Rick Stein's Food Odyssey - Wednesday 4 August, Aotea Centre, Auckland

It was with great excitement that we set off to see one of our favourite food heroes Rick Stein, direct from Cornwall via New South Wales live on stage, right here in New Zealand.

A familiar sight and sound in our house, Rick's TV shows play with regular rotation on the Food channel. I never tire of seeing the ladies fossicking for samphire, kippers smoking in a medieval outhouse and that big fat man who gets in the boat and almost makes it tip over.

Needless to say, the chef's many fans poured into the Aotea Centre that night. One could safely assume that the mostly 'older' crowd were not hanging out for pension day, given the number of Rick Stein carry bags floating around - a sure sign that they'd paid top dollar for VIP tickets. Presumably not many cakes were baked in Remuera that night.

Perhaps then, the familiar presence of Mark Sainsbury as the interviewer slash local comedian was a welcome sight. But for those of us who came to hear Rick's melodious voice and the enchanting stories he has picked up from years of cooking around the world, Sainsbury presented a more sinister prospect - the handbrake.

Every time Rick launched into a great story in his wonderful accent that I once heard described as 'Cider with Rosie,' Mark was quick to jump in with another question - so tell me about this nightclub you once ran? The channel flicked right back to TV One, 7pm weeknights.

A cheeky cameraman and Rick's chef mate Paul also made their presence felt but no one could deny that Rick was the star of the show. He didn't need to do a lot to impress us frankly. I think everyone in the room was a fan, and how could you not be when the big screen showed clips of him swearing like a sailor on his French Odyssey and hanging off a wharf with a five kilo salmon swinging in a net behind him.

Of course, the show would not be complete without Chalky. Though sadly deceased, the shaggy Jack Russell remains as popular as ever. A video of him attacking a microphone brought the house down. The oldies certainly liked that one! And the Chalky song! Well don't get me started.

Rick described the recipes he made that night just as beautifully as he recites Sir John Betjeman. Take moules mariniere - just gather some cleaned mussels, add chopped garlic, white wine and you're away, or do as the Spanish do and open some tiny pipis right on the flat plate over high heat. Perhaps try cooking a curry in South East Asian style, take lemongrass, galangal, ginger, garlic, chilli, all those wonderfully aromatic ingredients and pour in lashings of coconut milk and then add the freshest John Dory fillets that you bought at the fish market that morning. Heavenly.

As were the smells coming from the stovetop.

The show could have carried on this this way the whole time. Surely this is what the audience had come to see? Just Rick, removed from the telly to become the real, lovely man we had all hoped he was, captivating us with his experiences and the art of simple fresh cooking. And when it did roll like this, it was a fabulous night.

But again, I felt that the experience was compromised when it was announced there was to be an impromptu ready steady cook challenge between Rick and Paul to conclude the evening. Although Paul's finished plate looked spectacular, it was the most uncomfortable audience-participation member I have ever seen who summed up the show. When asked to choose his favourite, he replied 'it's got to be Rick'.

And didn't we all agree.

Delicious

Once in a while you just want to go somewhere that is comfortable. A place where you can walk in and the only sound you hear is the pleasant background chatter of happy diners.

But often when you open the door the feeling of instantaneous noise is akin to being hit by a freight train. While that might be desirable at the Neighbourhood on Friday night, it's not ideal on a slow winter evening when one could just as easily eat a home-cooked meal.

Except you haven’t the energy to cook it.

This is when you should go to Delicious. How fortunate we were that evening to be lead upstairs to a padded bench seat. When the table next to us vacated, the waiter asked if we would like to ‘spread out’. It was just like sitting on a couch.

We had been in good hands all night. At the bar during the short wait for a table, I indulged in a bellini. How exciting to see prosecco on the menu! The barman offered us complementary pickled garlic which made a nice change from peanuts. The surprisingly subtle flavour didn’t linger as you might expect and I still have the manfriend to prove it.

At Delicious you eat pasta, it’s as simple as that. But not the kind that you get at La Porchetta - this is light as a feather, intensely flavoured and real fresh pasta. Thick ribbons of parpardelle in ragout, pillows of lemon ricotta ravioli and the token chicken risotto – all well priced and very tasty.

They also have fabulous desserts in the cabinet and I’d already made up my mind as I walked past that tiramisu would be consumed that night. When in Rome…

I love Italians and I love Italian food. One I have had a great deal of experience with, the other not so much. While there is always time to be groped in Naples, I have found good Italian eateries to be in short supply in Auckland. A mama’s trattoria it is not, but Delicious is definitely a wonderful restaurant to go for a quality supper that will leave you feeling as warm and cosy as the place itself.

An ode to cream, part one

After our wonderful meal at Ponsonby Road Bistro, I was inspired to make my own seafood special. Cockles are always a huge favourite at our pad. Each time one of us heads up north, we go to our special kai moana gathering spot to bring back a feed for our friends. I have various ways of preparing these, but drenching them in creme fraiche seems to go down a treat every time. Funny that.

