Christchurch chef Darren Wright is among the team of eleven who will compete for New Zealand at the Culinary Olympics in Germany.

The toilets are behind the blue curtain. Take the door on the left. "Don't go into the kitchen," warns Lauraine Jacobs. "Or you'll be given a tea towel."

The food writer turned master of ceremonies is directing human traffic from the top floor of the Auckland Viaduct Event's Centre.

Out front, the twinkling lights of the harbour skyline. Out back (the door on the right), fluorescent glare bounces off stainless steel bench tops and pristine chef's whites.

"You are on the beginning of a journey," Jacobs tells the assembled crowd, "Of a New Zealand culinary team who can make a big splash throughout the world."

In October next year, eleven Kiwi chefs will compete at the international Culinary Olympics in Erfurt, Germany. Two challenges await the team: a culinary and pastry art programme (canapés must weigh between 10-20g, etc) and a three course "hot kitchen" programme.

It's 28 years since New Zealand last went to this event. First, they must practice. Eight dinners around their home country, honing flavour, technique and teamwork, beginning in Auckland, Saturday a week ago.

"We have riches other countries only dream of," says Jacobs. "Nobody lives more than 20 kilometres from a farm or 200 kilometres from a vineyard . . . "

Entree is served - but should the prawn be swapped for scampi?

First course: tiger prawn salad wrapped in scallop cannelloni with seared scallop, bacon powder, pickled fennel puree and sauce vierge.

Imagine, says Jacobs, busloads of tourists coming here for the food. "Our government," she says, "Has a history of seeing tourism as adventure and thrill seeking . . . and, lately, bloody hobbits."

Second course: Salmon fillet on seaweed and vegetable salad, miso mayonnaise and gion dressing.

In the kitchen, the Olympians slice and stir, quenelle and coat. They are sponsored by Fonterra and they are from cooking schools and restaurants around the country: Steve Le Corre, John Kelleher, Darren Wright, Mark Sycamore, William Mordido, Richard Hingston, David Schofield, Ken O'Connell, Corey Hume, Jie Min Aw and Brian Bae. At 8.50pm, a call goes up: "All set for 9 o'clock mains". Third course: Roasted spiced venison loin with creamed spinach, carrot and cumin gel, potato bread and butter pudding, duxelle, carrot and a venison neck tart.

"What could be more New Zealand than venison," demands Jacobs (who, just quietly, reckons the chefs should swap prawns for scampi in the first course). That tart? "It's like the pastry just went away."

Viognier. Chardonnay. Syrah. Third wine match in and around the round tables lit by candles placed inside paper toques, guests are getting chatty. Fourth course (mushroom and cream cheese pate with gruyere espuma and parmesan biscuit) does not fare well. "It'd be nice with a wad of steak," declares Phil with the English accent. Red wine is splotching plates, the pats of butter have been knifed into soft submission. At the podium, Jacobs is reading out the competition rules as established by the German hosts: "Slices of meat must be arranged with the cut side in the direction of the beholders." Google the event on a smart phone under the table. There's a world map, made of food. Australia is an apple and two kiwifruit. New Zealand, inexplicably, is constructed from a pair of pistachio nuts.

The pudding that tasted like a jelly tip - vanilla parfait with raspberry sorbet.

It's almost 11pm. There will be vanilla parfait with raspberry sorbet and (deep breath) hazelnut dacquoise, coconut and popping candy chocolate crumb, mango jelly, passionfruit curd, whipped chocolate mousse and dark chocolate fondant.

New Zealand on a plate? One diner notes with excitement: "It tastes like a jelly tip!"