Alister and Trader ( Jack Cooper ) have both been well known Wellington publicans in their day. Alister had the Cricketers Arms and Trader had the St George and the infamous 1860.
The gathering was at the Boulcott Street Bistro and what a fine occasion it was. It has been 30 years since the Trader had darkened the door and then the place was known as Plimmer House.
The food was spectacular - it was easy to to see the Rex Morgan touch - we have have long since regarded him as the master of meat and todays steak clearly showed that when it comes to offering up a good bit of boeuf - he is king in the kitchen. Trader, who has spent far too much time in the tropics - reckoned his pork belly was very fine indeed. Starters were also exquisite - most had squid but we had salmon. It was all smokey without a trace of bitterness and the celeriac will have us heading to Kings seeds next season to grow our own.
We supped on a Urlar pinot gris from Gladstone . For a start it shocked the palates of some but soon we all fell in love with its rich complexity. Its all we drank and drank and drank.
Desserts were sublime - mine was a rhubarb crumble in such a teeny tiny wee pot that it hardly seemed sinful at all. Trader and Te Thorpe dined on some exquisite cheeses which included a roquefort that was nastier than an unpaid dirty girl. And it smelled like one as well. Al had a line up of plump profiteroles pregant with cream all set about with chocolate. Trader inhaled one and Al hoovered up the rest before Trader could get another look in.
It was a fine day, fine food- great wine and great stories from some great Bad old Bastards.
And lucky old us - the boys picked up the very sizeable cheque...
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