Creamy Cockles with Chives and Shallots

cockles - as many as the heart desires
butter - a large knob
garlic - 2 cloves, finely chopped
shallots - 2, finely chopped
white wine - 1/3 cup
creme fraiche - 2 Tbsp
lemon - 1, zest and juice
chives - finely sliced
sea salt and freshly cracked pepper

Melt the butter in a pan. Add the garlic, shallots and some salt and fry gently so they don't colour. Turn up the heat, pour in the white wine and let it bubble. Add the cockles and put a lid on the pan. As the shells begin to open, remove the cockles. This will stop them overcooking. Once all the cockles are open, reduce the delicious liqour remaining in the pan.

To finish, add the creme fraiche and stir it to combine. Add the lemon juice, salt and pepper then return the cockles to the pan with the chives. The chives are added at the last minute to retain their beautiful bright green colour. Serve in a wide bowl and make sure you have lots of lovely bread to mop up that sauce - I favour any bread from Paneton bakery.

Serves 2 - probably.

This also makes a delicious pasta - just cook up some linguine or spaghetti and stir through at the end.

Warm beginnings...

There is nothing quite like the warm glow of anticipation one feels when you have spontaneous weeknight dinner plans with a great friend.

That email advising that your end of financial year budgets are not up to scratch seems irrelevant compared to the gossip that is sure to follow a couple of glasses of chardonnay. Even the four-car accident on the motorway that you narrowly avoided does not dampen spirits. You can recognise the fact that you were able to get away first and not get stuck in the inevitable traffic jam stretching back to Penrose. Luck is on your side!

Ponsonby Road Bistro was the destination that Thursday night. Did we have a booking? One glance around the restaurant and I was perplexed. Other than a couple at the bar, we appeared to be the only souls there.

However, it quickly became clear why this was quite an ask. An hour later, it was packed to capacity. The popularity of this fashionable bistro cemented the fact that going out for tea at 6.15 is just not very cool.

The menu is one of the most salivating around. Braised beef cheeks, Waiheke oysters, duck confit on puy lentils, rhubarb crumble – it is all there attractively scribed in that trendy writing only an architect can do, making it a difficult choice when you are still on weekday ‘controlled’ eating. They also do a shellfish of the day, which we all love. Parfait.

Our eventual choices of scotch fillet, home-baked bread, oysters with the traditional red wine vinegar and shallot accompaniment, John Dory and a rich chocolate fondant were all delicious. Isn’t that just what you feel like on a cold June evening?

The bread and butter pudding was the star though. From the moment I saw it, I knew I had to have it. Images of Nigella, Rick and Delia charged through my mind. This very English pud was (I knew this from food TV) the epitome of Britishness.

I felt comforted and warmed knowing that I would soon be paying homage to my forbearers by eating this pudding. That, like mushy peas and jellied eels, this didn’t quite follow the colonists to end up on the plates of future generations of New Zealanders. But unlike jellied eels, this really should have. It’s the custard. No one can resist it.

The same can be said about the whole dining experience. Sometimes you visit bistros to find that they are more fine dining than French provincial. It can be a disappointment. Ponsonby Road Bistro does not have this problem. Indeed, it was a delight to be welcomed off the street into a restaurant where your needs are carefully considered. They understand why you have chosen to eat there. Our excitement was not in vain.

You should really try it. But a booking is recommended.

On a rainy Auckland night, high above the faded grandeur of a century-old Jervois Road flat, two gourmets decided to embark upon a challenge. It was pledged that they put stomach over pocket and visit every eating establishment listed in the latest Metro magazine top 50 restaurant guide by May 2011.

A commitment would need to be made and friends would have to be roped in. Without doubt, extra Zumba classes would need to be attended to allow for heavy consumption of saturated fats and carbohydrates.

The menfolk shared a look. Did this mean that their Friday nights at the pub were soon to be replaced by three courses and no cigar in suburban Mt Eden?

But the decision stood and the girls are not ones to back out of a challenge lightly. Especially if that challenge involves eating mouth-watering food, sipping on Central Otago Pinot Noir and ending an evening with ‘just a taste’ of pudding.

And so the journey begins, in no particular order, but with one goal in mind. Cover the restaurant aristocracy of Auckland in one year and enjoy the ride.

This blog is not going to be page after page of restaurant reviews. This is a food lover’s journey around the best of the city, telling tales and getting inspired to cook along the way. It’s about taking pleasure in the edible things in life in that so very French way. The people, the tastes, the sounds and the joy of being among others in the one place everyone but the chef can relax – the dining room.

Or you can take it for what it is. It’s one more way to make the daily grind just that little less horrendous. The glass will always be half full - preferably of champagne - on this page.