The menu has certainly changed since Gault left: there is not so studied an emphasis on spurning sugar and butter, but neither has the style returned to the classical and richly cloying. It's a splendidly Kiwi take on nouvelle cuisine: sauces are subtle, cooking times mostly brief and spring fairly sings in some of the menu options.
Case in point: a plate of young vegetables - courgette, sweet onion, radish - scattered with caramelised garlic, whole grains of spelt and dressed with a buttermilk jelly. It's salad, really, but with its glad-rags on, and any remorse I felt at forgoing the oysters (Mahurangi, $4 each) was immediately dispelled.
The proper but still relaxed service, as always, was pitched at the perfect mid-point between knowledgeable and knowing. Our attentive waiter was not at all fazed by our decision to order seven dishes in all (nine counting dessert) and we were glad we did.
One section is headed "for the table" - a gentle suggestion that sharing may be in order - but can be treated as an entree selection. We shared three and swooned: seared tuna came with a mild wasabi cream on carpaccio-thin slices of heirloom tomato that had been gently smoked; a burrata ball filled with the long, stretchy threads called stracciatella was pretty much the last word in fresh mozzarella (sherry-roasted onion applauded from the plate's edge); a duo of pork was tail (braised and shredded for a croquette) and slow-cooked cheek that yielded to a fork's edge - though the gelatinously underdone coddled egg was not to my taste.
Our mains of agnolotti (like ravioli) of pea, lapped with a playfully foamy veloute, and turbot with braised octopus were divine and I have run out of room to rhapsodise about the seriously good desserts.
Restaurants come and go in this town and I note with alarm that some excellent ones are struggling while some shockers thrive. Euro, now 16, is as good as ever.
Verdict: Still magic after all these years
Raw $15-$22; Entrees $21-$34; mains $31-$88; desserts $17
