Sidart's New Autumn Menu a Fine 'Discovery'

The dish team sample the new autumn degustation menu at Auckland fine dining jewel Sidart.

As a 26-year-old of average means, the vast majority of my dining out experiences involve dishes under $25 and a glass of the house wine – which, in a city with food as good as Auckland, has never disappointed me. But stepping into Sidart for the first time to sample their new five-course “Discovery” degustation menu, I suddenly thought maybe I’d been missing something.

Located on the upper level of a building down the Three Lamps end of Ponsonby, Sidart is a little bit hidden: you have to nip down past a chemist and a hair salon, head up the stairs, and slide open a discreet black door. But once you’re inside, it all makes sense. Seated in the middle of the dining room, we had a view over the full sweep of Freemans Bay; as the sun set during our meal, we watched the Sky Tower emerge glittering from the dark.

The meal began with a glass of 2016 Albert Mann Grand Cru Hengst pinot gris from Alsace, France, a mellow and fragrant drop that tasted precisely of happiness. As we sipped, the canapés arrived, presented in rustic bowls of nuts and seeds. 

The Discovery menu has been developed by long-time Sidart head chef and new owner Lesley Chandra, and it certainly didn’t disappoint. To begin with, we enjoyed tiny, crisp cones of Earl Grey-cured alpine salmon, its richness cut with fennel and horseradish, and moreish fried bites of spiced pig’s head terrine – crunchy on the outside and velvety within, dotted with smoked apple purée and starred with tiny fuchsia flowers. Both were standout mouthfuls. 

Next came a warm IPA sourdough bread roll each, accompanied with a little dish of golden Marmite butter. Admittedly, I’m a sucker for any bread course – who could not get excited about delightful bread? – but Sidart’s was exceptional, the bread impeccably fresh and bouncy-chewy; the butter the essence of umami. 

The first of the meal’s official five courses involved a swede – one of nature’s less attractive vegetables – transfigured into a dish of quiet poetry. Carefully pared into the shape of rose, it had been roasted to sweet caramel, set on a bed of savoury swede and yeast purée, swirled with a verjus gel and scattered with grapes and macadamia nuts. Our entire table, which up to that point had been enthusiastically discussing Will Smith’s Oscars slap, Sarah’s dating advice (“Don’t sit opposite your date at dinner, it’s confrontational”) and the merits of Tokyo tiny hotels, fell silent in appreciation. 

Our next course featured a delicately steamed piece of snapper, nestled on a tangle of impossibly soft confit leek and a funky prawn and scallop XO sauce and draped in a verdant, almost floral coconut and leek sauce. Artfully plated and gentle to eat, it was an ideal progression from the swede. 

The dry-aged duck course was another standout of the night – and perhaps the most visually beautiful dish we enjoyed. The rose-pink duck rested on a slick of crimson tamarillo kasundi, dotted with brilliant pickled onions and accompanied by a creamy cashew, cardamom and fenugreek sauce we could have drunk on its own. The tiniest hint of chilli brought the whole plate alive.

Next, we enjoyed venison from the bottom of the South Island, incredibly tender and smoky, and served with an inspired combination of fermented elderberries, pink oyster mushrooms and warming ’nduja. For meat-lover Liam, it was one of the best dishes of the night.

Dessert was an unusual and delightful smoked white chocolate and parsnip parfait, served with a hazelnut crumb and the last of the season’s raspberries. Like a salted caramel ice cream or chocolate and peanut butter tart, it walked the seductive line between sweet and savoury, and had both Sarah and Claire in raptures. Sophisticated, surprising and light, it was the perfect end to our meal.

Except there was more. Just as we were preparing to leave, our waiter returned with “tea and coffee” – a warm green tea madeleine and a coffee macaron each, as a playful final touch.

As we clambered out of our seats and began rolling home, gloriously over-full, I reflected that there was something to be said for fine dining – particularly when it’s not an everyday experience. The food we ate at Sidart last Tuesday was elegant, creative and delicious. But the ambience – the murmur of a full dining room, the glub-glub-glub of wine being poured, the twinkling city outside – and the service were part of the experience, too. We were warmly and courteously looked after by several members of the team, who unobtrusively refilled glasses, cleared plates, swept post-bread-course crumbs from the table and proudly explained the components of each exquisite dish.

All of which is really to say, if you’re looking for a special dinner, we could not recommend Sidart more highly.