It sounded grand to us: no bum choices, a chance to try new things. So after giving him our short list of allergies and serious food dislikes, he took off to create our perfect Italian meal. Which is where the only slight glitch in the system occurred.
Although the restaurant wasn't busy, we waited almost an hour, sipping our dry Italian wines before it all happened.
Our first dish was long, elegant and filled with thin-sliced tuna carpaccio swamped in olive oil, studded with greenery: the whole ensemble seemed quite enough as an entree for four on its own. But there was more, much more. Next came finely sliced smoked beef topped with rocket, with just enough creamy sauce to make it delectable, thickly sprinkled with fresh-grated parmesan cheese. Every bite came together for an amazing mouthful. Next to arrive was a line-up of tiny red and yellow heirloom tomatoes topped with egg-sized balls of buffalo mozzarella. Then, just as our table was getting seriously crowded, our waiter delivered a generous plate of polipo, or octopus, sprinkled with a piquant, thinner dressing, accented with slivers of raw garlic. It was so meaty and tender, I just couldn't stop munching away.
After that we asked our charming, ever-smiling waiter if that was it. "Oh no," she said. "You have three more main courses to come, but don't worry, they're very small."
With a flourish, she reappeared with four large plates sporting, in the middle, a fat parcel of tender, home-made pasta stuffed with crab meat and floating in a creamy, truffle-infused sauce. After all that protein it was just what we needed, and fabulous, too.
Next up was an equally big plate, with a decent-sized portion of tarakihi surrounded by tiny, almost-raw clams. Both were tender, with a taste of the sea still clinging. Again it was small, just the right size for us, perfectly cooked. But it was the quail course which was the most thrilling. Roasted rare, with just one tiny wing bone still attached, filled with pork sausage meat, and sitting on a creamy veloute sauce, accompanied by a small roasted beetroot with a hint of the vinegar our mothers used to make, it was a dream.
The cannelloni dessert filled with ricotta and chopped almonds, was another thrill. Small but perfectly presented, contrasting creamy ricotta with the nuts and a chocolate-dribbled cannelloni case that I had to shatter with the back of my spoon, it was everything we could ask for rolled into one. We'd go back for that alone, if we could be sure it was on the menu.
Meanwhile the rest of Farina's staff dropped over to introduce themselves and ask how we were getting on, which made us feel as though we were at a terrific dinner party rather than a restaurant we'd never tried before.
In all, despite a couple of things that need fixing (Mike says he has 40 items on his list still to be sorted), Farina turns a dinner into a banquet without costing the earth. Our gripes focus mainly on the wine list (no soft-finishing pinot gris or gewurztraminer for people like me) very few chairs with backs (we chose the only four) but the glory of the food overshadowed all that. Good luck to Mike and his super-friendly team for keeping prices down, insisting quality and freshness are top of the list - and cooking like angels.
Our meal: $196 for five dishes, two desserts and four glasses of wine.
Wine list: Not the most extensive list but varied, with some less familiar choices to try.
Verdict: Fine and unusual flavours well served in a welcoming setting, a combination that left us planning a return visit.
