China Republic in World Square. Lofty title and grandiose interior for dishes that wouldn’t make the grade at the smaller local eateries, such as Mama Chu’s, Shanghai Noodle, BBQ King or the perennial favourite K-BBQ.

The entree of pancakes, tasted like the frozen variety and were served like-warm. The live barramundi was chewy and tasted as if had been stewed in one of those live seafood tanks typically found in Chinese restaurants, the glass growing grimier and the fish more demoralised as each day passes. The duck pancakes were passable but was accompanied by a shallow ration of hoisin sauce.

The New Zealand beer and cider were nice to sip while we bitched and moaned.

As I reviewed our progress by the end of the meal, I was reminded of a Woody Allen joke.

“2 women eating in the cafeteria were complaining about the good."Aren’t these eggs awful?” “I know!” her friend replied “And this bread is just stale! The food here is terrible!” “Tell me about it!” The other agreed heartily, “And in such small portions!”

That was us. We bitched and moaned and ate until all the food was gone!