On a recent Wednesday night at one of Auckland’s top restaurants, diners were served half the courses they were promised and no one mentioned it. Until we turned up.

We were locked outside on arrival, given a leaf as a first course, and ushered out the door without dessert – but let us start at the beginning.

We’d snapped up tickets to a Metro’s one night only Speed Pasture event, shaving $200 off the price of eating at the fine dining restaurant voted best in Auckland by the esteemed magazine, the catch being we had a half hour sitting. The attraction being we didn’t have to drop $800 on dinner. The Metro magazine event was promoted as five sittings of six people and 11 courses, one every two to three minutes. We were ready for a PB eating marathon. We’d even been reminded the day before to expect a little chaos. 

 

Our booking was well into the night for two couples with young children, so we bided our time a few doors down with wine mopped up with sourdough and the bar’s complimentary canapes, wondering if the courses at Pasture would be any bigger.

Then it was our turn at one of Auckland’s top restaurants.

We arrived to manuka smoking on a brazier and a locked door. Metro editor Henry popped his head out and told us they were running late. Then he shut the door and re-locked it. We waited another 10 minutes before being welcomed in. Finally Two Hungry Mums and Two Hangry Dads were in residence.

It was a chaotic scene indoors, with the first three bookings of the night still eating dinner. For a place that serves six people, that’s a crowd. We were told things were running late, and our first course would be served at the entrance table, then we’d be seated at the chef’s counter as planned, before finishing in the lounge.

The entrance doubles as a distillery and laboratory, with a large laundry-style basin, shelves of fermented produce, and jars of distilled liquor sitting on the floor. The crayfish watched from their glass home as we were served our first drink. 

Our Metro magazine hosts swirled liquid nitrogen in wine glasses, splashed it on the table, then poured in the cockail. Left guessing as to what it was, we took a guess – pear, banana, kombucha? It’s Pasture’s style to remain menu-free and email guests what they ate the next day. We still haven’t received our menu. 

 Hungry, and slightly tipsy, we were served a leaf. We are both married to carnivores and their first impressions were of the WTF variety. There’s not too much to say about a leaf. especially without knowing what kind of leaf it was. It was green, crunchy and a mouthful of chlorophyll. It counted as one of our 5 daily servings of vegetables. We were then moved to the chef’s table so we could witness the magic happening. Plied with more alcohol, this time a fermented white, our second course was more stalks, and beans, slightly warmer this time. Delicious. The chef’s table is definitely the best seat in the house but watching Ed and his team at work was slightly uncomfortable as they were head down bum up trying to keep the dishes churning out. Other courses dribbled out – a bowl of raw mushroom shavings with …. (oh that’s right, the menu is coming), some absolutely perfect fish that was seared for literally 10 seconds on each side before being sliced and arranged on a disk of salt or ice, and some plump zucchini flowers stuffed with something icy (we think something with buffalo milk because that’s what was written on the pastry bag). 

The men started to get excited when they saw the slab of raw red meat being heavily salted in front of them. A quick sear over open flames, rested, and then sliced. Meaty, fatty goodness served with half a baby cucumber. Regardless, it was still the dish of the night.By now we were anticipating some glorious desserts. Chocolate? Lemon? Some kind of foam? The bomb was dropped as Ed announced that was the end of the meal, thanks for coming and please move to the couch to finish your drink as the next sitting is waiting. At the end of the night we left disappointed, especially after reading Henry’s own review. We missed out on black abalone, short rib, smoked eel and dessert – rhubarb with flowers. Four courses down with no apology and certainly no offer of compensation. There’s no doubt that Pasture performs best when they’re working at their own leisurely pace, but we don’t want to be their over promised and under delivered guinea pigs, especially now we know what we missed out on. Yes, generous drinks were poured during the night although we wondered if getting us drunk would make us forget.We talked to Henry about the elephant in the room – the missing dishes, and he said we were the first to mention it. What if you’d scrimped and saved enough to come to this event, knowing you’d never be able to afford the whole hog, and you were served half of the dishes. If our hosts had front footed from the beginning, our expectations would have been much more realistic and perhaps not so disgruntled. There’s also the awkward factor that our tickets were pre paid, therefore there was not that normal exchange with ‘how was your meal’ etc. We were left wondering why no one else had said anything, and in the days to come we were still left wondering why there was radio silence on their Facebook page. Customer queries still remain unanswered. A night to remember? Meh. 

Pasture.

235 Parnell Road, Parnell.