Octo

The Verdict

The perfect place to go on a Friday night with pals should have three things: good music, good drinks and food that is a little bit better than it needs to be considering how good the first two are. Octo is the manifestation of this in a way I have never quite seen before. It is the new Aro Valley listening bar where carefully selected records are matched by proper, adult drinks and a kitchen that is operating in a way that makes bar food something worthy of exaltations. 

This trifecta comes not by accident, but by design. The three sides of Octo are split between three passionate owners that each bring their expertise to the table. Ben James, record store owner, is responsible for what comes through the speakers. In the kitchen, Zuyi Woon, the person behind Aotearoa’s only manual coffee shop Twist and Pour, runs the food offering, while licensee Jeremy Hollis is responsible for what goes on behind the bar.

And what a bar. A small, dark room with records lining the walls old fashioned library style, complete with a rolling ladder on wheels and 80s tv monitors dotted around playing obscure visuals. The decks are built into the end of the bar and are hooked up to a proper sound system meaning there is the kind of atmosphere that makes you want to order another drink before you have finished the first. Professional DJs turn up on the weekends, while weekdays have more of a freestyle approach. What’s so beautiful is there is no great ceremony to any of it; you sit down, the music starts doing its thing and eventually somebody puts a plate of chicken hearts or an enormous pile of curry-covered chips in front of you.

It’s then you realise you might be staying for a while.

The drinks are a big part of that. Octo has taken the listening-bar idea seriously, building a drinks list that feels playful without descending into the sort of cocktail theatre that requires a waiter to explain what is happening whilst navigating the ludicrous crop of garnishes weighing the whole thing down. There is a real sense of drinks being made to accompany the room rather than interrupt it, neat small glasses of liquids that shimmer and evaporate away. There is an exceptional, short wine list too — bottles like Halite LDW let you know this is the kind of selection that has been designed by someone who understands contemporary wines of Aotearoa. Any bar that has Brave Brewing’s Tiger Milk is also certainly worthy of further exploration.

Then there is the food, which is where things get unexpectedly serious. Ever since dining at P Franco in East London I have been excited by the restraint imposed by a small kitchen. Here it is a ludicrously tiny spot at the end of the bar with a couple of hibachi grills and a deep fat fryer. What they do with it is something quite magical. 

Take the chicken hearts; they arrive threaded on skewers and dusted with yuzu pepper. At first it seems like the spice has completely taken over. Then, almost as quickly as it arrived, it fades, leaving behind the clean perfume of citrus. It is a tiny little trick, but a good example of what Octo does well: familiar ingredients nudged just far enough sideways that you suddenly notice what they are capable of.

The karaage is another good example. It is not trying to be the loudest, crunchiest piece of fried chicken in Wellington. The coating is thin, the meat has that softer, more yielding texture that good karaage should have, and a sesame-spiked slaw with Japanese mayo on the side, which keeps you going back for more. 

And now the chips. 

I am fairly sure chips have reached the point where there is nothing left to say about them. Octo apparently disagreed. These are deeply crinkled, aggressively crisp things covered in curry seasoning, curry leaves and cheese, with a curry mayo that somehow manages to get itself into the equation without making the whole thing too much. They are ridiculous. They are extremely good. You should order them.

The lamb skewers are a little more restrained. They have been blasted over charcoal until the edges are fierce and smoky, but the seasoning is gentle enough to leave the lamb in charge. There is cumin, there is fat, there is sweetness and there is a little pile of spice left in the corner of the plate that you will absolutely end up eating with your fingers.

That balance is probably what makes Octo work. Nothing feels as though it has been designed to impress you. The food is familiar, the drinks are approachable, the music is there because someone genuinely cares about what’s coming out of the speakers and the room feels like somewhere you will want to become a regular. If you can get a seat.