Dinner at the Fisherman's Table - The Substantially Edited Version

I spent the day with my Grandad today, caught the train to Paraparaumu and was picked up from the station by him and his wife Dorothy. It was a nice day (and 18C! Amazing!) and we did lots of grandparent related things, like walking along the beach, and visiting my Nanny and Auntie Steff's ashes, and drinking tea and doing crosswords. And looking at photo albums, where Grandad would tell me who people were and then conclude with "but she's dead now of course". In one photo he pointed out that he was the only person still alive out of a group of about eight. Strangely though, all this talk of death is not depressing... a little uncomfortable for the first two hours, but kind of ok after that. Grandad and Dorothy married after my Nanny had been dead less than a year and Dorothy's husband had been dead about a year and a half. They really are very sweet and they talk about my Nanny and Dorothy's husband Alex all the time because I suppose that both are still very present in their lives, both as individuals and as a couple. They also talk a lot about all the scary coincidences in their lives, like the fact that they immigrated to New Zealand on the same ship but a year apart in the 1950s, and that Grandad's thumbnail has the same injury-related bend as Alex's, and that Dorothy and Alex owned a shop in Titahi Bay when Nanny and Grandad were living there in the 1960s.

Anyway, it was Dorothy's seventy-something birthday yesterday and she was going out with her family for dinner at The Fisherman's Table, and I was very sweetly invited along. Its a funny thing with Dorothy's family in that I'm related to them, but know them a little less than most people to whom I'm related.

And indeed, they are a cast of characters, a cast that one might find in any small town in New Zealand. Dorothy's only male grandchild is named Matt. I suspect that he's an apprentice builder or something, but I can tell you something I do know: that boy is a Boy Racer, and his family lives in Denial. He had a summons for Court for Careless Driving, his explanation being that he "accidentally" hit the brake instead of the accelerator on a stretch of empty highway. Thus, he "accidentally" pulled a 180 turn and it was his bad luck that a cop saw him (insert father's guffaw here). Him and his girlfriend spent the whole time canoodling. Barbara (Dorothy's daughter) and her husband indulged in some casual racism during the meal which of course is always welcome with your potato croquettes.

Which brings me to the food. I guess that you get what you pay for, but I'm telling you, it's VERY family restaraunt (click on the link to see a menu... mmm, deep fried camembert). My Rib-Eye Fillet with Green-Pepper sauce came staked with a little flag that denoted it "Rare". This flag was red and featured an anatomically-correct cow silhouette. If I had a digital camera I would take a photo of this little flag, because I think it is Priceless.


So, this is the Fisherman's Table... dinner was like this only inside and in the dark during winter. But isn't the scenery nice?