The Inglewood hotel

My apologies for yet another hotel review…I do actually eat at restaurants, honest. Just lately however, due to no fault of my own, my dining experiences have mostly been confined to Perth hostelry. I have a couple of other reviews up my sleeve, but metaphors desert me in trying to adequately describe them currently. They will have to wait until, sated with a large glass of Peregrine Pinot Noir I can convey my impressions without chewing my lip or pulling out my hair.

Hence…

As you know, we were kindly allowed a long weekend for Anzac Day, thank you creepy Colin Barnett (is it just me, or does anyone else think he bears a striking resemblance to a dead fish ie. slimy and wet?). After a weekend, in the house, hard at work hunched over my laptop, Monday was the one day Mr Kvetch and I got to relax and enjoy ourselves. So we decided on lunch, and after tossing around many a name, decided to stick close-ish to home and casual and went to the Inglewood. Now, I have been to the Inglewood a few times before, and always thought that it was overpriced for the quality of what you get. That said, they have a nice outdoor area, and the temperature and shade out there was PERFECT. It couldn’t have been better if I had rung ahead to define my specifications.

We arrived about 12:30, and it was reasonably quiet - we got served a drink at the bar with no waiting, and grabbed a table outside. We decided to order the Share plate ($29) and the Spicy chicken skewers with Nasi Goreng and fried egg, coconut and peanut sauce ($12), with a view to ordering more if we were still hungry. The bar was getting pretty busy at this point, but we were happy enough sitting outside and having a chat. Eventually two wait-staff walked by with what was definitely our meal, but they were looking for Table 130, and ours was 129. They went past us, and Mr K and I are pretty sure they wandered around the entire hotel, possibly stopping for a brief kip, before they checked the table numbers and presented us with our food. It was cold, not quite Antarctic in nature, but getting there pretty quickly. It had been on such an epic adventure before eventually reaching us, I am surprised it wasn't wearing Harrison Ford's hat.

Being the fair minded and accurate individual that I am, I am going to review the food as though it were presented to me as I assume it was intended, ie. Hot. The tasting plate had plenty of Turkish bread on it for the size of it, which is unusual in these carbohydrate-phobic (or just making up margin on bread) times. There were plenty of olives and a decent supply of feta. The feta was a bit tasteless, but then it generally is when you just open a packet and scrape it into a ramekin. The chili squid was surprisingly flavourful and tender, especially considering it was cold. I was expecting it to be like chewing a slimy elastic band. The strangest thing on the plate was the ramekin of rust coloured fluid, with a squiggle of black fluid at the bottom. You might think this was olive oil and balsamic, and that is what I thought too…at first. The rust colour I attributed to perhaps chili infusing, but I was wrong. Upon first taste, and I cannot believe I am writing this, I honestly thought they must have been recycling the deep fryer oil. I neither exaggerate nor prevaricate, that is EXACTLY what it tasted like. Mr K, when asked his impression, unprompted, gave the same response. In pursuit of truth, justice, and decent olive oil for all, I persisted in my examination, and I think, just maybe they might have infused the oil with black tea. That would account for both the colour, and the bitterness. Someone please ask them not to bother next time. My god but it was awful.

We interrupt this tasting plate description to comment on the chicken. There were ‘Moroccan’ chicken skewers on the tasting plate. There were also chicken skewers with peanut sauce on the Indonesian thingo. At the time of ordering, we wondered whether they could possibly be the same thing, but they were defined separately as Moroccan and Indonesian, and my slapdash research indicates that the two are separated by the Indian Ocean and the width of nearly the entire African continent. We could be forgiven for thinking they would be different. When the plates arrived, we noticed they looked suspiciously similar in colour and visible spice. Blind taste-tests did in fact confirm these were exactly same item, branded differently. As a side note, they were a good size, and the chicken was both nicely cooked and tender. The Indonesian dish had also a fried egg, nicely runny yoke (too bad it had frosted over subsequently), and a small portion of Nasi Goreng which was quite tasty, although slightly too many peas per capita of rice.

A bottle of Shaw & Smith Sav Blanc ($44) completed our meal, it could have been that, or the bespoke weather, but I didn’t feel as irate as I might have about the oil recycling or the chicken pulling a double shift.