The importance of being Ernest
Fooling around in this town’s hottest spots when they’re luxuriously quiet
On a hot sticky Thursday night in early November, we turned up late (not that late – perhaps eight) to the private preview of Made. Made is wonderful, but one thing that has been abundantly clear from the outset (and good for them) is that they have no interest in inhabiting the late-night ecosystem. There is, therefore, no fashionably late. There is just late, and by the time we arrived, drinks were already emptied, platters were cleared, and even the shutters on phones of influencers were starting to slow.
We rode an uber with windows down into town and bowled into Ernest – where we had the bar to ourselves. Not just the bar, the whole venue. This is like ICU-level or daycare-level hospitality – where the staff to punter ratio exceeds one-on-one. All bars have their quiet times – and any dumb-dumb can be a regular on a busy Friday or Saturday night. A true regular, a ride or die, frequents a bar at any moment. This is what weaves you into the fabric of a place.
Good, high-end bars – when empty – always have a completely different feel to their peak traffic spikes, and Ernest takes on the feel of an excellent hotel bar. You might be here, in this beautiful empty place, because you’re jetlagged and out of sync with the locals around you. You might be here, without your crew, because you’re across the other side of the world on your way to an assignment in your pretend inner life as an international war correspondent. If you’re alone, and a woman, with any luck you might be mistaken for a sex worker. In Hamilton where that kind of hotel just doesn’t exist that may sound like an underhanded insult; it’s not. For the full experience, sit at the bar.
For an even better experience, sit at the bar of an empty bar and eat at the bar of an empty bar. We have long felt like the menu at Ernest is completely underrated. On the night in question we ordered the salmon tartare, with horseradish, fennel, and served with chips. We also recently had the 1kg Picanha Steak, with mustard and bone marrow butter, which is rich and satisfying and will soak up a lot of acidity and booze of whatever else you're imbibing. And there is rarely a trip where we walk away without having had at least an oyster or two. Ernest have two new set menus - one at $80 a head for two with dessert for a further $15 per person, for groups of more then eight and less the 24 people. And a snack menu for an unbelievable $20 a head, also for more than 8 people. If you’re not eating at Ernest, you’re missing out.
And while a bar in full flow is a thing to behold, part of this late night off-peak performance is the breaking of the fourth wall; this is where you start to get intimate with your chosen bar. The bartender might make you something they’re working on. You might see them fill up syrups, strain powders and sugars, polish glassware. The slow (and if they’re good, discrete) clean up around you. On the night in question Roberto, who can be seen in and out of focus tending to, or in the background behind, his cocktails on Ernest’s Instagram, took us through his collection of 10 - 12 different bitters including a mint one that tastes like toothpaste, kindly, because I’m always annoying bartenders about what they’re using so I can stock my own liquor cabinet at home. The conversation pivots between the two of us in the bartenders company, and the two of us with the bartender, and so even the private conversations feel a little performative - in a good, slightly pressured way, in the kind of way where conversation is a prized art.
For our money, Ernest’s bar menu is not only one of the best bar menus in town, but one of Hamilton’s best menus overall. Drop in during one of their quieter moments for the full off-piste experience.
