Rating: * * *
Unit N 113 Meadowland Drive
Meadowlands, Howick
Ph: (09) 532 8938
Wine List: Nope. Wine glasses though.
Vegetarians: One of the waitresses is.
Watch Out For: A parking place.
Bottom line: Deja vu.
There was a radio ad in the 80s consisting of an imaginary conversation in the car between a young woman and her paramour, who had taken her to dinner well outside her comfort zone.
Petulance could not completely flatten her impeccably St Cuthbert's vowels as she complained: "You didn't tell me you were bringing me to Ponsonby." The last word was enunciated as though it were a communicable disease and the jungle drums that had been murmuring in the background were turned up for emphasis (a frightfully funny joke since the eatery in question was called Dr Livingstone, I Presume).
The ad came into my mind as, on the way to Fu Ying Men, I waited for the Professor to complain: "You didn't tell me you were bringing me to Howick."
The place had been enthusiastically recommended by a Howick reader who added the gently chiding aside that "a lot of people live out east and don't want to drive to the city each time they go out to dinner". I was in no position to dispute that assertion, so off we went, leaving shortly after lunch to make it in time for our 7pm booking. I exaggerate, of course - it was well after 3pm.
Living within about 5km of Queen St, I have come to conceive of the city as a small village. Vast swathes of suburban hinterland are terra incognita but, armed with directions printed off Google Maps, we aimed the trusty Corolla for a part of Auckland that, I now know, is named Somerville.
As a journey it had its moments. We had a blind woman in the back who, I fancy, would have done a better job than we did of getting us there.
The Professor is one of those people who insists on driving, but does not necessarily believe this means that the non-driver should be in charge of navigation. She maintains this view even when the non-driver is armed with a street directory and a printout from Google Maps. The sharp left she made into a shopping centre car park was forgivable, but her insistence that this was not the wrong way was slightly annoying.
At one point, as we took in a view across farmland to what I think was the Firth of Thames, though it may have been Tauranga harbour, the atmosphere in the car became decidedly frosty.
Mercifully, it transpired that we were only one wrong turn away from where we were meant to be, although parking was both logistically complicated and culturally fraught.
It also took some time to locate Fu Ying Men among the welter of Chinese eateries in the large and inaptly named Meadowlands shopping centre.
All that argument had stimulated my appetite something wicked, so after we'd exchanged some cross-country travel stories with the rest of our party, I took it on myself to negotiate with the extremely helpful waitress an order for the whole table.
In this, I had sporadic unsolicited advice from the Professor who didn't like the sound of the pigs' ears and dishes involving intestines, so our sampling from the menu may have tended towards the conservative. Suffice it to say that there is plenty here to satisfy the most adventurous palate.
We contented ourselves with sizzling lamb and cumin, whole baked fish, spring rolls, deep-fried crumbed pork, Peking-style duck in pancakes and a plate of steamed vegetables, all free of MSG and served with lashings of Chinese tea.
The bill was $120 for six and I rather suspect they just charge $20 a head no matter what you eat.
You know the drill. It's like about 500 other Chinese joints between Orewa and Pukekohe - and it's absolutely ideal if you live in Somerville.
