Diners wore card "glasses" which effectively blindfolded us, and the dining room was darkened.
We were led individually to our tables and had to introduce ourselves to our neighbours, whom we could not see.
Julie Biuso, Auckland food writer, had designed the entree and main.
Having ruled out things with bones or soups which would be difficult to eat, she chose items with different flavours, aromas, textures and sounds, she said.
She led us in gently with an entree of three little nibbles to be eaten with our fingers in a particular order.
First a very crisp crunchy crostini with a flavoursome tomato and bean puree, then a couple of little dolmades (vine leaves wrapped around rice) and a salty zucchini and feta frittata - all distinct flavours and textures, though not necessarily easy to identify.
The main, eaten with a knife and fork, was more difficult to manage.
My first few forkfuls turned out to be empty despite trying to follow "that blind woman" Julie Woods' hint to tap around the meat with the knife to find out how big it is.
Other forkfuls ended up either with just a morsel or else a large piece of the beautifully tender cumin-rubbed lamb.
Someone at my table admitted to spearing the whole slice on his fork and eating it that way.
The accompanying creamy potato-and-Gruyere gratin, peppers in balsamic and green beans with mustard butter were a little easier, although I suspect some of the beans may have got away.
The whole experience was made easier by the well-trained wait staff, who wore head-lamps so they could see.
Not only did they lead us to our tables, explaining the turns as we went, but also told us what was going on.
"Your wine glass is on the right and water glass next to it."
There would be a gentle tap on the shoulder and a voice saying "I'm putting your main in front of you" or "Would you like your water glass topped up?"
Two actually blind people at our table were thrilled.
It was not the type of service they normally found in restaurants, they said.
