An email doing the rounds among journos a few years back was a compilation of (doubtless fictional) unpublished letters to the editors of London papers. One that would appeal to diners ran, "I read with interest that some scientists in Australia have discovered the smallest fish known to exist. They've obviously never been to the Britannia Chippy on the Gloucester Road."
They have also plainly never ordered the blackened snapper at Chapel. To describe the fish component of this dish as microscopic would be unfair; I suspect the letter-writer and those marine biologists would call it a monster of the deep. But I needed the Professor's assurance that there was some fish on the plate, since the evidence of my own eyes from the other side of the table was not sufficient.
The snapper, whose blackened state was reported to be detectable by neither eye nor palate, was piled - although I'm not sure you can pile so small a quantity - on large polenta cakes that looked like McDonald's hash browns but didn't taste as good (is polenta an idea whose time has gone? Just asking).
The visual balance was akin to laying a single anchovy on a piece of toast. It cost $28, which is bargain-basement in the neighbourhood, but it wasn't worth it.
On the corner of Anglesea St and fronted by a generous expanse of pavement, Chapel is probably the most popular bar on the Ponsonby strip. It's easy to see why: the view of the city is unobstructed and at this time of year, if it is showing its face at all, the westering sun smiles on the drinkers who spill - like their drinks - on to the footpath.
We ate there about eight years ago when it had not long been open and I remember being rather impressed with skilfully prepared food at moderate prices. Quite why I decided to go again, I can't remember - the Professor says it may be something to do with my being a halfwit - but I read an appetising piece of self-promotion somewhere.
To their great credit, they responded to the emailed booking request with an advisory about "a very lively Sunday Session with ... DJs, playing from 3pm until late in the evening. Is this suited to the dining occasion you were looking for?" Such customer-focused foresight is commendable and rare: two of the classiest joints in town failed to warn us us we would be sharing the place with, respectively, a wedding breakfast and an office Christmas party.
So we rebooked for a quiet weeknight when we were the only diners. We were attended to by a French waitress whose je ne sais quoi was bigger than her command of English (I had to resort to French to include words like "raw" and "warm" in questions.) And the food was only so-so.
Pancakes containing shredded duck were nicely composed, but too large and stodgy to be served cold; a pork chop's crackling was as crisp as haloumi and the small shovelful of god-awful pesto on the meat did not relieve its dryness.
The Professor, the country's leading dessert critic, instructs me to give the chocolate fondant six stars, but the claim on Chapel's website that "the food is as good as you'll find anywhere on Ponsonby Road" is, I suggest, a trifle extravagant. If, however, it's a bar you're looking for, it may be just the ticket. But you probably already knew that.
Entrees/bar snacks: $10-$16; mains $19-$29; salads $19; pizzas $20; side $8; desserts $12
Verdict: Several notches below the neighbourhood competition.
Cheers
- By Joelle Thomson, joellethomson.com
It is impossible to visit Hawkes Bay and leave thinking this region is all sunshine and foreshore and heat-filled days. The Bay's climate is one of New Zealand's most diverse for growing the raw ingredients that go into a bottle of wine.
Snowcapped Ruahine Ranges can tinge the sunniest of days with an unwelcome crispness, enabling white grapes to retain their acidity. This tastes fresh in white wines, which came through at the 15th Hawkes Bay A&P Bayley's Wine Awards I judged last month. It still makes the mouth water remembering Ngatarawa Farmgate chenin blanc. The surprise factor was its deceptively pale colour and freshness; it was made in 2009. Chenin is thin on the ground but wow, it's good. Esk Valley chenin blanc is another stunner. Fellow judges North American Chuck Hayward and Hawkes Bay winemaker Rod Easthope were equally impressed by the chardonnays, chenins, a dessert riesling and verdelho. A bunch of unusual reds showed it's early days for tempranillo, grenache, malbec, cabernet franc, montepulciano, marzemino and sangiovese. Loved the marzemino (Church Road) but the whites shone brightest.
Wine of the week
What: 2013 Esk Valley Winemaker's Reserve Chardonnay, $31-$32, 14 per cent ABV
Where? Grapes from two vineyards; on Esk River and the banks of Ngaruroro River.
How? Barrel fermentation adds full bodied bells and creamy, nutty flavours. Tasty.