Random Play by Graham Reid

Dammit, you're right.

It's ages since I had a long lunch, and longer since a festive season passed without one. Where is my Prego? I had a Prego last Christmas.I wonder if this year no one wants to appear extravagant. Still, there is time.

One of my favourite Pregos was with someone I worked for, just the two of us. We talked and talked and eventually got on to the days our respective fathers died.

"I don't think I've ever told anyone that before," he said at one point, looking surprised.

That's what long lunches are about.

Ah the 80's long lunch, I was at Communicado and some days it was a long breakfast. I remember one morning after a Lion Nathan night shoot and all the product had been delivered the night before. The kicker was any product that wasnt used had to be disposed of ...somehow? And when I say product it wasnt a case or two.
The conviviality flowed all day.

You know, I've *never* had a long lunch?
Comes of never being a corporate person, or member of a Wellington government department, I guess...

BUT! Our hangi/umukai here in the OFR are more than the equivalent: we do 'em on significant birthdays, or over the festive season. They atart with woodgathering the day before (always good for some wine or whisky afterwards)and go on the next day through the
*cutting of the grass
*ceremonial clearing of the pit
*setting up the fire & placing of the bricks
*packing of the baskets
*frantic wetting of the sacks etc. & placing of the baskets
*even more frantic covering of aforesaid & shovelling of good earth over
*annnnd-2-3 hours of quiet chat and sometimes song & occaisionally raucous argument while the kai cooks
*and then -the feasting! The singing! The continuing conversations!
The fireworks & obligatory falling-down-drunk are optional-

I think the 90s and ERA killed the Long Lunch. In the 80s we loved our LLs (usually LLLs) but after I got a job in gummint and National got back into power, bang, the LLs were over. And many a restaurant struggled.

In the 80s I had drinking buddies who were journos and they drank and smoked most of the day away (then worked all night I suppose?). Then years later I got a job in a news room and not a long lunch or drop of alcohol (and definitely no cigarettes) was to be seen. It felt like the room was full of revovering alcoholics and reformed smokers.

Pity the youf of today who will never experience strolling back to work at 3:30pm in time for afternoon smoko.

Maybe it was an IT industry thing, but when I was at IDG (1994-97)there was a long and somewhat dishonourable tradition of long lunches. Not just the journalists but the whole staff. (Russell may remember these) The firm would shout all the staff three times a year. Hire a temp to staff reception, book a restaurant.

Usually a different restaurant each time. By and large the restaurants weren't all that amenable to return visits. Kind of like the Romans not wanting the Visigoths back.

Maybe it was an IT industry thing, but when I was at IDG (1994-97)there was a long and somewhat dishonourable tradition of long lunches. Not just the journalists but the whole staff. (Russell may remember these) The firm would shout all the staff three times a year. Hire a temp to staff reception, book a restaurant.

Oh yes! I lucked in one in my first week with IDG, and it was quite a spectacle. One of my favourites (a Christmas one) wound up with Rob O'Neill and I and several others drunkenly playing 7" singles in his flat. It was great fun, although we never did work out how those stains got on the ceiling.

They were a reflection of boom times, and of the distinctive culture of a privately-held multinational, rather than a corporation.

I think it eventually went down to two lunches a year, including Christmas, when the director, Martin Taylor would kick things off by dressing up as Santa and touring the office handing out presents.

Usually a different restaurant each time. By and large the restaurants weren't all that amenable to return visits. Kind of like the Romans not wanting the Visigoths back.

There were also IDG employees who opted to just go home early rather than join the madness. And there was the time when a certain middle-aged woman drove her car into a certain young man ...

RB, could you translate "Prego" for the benefit of... non Aucklanders, I presume? I'm intrigued.

RB, could you translate "Prego" for the benefit of... non Aucklanders, I presume? I'm intrigued.

Are you sure you're Italian?

It's probably symptomatic of the long unchanging twilight of postmodernity that Prego's still there after twenty-plus years. In case anyone thinks that LOL cats are a bit twee, Prego's predecessor was a vaguely themed establishment by the name of Toad Hall. There was something on the menu named Gamekeeper's Gumboots.

