ABOUT BURNT SPERM, BEAUJOLAIS, AND BOULCOTT STREET BISTRO.

Cactus Kate is in town - they tell me. And she reckons our Wellington coffee tastes like burnt sperm. For someone with extremely high class standards she swallows a lot. Come to think of it if they were burning it means they were travelling too fast, so she must elicit a quick conclusion to the down and dirty.

Anyway we have had a good week. First up was Arbitrageur. Stunning it was and Wellington is undoubtedly the Oasis in the desert of Recession. The bloody place was chocker and we were not the only ones drinking Laurent Perrier fizzy. The Pork Belly was tender, gooey and melty unlike the dry stuff we had at Dockside the other day.
Then last night we holed up at Duke Carvells - and we drank a lovely, yummy, bollocksy Pinot Gris from Alsace, which is always much more sophisticated than our ballerina light versions that dominate the NZ Pinot Gris Scene. We had all sorts of tasty morsels and apart from the squid which has been away from the Sea for just a little too long - they were great.

We also met some mates at Beaujolais for a quick glass of - you guessed it bubbles.

Today we were at an old favourite Boulcott St Bistro and we let the wise and very interesting Rusty guide us to the best selections. We had a stunning buttery tripe entree followed by a very meaty Duck confit . We were all girly again and drank a nice drop of Taittinger. Sweet stuff was a chocolate pot with cherries that exploded in your mouth.

We had forgotten how good the place was - we will save up our pennies for a return trip soon.

And for those who like a good fizz, Boulcott does half price bubbles on a Monday.