Salad boats and shrimp cocktails: ‘Welcome back’ to the restaurant time forgot

“Out there it’s always changing, in here nothing does.”

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And really it doesn’t. From the menu to the decor, The Fishermans Table is suspended in time - specifically one when New Zealand’s restaurant scene largely consisted of shrimp cocktails, cauliflower cheese, and deep-fried squid rings.

Those were the days when your chicken came with apricot sauce, your salad with three sorts of beans, and your pavlova with passion-fruit topping.

The latter shut in 2014 and in 2016 Torrealba and wife Karym “had the privilege” of buying the former. They are only the fourth or fifth owners it has had.

The first was Presh D'Ath who used to have the Kaka Tearooms, near the summit of the Paekākāriki Hill Rd. When a long way below, the government began building a motorway between Pukerua Bay and Paekākāriki, she proposed another tearoom situated at the northern end of the new road.

Initially called the Centennial Inn, coinciding with New Zealand's centenary in 1940, its name was changed to The Fisherman’s Table in 1977.

As for the continued key to its success, where do you start? Initially Torrealba ticks off the million-dollar view and massive carpark as draw-cards, before getting into the nitty gritty.

The restaurant’s history is everything, he says. Because with data and other details spanning decades, the peaks and troughs of the business don’t come as any surprise.

Even today, when the war in Iran has promoted a “tremendous drop in sales” and the upcoming NZ election will surely do the same, Torrealba knows it’s a matter of staying the course.

“We’ve seen it over and over. After all these years the numbers are predictable and that’s why we manage, because we’re prepared.

“We know we have to tighten the reins a little in this or that area, and get out through the turbulent waters. And we do. ”

One of the most important factors though is that of cost. The restaurant pays its suppliers weekly and is realistic about what its customers both want and can afford.

“We start from the back - meaning we think ”what can people pay these days“and from there we come up with the prices.

“We don’t say ”this steak should cost $45“ because whose going to pay that for a steak? Not many.”

And then there’s the service, which is what he says The Fishermans Table really sells.

“You can have the best chefs but if the service is not good you will soon be closing. On the other hand, if you have food that is OK but service that’s great, people will come over and over because they’re welcomed in and acknowledged.”

The business employs between 40 and 50 staff, a lot of them part time, and many who have been there for years. One chef who left last year had been there for nearly four decades, while one of today’s servers is also a not-so old hand.

“She’s in her 20s now and has nearly completed her studies to become a doctor. She’s been working here since she was 16, it’s been so lovely to have her here. ”

Finally, perhaps, the real secret to this restaurant’s success is in the fishing nets on its walls, the ships in their bottles, the cavernous dining room, and of course the salad boat - that of the unlimited eating - that offers not only curried eggs but roast potatoes, cauliflower cheese and boiled carrots. It is all wonderful.

“That mornay sauce? It was popular in the 80s and a lot of people still come for it. We make 20 litres of mornay sauce everyday and it goes and goes.”

The measure of a restaurant is in its community, says Torrealba. This one has spoken and he’s all too aware of the danger of ignoring it.

“Why would you want to redo what works? A lot of people says this is exactly what it was like when they were 8 years old, so why would you want to redo nostalgia?

“There are so few places in NZ that you can go back to after 50, 60 years and find them unchanged. This place has been here longer than all of that, and it is still the same.“

This week I tell Torrealba that I was last here, oh, maybe 19 years ago. I remember it well - how the kids had burgers, chips, traffic lights and sundaes.

My partner had the pan-fried sole, me the vegetable lasagne, both of us returning again and again to the salad boat with its curried eggs, olives and beetroot.

“It is exactly the same,” he says on Tuesday. “Welcome back.”