Let's eat: No excuse for growing pains

Meadow restaurant, 20 St Johns Rd, Meadowbank. Photo / Doug Sherring

Meadow
20 St Johns Rd
Meadowbank
facebook.com/meadowrestaurant

More than once I've been castigated for reviewing a new restaurant before it has had time to "find its feet". But the way I see it, if they are charging, they are asking to be assessed. So I make no excuse for having visited Meadow on day five, and even less excuse for having found that they had, at that stage anyway, a lot of work to do.

I would have gone on day three, but couldn't get in for the heaving crowds of locals noisily enjoying Thursday-night drinks (they're starved for choice in that part of town, poor dears). When we finally snared a table, on a Saturday at 5pm, it was in the partially glassed-in conservatory, right next to the roaring fire, which warded off the worst of an unseasonable chill.

The downside was the nearby group of that species the Poms call a Hooray Henry - barely post-pubertal mouth-breathers, sipping rosé and ostentatiously consulting their new iPhones. Their guffawing profanity was such that I thought the Professor was going to box their ears, which would have been fun, but unfortunately they left.

Meadow is the creation of Dana Johnston and JP Schmidt, whose credits include 46 & York in Parnell and several Britomart watering holes. Schmidt, who was stoking the fire, beer in hand, spent some time explaining to me how the design (by famous luxury-lodge specialist Virginia Fisher) needed some radical rethinking.

He's right on the button there. It is, of course, coolly and expensively beautiful - concrete and whites, with reproduction Prouve chairs inside and a summery courtyard with espaliered fruit trees - and it's just the ticket for Southern California or the south of France.

Am I unkind to mention that it is in Auckland?

The food matches the decor, I guess, in that it also doesn't seem to have been thought through. It's full of choices that have become dining-out cliches (sliders, pulled pork, salmon and fennel, duck pappardelle, lamb shoulder). The inner eastern suburbs are not, I admit, noted for their tendency to challenge convention - tradition is their lifeblood, you might say - but reading the menu bored me almost to tears.

An opening soft-shell taco had a nice texture, though the pulled pork tasted strongly of bottled barbecue sauce. A so-called pork terrine was crumbed and deep-fried, but the shredded meat inside was bland and the strips of cold and uncrisp crackling on top were greasy and cheerless. Meanwhile, pumpkin soup, served with cotton-wool white bread as from a home breadmaker, was thin and lacked body. It was also tepid.

If the pappardelle was bought in, they should change their supplier; if it was house-made, they should assign the chef responsible to other duties. Too thin, limp and flavourless, it was not helped by a duck ragu with no entitlement to the name: shredded meat with some mushrooms, it was almost entirely devoid of taste - quite an achievement with confit duck - and didn't even have enough salt.

The fish of the day, John Dory, was excellent, charred on the skin and full of flavour, though I suspect the salt that should have been on the duck was applied to the fish. Alas, it came with parsley risotto. Those are two words that should never be yoked together: parsley is a garnish, and in profusion and heated, it works only as a stand-in for silage. Desserts were routine and unobjectionable.

I have no doubt that Meadow will be the bar of choice for well-heeled locals for a while. Whether it will or should attract diners, from there, or further afield, is more doubtful.

snacks $6-$12;
starters $15-$18;
pizzas $20-$24;
mains $19-$33;
desserts $14-$15

Verdict: A shaky start