The Black Hoof
12 Wyndham St, Auckland
Ph: (09) 366 1271
theblackhoof co nz
You gotta love that name. It's so typical of the Spanish, who don't mince words when they talk about tucker. I once asked the Spanish ambassador how many pigs died each year in the production of the legendary ham called jamon iberico de bellota. "Nowhere near enough," he shot back. I thought it was a deadpan joke, but it was a sincerely held opinion.
Black Hoof may seem to proclaim a dedication to serving bits of erstwhile animals, but in fact, the selection of charcuteria aside, more than three-quarters of what's on offer here is meat-free, and a full-on vegetarian would have plenty of choice.
The Professor and I swung by on a quiet Tuesday evening and I have to say that the decor needed work. The brick walls of the upstairs room, which would once have been a warehouse for the business beneath, were unrelieved, save for a poster for a poster in French.
Given the wealth of Spanish imagery that you find in any half-way decent tapas bar, it's a puzzling and regrettable omission; the place felt cold and sterile. But a row of cured meats whose combined value would probably equal the GDP of Turkmenistan, hung above the bar and it was to those that we turned our attention first.
The selection runs from chorizo and sausage, through smoked pork loin to that prince of hams, named "de bellota" after the acorns the pigs forage as they fatten. It comes to the table as 50g for $29 (do the maths).
Yes, it really is that good. I've always preferred jamon serrano to prosciutto, actually. In the difference you can taste the distinction between the Spanish and the Italian gastronomic sensibility: the Italians' class and refinement is matched by the Spanish gusto (that's a word they use for flavour, incidentally, and it also means pleasure).
That ham delivers its flavours in waves, like a good wine, starting salty and then by turns dense and meaty, smooth and buttery. They say the best things in life are free, but as long as this is going for $600 a kilo, I will beg to differ.
Excellently crusty baguette came with a romesco sauce, like a pesto, made from almonds and peppers. Smoked eel, by Moko of North Canterbury, was a revelation, quite devoid of the cloying oiliness that for me has always made eel hard to stomach: this was a fishy, wild-food delight, moist and tasty. Gazpacho verde, which came in a glass, was like a fresh blast of spring, a marvellously vibrant cucumber-led variation on the Andalucian chilled soup, which is traditionally made with tomato.
Croquettes of goat cheese, sprinkled with fragments of plump Spanish almonds, were a creamy delight: the beignet-style pastry surrounded warm cheese with just the right amount of body so as to dribble over the tongue while remaining firm to the bite.
Lamb shoulder, slow-cooked to dreamy softness, was paired with hummus and labneh (a dense, strained yoghurt). The meat was perhaps a shade dry - more sauce was needed - but the flavour was insane. And desserts - the famous almond cake from Galicia called torta de Santiago and rich chocolate mousse, containing prunes - were knockout material.
Chefs William Thorpe and Logan Coath are veterans of Casita Miro and Cable Bay on Waiheke, so it's no surprise the food is as good as it is. But there's a real warmth to the service here which is a credit to the place and with luck it will establish a reputation that overcomes its unprepossessing inner-city position.
Hams $11-$29; Cheeses $13; tapas $6-$11; vegetables $9; larger dishes $12-$26
Verdict: Sabrosisimo (It's Spanish for exceedingly delicious)