The newly refurbished Euro is a sprawling
food factory. Staff communicate via earpieces, walk-up parties of 30 are seated
in a flash, and every now and then the maître d’ will call a couple of
tracksuited waiters off the reserves bench to warm up in case someone on the
frontline pulls a hamstring during the long dash between kitchen and table.
Neighbouring bars Pasha and the Green Room
have been subsumed by the restaurant, although a certain level of Moët-fuelled
suit/gold-digger interfacing continues in the central bar area. While we were
eating, one of the girls in question tripped over behind us and landed on her
face. True story: as blood trickled down her forehead into her eye she wailed,
“Argggh! These are new fucking shoes!”
Euro offers a choice between classic dining
and an exciting new chef’s table. More on the latter soon, but the first thing
to say is that for all its scale, the main dining area works very well. Even
the menu is huge — salads, pizzas, pastas, meat and fish done all sorts of
ways. It’s a level of choice you generally see only in first-class
mega-restaurants or in poky suburban eateries which never have any customers
but somehow offer 11 different types of shellfish. Euro is firmly in the first
category but the intention is presumably the same: to be everything to
everyone.
Many Euro favourites are still on offer.
Calamari with prosciutto, parmesan, rocket and dates is incredible, although
the “classic” tuna steak was unseasoned to my taste, relying heavily on
mozzarella and tomato for interest.
“Simon Gault’s choice” scotch fillet was a
spectacular piece of meat, perfectly cooked — charred just the brown side of
burnt on the outside and all pink, melting pleasure within. Those girls dancing
around with Prada handbags might not feel their erotic moves are particularly
enhanced by the half-dozen meat carcasses hanging in a see-through chiller at
the bar, but I love having that visual connection to the meat I’m eating.
Over at the new chef’s table, diners sit
along a bar while a dedicated chef painstakingly prepares each dish — about 10
of them plus extras if you’re doing the whole degustation. The food is a big
step up from the standard dining menu, with experimental flavours, playful
textures and extensive use of molecular techniques.
Paua
with mango paint is simple and superbly balanced, while a grilled Cloudy Bay
oyster arrives suspended between two mandarin slices. Another Kiwi classic is
referenced in the “Pea Pipe”, a glass cylinder of pea soup topped with a
cube of potato, prosciutto dust, truffled sugar and anchovy caviar. Fancy, but
not unnecessarily so — that dust, for example, packs a big salty ham hit
without you having to chew your way through a slice of it.
Other dishes feature scallops, crab,
venison, wagyu beef and more. While there’s no official wine-matching option,
staff will happily help out — each well-chosen glass straddling two or even
three diverse dishes with ease.
Eating the chef’s food while he watches
takes practice, especially when it’s Gault himself, as does finding somewhere
else to look while he’s measuring out the butter. But the opportunity to see
behind the curtain is a rewarding experience, a great addition to the main
restaurant service.
MasterChef has turned Simon Gault from
respected chef into household name, so we’re lucky he’s still in the mood to
extend himself. Book now before we lose him to Celebrity Treasure Island.
Posts
