Address: 21 Hurstmere Rd, Takapuna
Phone: (09) 929 2791
Cuisine: Modern NZ
Rating: 9/10
He lent over the dinner table and said, "You look like you've just had sex." He was referring to my flushed cheeks and quickness of breath, I presume. "I blame Nick Honeyman" was all I could utter. I'd just taken the last mouthful of my main dish at The Commons and the sheer brilliance of the food was taking my breath away. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me bring you up to speed: The Commons in Takapuna is the newest venture from the canny team that has brought us Everybody's, Roxy and, more recently, Libertine. They're on a roll, with lots of media coverage, and there's no doubt as to their ability to design, develop and structure clever business deals but in my opinion, their biggest coup by far is securing chef Honeyman to head up their newest kitchen. He's a chef of enormous talent and invention, who had already begun to attract enough attention to be included in the line-up of Auckland's best chefs.
In this new venture Honeyman is challenging diners, through an unconventional approach to the menu, to relinquish control to him and his talented kitchen and front-of-house team. He invites diners to join him on a ride of the unexpected by ordering from a menu where dishes are described in no more than one or two words (for those who can't resist, flipping the menu reveals a glossary describing each dish in more detail). We were happy to play his game of trust, ordering entirely from the scantily worded menu, and throughout our night there were surprises galore, all of them pleasant.
For my entree I couldn't go past the romantic-sounding "Land & Sea" and from the first mouthful I was indeed smitten. Carefully de-boned chicken wings sat alongside perfectly cooked scallops atop a rectangle of confit pig's head meat that was unfatty, earthy and rich with sweet flavour. Bringing the whole lot together was a golden sweetcorn puree, reminding me how ordinary ingredients can become quite magical in the right hands. The dish looked spectacular with every detail tended to, down to the slivers of konbu (seaweed) that looked like thin shavings of intricately patterned tree bark.
Meanwhile, my dining companion was having his own fun, discovering the complex layers of a dish that had earned the menu description of, quite simply, "venison". A stolen forkful revealed to me deep charcoal from an inky puree, hints of Middle Eastern cuisine with roasted eggplant; the sharp, sweet bite from shards of black pepper meringue; and the high, tart note from freeze-dried raspberries. And venison, which melted in your mouth.
