat out before a party, and up at the Aga seemed like a great way to get primed for what could turn out to be late night.

Remember that tantalising sense of anticipation climbing steps into the unknown? Sadly, at the Aga, you climb at your peril. The tiles on the stairs are falling off just a few years after the refit, held on here and there by inelegant brown tape. But the smells wafting from the kitchen are mouth-watering and we can forgive a lot for a good meal.

We emerge into a longish room with a few tables for larger groups, and a long balcony. From our balcony table we can see through the plastic to the trees and the sea beyond, undoubtedly a stunning view on a balmy summer evening. But the grittiness on the table can't be overlooked and we're glad we're not dressed in summer whites as our elbows hover above it. The pretty timber tracery, too, is grimy after months of accumulated traffic fumes.

Still, there are few tables left as mainly youngish couples in smart casual gear dine quietly, and we join them, scanning the menu with relief. It's split into three sections: Istanbul, Auckland and Rome. Yes, there's pretty much something for everyone, from the picky eater to the risk-taker.

We head to Istanbul for the starter, with a Mezze for two ($19.50) - the platter for the indecisive - with a sample of most of the items on the starters menu. We pile pita with salad, hummus and the yoghurt-based cucumber dip cacik, and nibble the dolma (vine-leaves stuffed with rice, pinenuts, currants and spices), and the falafel (chickpea patties). The easy-drinking Trinity Hill Merlot Cabernet ($7.50) competently survives the flavour assault.

For his main course, Bruce remains seduced by Istanbul and relishes the chunky Chicken Moussakka ($18.50) prepared authentically with egg-plant, but layered with potato. I bid him arrivederci and jet to Rome for the Involtini ($22), tender pork fillet wrapped in ham and camembert, flamed in wine, then served smothered in a delicious creamy mushroom and herb sauce. The Brookfields Cabernet Sauvignon ($7 a glass) is perhaps too robust a companion, but saves the cream sauce from becoming too cloying.

By now, we've forgotten the grime and spotted the belly dancer gyrating down the room, lingering to bring a blush to a victim at each table. The place is just coming alive as we're about to leave. We almost order the Baklava ($6), the rich Turkish layered pastry and walnut dessert, when we realise we haven't visited Auckland yet. Aw, mate. So I can't resist a plate of decadent old-fashioned Brandy Snaps ($6.50): but three's a bit stingy, don't you think?

The food's good, but not as cheap as we're told it used to be. It just needs a good cleaner and a half-decent handyman to fulfil the Aga's Eastern promise.

Parking: Okay if you're early, but to be safe, park by houses. Thieves prey on isolated cars here.

Cost: Starter platter for two, two mains, one dessert, three glasses of wine, $89.

Ambience: Summery, great views, vaguely Mediterranean.


* Read more about what's happening in the world of food, wine, party places and entertainment in canvas magazine, part of your Weekend Herald print edition.