Once upon a time in an ancient Metro editorial Warwick Roger, in musing about the rich local multiculturality that lay beyond the magazine's scope, noted that dinner at Prego wasn't everyone's idea of a good time. I know this is true, because I once dined there with someone who took along her copy of Heidi to read so she wouldn't be bored. The waiter was really nice about it.

Are you sure you're Italian?

Clearly I am not. Nor is the person who called a restaurant in Auckland _Pompino_, I know this for a fact. Now, though, I want you to reassure me that Prego isn't next to Pompino. That would be bad.

Clearly I am not. Nor is the person who called a restaurant in Auckland _Pompino_, I know this for a fact.

FFS. Wonder if they offer free parking if you turn up in a pajero?

Oh, no, it's a classy joint. The name apparently derives from the fact that the original owners were an Englishman and a Filipino. Either that, or I'm very credulous.

RB, could you translate "Prego" for the benefit of... non Aucklanders, I presume? I'm intrigued.

Prego is a long-established restaurant on Ponsonby Road greatly suited to long lunching, and traditionally favoured by the media menagerie (although it is also a watering hole for the beasts of rock 'n' roll).

One cannot book a Prego, one must present oneself. The tables are set very close, although privacy is assured by the fact that it is sometimes so noisy that one may not always be able to hear one's own dining companions.

The food, neither cheap nor expensive, is always good, and the service equally so. My service there has been particularly sterling since the day I volunteered to coax a rogue television journalist out the door -- although not before he had gesticulated wildly and knocked a pewter tray of mints onto the tiled floor, thus abruptly commanding the attention of the entire restaurant.

At this point, Paul Casserly was heard to observe:

"Best. Prego. Ever."

Nor is the person who called a restaurant in Auckland _Pompino_, I know this for a fact.

Aren't they? I always hoped they were and were just having fun at the Kiwi's... I may open a restaurant in Torino called Blowjob.

Someone got to them:

Pompino Restaurant and Bar

Pompino closed its doors on the 28th February 2008.

We would like to thank you (our customers)for the 6 years that we were here.

We look forward to seeing you at the new "Traffic Bar and Kitchen" for more great times in the future!

See you soon.

All the Pompino staff.

There is a bicycle called a Pompino.

"Best. Prego. Ever."

Straight from the airport to Prego after 48 hours of Malaysian Airlines hell on Friday (it was a fairly large birthday party)

Sometimes I love being an Auckland-centric pinot gris quaffing jafa

Ooooh, long lunches. Weren't they just the best part of working hard?!! I remember them fondly and recall quite a few memorable ones at Prego ...
I think the fun somehow went out of it all when we became bridled with electronic leashes. One by one, people would turn up with cellphones (or PDAs or whatever) and these devices became virtual, if uninvited, lunchtime companions. Of course, they completely changed the dynamic because lunch partners suddenly became oh-so-accessible and pseudo efficient which didn’t go well with the basic premise of the long lunch.
It’s a shame really.

I think the fun somehow went out of it all when we became bridled with electronic leashes. One by one, people would turn up with cellphones (or PDAs or whatever) and these devices became virtual, if uninvited, lunchtime companions.

You know, I really think you're onto something there.

There were also IDG employees who opted to just go home early rather than join the madness.

I was usually one of those, for boring health reasons, especially during my time in the Auckland office.

The one time I wasn't I weaved back into the office at about midnight to pick up my bag.

The night phone was ringing and in a moment of foggy bonhomie I picked it up.

A very annoyed woman on the other end. "Is Martin Taylor there?" she demanded.

Without thinking I slurred "I think he's over the road in the bar."

"Is he." [not a question, more a declaration of war]

Slam of phone.

So if Martin's reading this, after 14 years - sorry, mate.

Ooooh, long lunches. Weren't they just the best part of working hard?!! I remember them fondly and recall quite a few memorable ones at Prego ...

Yeah but ,na but. Thing is plebs (workin' class, like meself) see a long lunch (noted by several pinot gris glasses at table at lunchtime,thus indicating time spent at table) as one is passing restaurant (Jervois Rd is particularly good for this) as an indication of a lazy unnecessary participant in whatever it is that they claim to be working hard for (hence requiring a long lunch at lunchtime anyway) :)