Dinner

Press, 5 December 1985, Page 46

Dinner

The Avon Hotel 356 Oxford Terrace Phone 791-180 Licensed

By

JENNY CLARK

The vicar and I, tummies empty and noses a-twitch, were led by a smiling waitress to a side table in the spacious and light dining room of the Avon Hotel restaurant.

Preferring an intimate decor of the kind found inside a confessional, the vicar grunted slightly, but the waitresses pleased him. “Pretty,” quoth he.

The service at the Avon Hotel is its strong point. Without exception all staff were friendly, helpful and efficient, without being obtrusive.

The one and only soup, which that evening was mushroom, ($2.25) was smooth and creamy. The übiquitous parsley adorned the surface. Groan. When will we make more use of the variety of herbs avail-

able for garnish and se*asoning? From the wide range of appetisers, the vicar chose mussels Kilpatrick ($5.25), described as being in their “half shell topped with Julienne of bacon, Worcestershire sauce and gently grilled.” The term “gently” amused us—as though the chef had apologised to the mussels as he seared their little tongues off. Delicious, was the verdict, especially the sauce.

My grapefruit and mandarin cocktail ($4.75) was simply segments in a glass with cherries. And believe it or not, parsley. “The chef can’t like me,” I decided. There had to be some reason for parsley—why not mint? Or lemon balm?

In the main selection, chicken princess ($12.25) appealed, as did the a la carte specialities of canneloni with cheese ($10.75); fillet

steak chasseur ($16.50), and scallops of bacon ($15.75). But the vicar, an adventurous sort, was game to try the venison ragout ($13.25), and I drooled at the prospect of pork fillets with apricots ($15.75). In the merciful absence of live, loud music, we were entertained in the short wait for the main course by the next-door diners tackling their Sizzler d’Avon ($17.75). The arrival of this was heralded by the sound of apparent gunfire, closely followed by a cloud of steam—sizzler is an apt des-

cription of the 500 gm of ribeye steak. The diners were equipped with special paper bibs to protect their clothing, and the waitress, noting that one bib had a small spot of oil on the collar, immediately got a replacement. This is a typical example of the style and extent of the service at the Avon. The vicar’s venison, accompanied by noodles, kiwi fruit, potato, and a curiously cut gherkin, was, to his surprise, bland, but enjoyable. The hot vegetables were turnip, spinach and

asparagus. (The last was slightly under-cooked and hard). It was as attractive to look at as to eat, with a curled wedge of orange, and yes, parsley. My pork was that rare animal, a dish which you remember for many years. The tender meat was cooked in a blend of sherry, apricots and cream, garnished with cherries and you-know-what. The combination of tastes and textures was heavenly and I would return to the Avon Hotel for that dish alone. The accompanying

salad was suitably healthy enough, and the French dressing tangy. The dessert trolley was scorned by the vicar as “boring,” but then he is notoriously unexcitable about traditional Kiwi puddings—that is, meringues, swiss rolls, fniit salad and fresh fruit The absence of a trifle was unusual, considering the conservative fare, and we settled for fresh strawberries and icing sugar and cream, for $4.75. The strawberries, surprise, surprise, were not garnished with

parsley. For wine, we enjoyed a bottle of Villa Maria Private Bin Pinot Noir at $15.25, which improved on acquaintance, and coffee, with after-dinner mints was $1.75. The total cost for two was $72.45. The service makes the Avon Hotel an especially happy place for dining out, which is not marred by the food, and would be suitable for many sorts of dining occasions.

“Except intimacy,” growled the vicar as I put him on his leash and took him out into the night.