Review: The White Rabbit, Auckland CBD

Executive chef Sean Marshall, left, chief executive Mark Jeddell and chef Ian Harrison are the brains behind The White Rabbit. Photo / Doug Sherring

The White Rabbit
69 Customs St East
Auckland
Ph (09) 369 5069
thewhiterabbit.co.nz

Eating out A lot teaches you the truth of the famous axiom known as Sturgeon's Law, which holds that 90 per cent of everything is crap. The White Rabbit belongs in the other 10 per cent: smart, imaginative, joyful food, in which familiar ingredients seem as if encountered for the very first time.

Some background: The White Rabbit (downstairs is a cafe by day and bar by night; upstairs is a bistro) used to be a bar called the Crown on the corner of Gore St. Aucklanders of a certain age will remember the 150-year-old building as the early opener Britomart Hotel, where wharfies took morning tea with the baffled and bibulous regulars.

Its relaunch coincides with a shakeup at the hospitality group Pack and Company from which former chief executive Mark Keddell has emerged with this, Snapdragon and Libertine (which, word has it, will soon become a branch of Wellington's fabled Matterhorn).

Chef Ian Harrison (Clooney, Everybody's) has seen time in kitchens with Marco Pierre White and Heston Blumenthal and he and executive chef Sean Marshall (several of the places mentioned above and much more besides) have created a terrific menu, full of light and bright tastes that suit summer, but with steak and garlic mash options for trencherman appetites.

The look of the room is handsome and restrained: dark wooden floors and furniture, red leather banquettes around the cream walls, illustrations from Alice in Wonderland.

The place was virtually deserted when we showed up last Saturday night. A waiter apparently seconded from The Grand Budapest Hotel attended to a trio of tourists and we had a personable and charming waitress to ourselves.

We opened our account with appetisers ($5) that stilled conversation in favour of silent appreciation: beef tartare on grilled sourdough was paired with pickled shiitake and a trace of fiery chilli (the duel of oily sweetness and peppery astringency is a hallmark of the food) and meltingly moist warm sardines lay on toast topped with creamy feta and pureed broad beans.

Mischievously, I ordered the entree billed as pig's head (the Professor thinks pigs are too lovely to eat), which was a delicious melange of cheek and ear and I don't know what, braised, rolled and sliced into discs for frying. The accompaniments (a fan of crisp radish and apple; creamed turnip mash; rose-pink apple sauce) again showcased the clever opposition of tart and creamy. Next time, I'm ordering two of these and calling it dinner.

To balance my carnivorous excess, the Professor went for a salad of heirloom tomato (lightly pickled baby cucumber; scoops of watermelon; goat's curd and flecks of dried olive). You're getting the idea here, I hope: you may have met these ingredients before, but this food is brand new.

Mains of bluenose (a fat, crisp-crusted fillet) and risotto (fancy mushrooms and ricotta) demonstrated a complete command of the basics and left us in some doubt as to whether we should risk dessert - I had to remind the Professor quite sternly of her duty to readers. She obliged by putting up her hand for the strawberries; I went for the pineapple. Each displayed the same balance of adventurousness and accessibility that had marked the meal: the obvious (yoghurt-tart fromage blanc with the strawbs, coconut marshmallow with the pineapple) bounced off the surprising (both desserts used kinds of peppercorn). Seriously impressive.

Our lovely waitress was anxious that we tell our friends about the place. "No one seems to know we are here," she wailed. Well, I hope this will do: The White Rabbit is the best debut in town since the opening of Orphans Kitchen. Get there, soon.

Entrees: $16-$20; mains $25-$32; steaks $38-$40; desserts $15

Cheers

Hot new Sicilian

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When to drink pinot noir?

Central Otago winemaker Tim Kerruish has a thing for old pinot noirs because he reckons we consume pinots when they are so young they don't always put their tastiest foot forward. To prove the point, he sent me a box of Folding Hill Central Otago pinot noirs from 2007 to 2012. I know. It's a tough job and all that jazz. My pick to drink now was the 2007. Shame it has sold out. The best way to replicate the experience is to drink 5- to 7-year-old pinot noirs. Luckily, Tim has a little of his 2011 pinot noir, although not much and it needs to be aged for five years. The wait is worth it. The wines are available from specialist stores or email Tim at: kerruish@ihug.co.nz

By Joelle Thomson, joellethomson.com