After years of hearing about how fabulous it is, Mr K and I went to Le Paris Brest for lunch on Sunday…this was clearly the fatal error in our quest for a nice meal.
It was a lovely day, perfect for a drive, and on a Sunday it doesn’t take too long to get to Kalamunda from the city. We found it tucked away on Haynes St fairly easily, and it didn’t appear overly busy, but we stood there in the doorway like idiots for a minute or two while we tried to ascertain whether one seats oneself, or is seated. Eventually I grabbed a staff member who said, “sit anywhere” and we foraged for a menu on the front counter (it was not offered). The menu is small, and it was quite difficult to find something to eat. Eventually we decided we would get a gnocchi ($18.99) and a baby snapper ($24.99). No one came to take our order, so I went and stood in the massive line up at the counter (which would have been much smaller if it hadn’t been full of parties of retirees wanting to know the chemical composition of EVERY SINGLE PASTRY on offer). I tried to order, and apparently they were ‘out of snapper’, so we ended up with two gnocchi’s instead.
Mr K wanted a chocolate milkshake and I had heard their coffee was good so ordered a latte. Eventually (about 15 minutes, which considering their level of busyness did not fall into my ‘acceptable’ category),the milkshake came out. Mr K felt there was something missing, and after taste tests and discussion, he came to the conclusion it was the ‘chocolate’ part of ‘chocolate milkshake’ that was lacking, however, my coffee was good though scalding hot.
After waiting a bit more, the gnocchi arrived. A note about this; they obviously made them in the same pan at the same time, and I have no problem with that…but it was supposed to be with tomato, onions and olives - I got all of the olives, and Mr K got all of the tomato. The gnocchi itself was beautifully soft and very filling, even factoring in the absent sauce components.
Whilst we were eating, a couple seated behind us were brought menus and given table service, so I am not sure whether Mr K and I are sketchy looking specimens, or whether we were just so far under the median age of patrons it was felt we didn’t need to be served. Interestingly, the gentleman behind us tried to order the Pork Burger, and was told that it was being made with veal today, so I deduce the kitchen’s ordering procedures leave a little to be desired.
A note about the décor – fussy beyond belief..think Shabby Chic meets your Nana’s lounge room. There were a few nice bits and pieces – a set of vintage wall clocks, a couple of interesting block prints etc – but it was so cluttered with ceramics, plaques and other detritus littering the walls that we found it impossible to relax. It was clearly decorated (and I use that term in the loosest sense of the word) with a geriatric audience in mind. We didn’t sample the famed pastries – we would have had to line up again, and it was looking like another 10 to 15 minute wait in the queue from hell with Maude and Hazel and all of their friends from the home, oops I mean lifestyle village.
On the Ms Kvetch Annoyance Scale – this scored about a 7.5. Don’t bother unless a) your Nana wants a day out and b) you’ve dosed up on Valium or similar.
/end Kvetch
Showing posts with label Sunday lunch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sunday lunch. Show all posts
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
And for mains...
So, post-Core Luxury Retreat, we went for lunch at the Mundaring Weir Hotel. Neither of us had been there before, and we are rarely in the area,so we thought we'd check it out.
The first trap for young players is trying to find the cafe where you need to order your food. There are flights of stairs, vast unused dining rooms and chairs, more stairs,no signage and you feel like you are on a journey to the centre of the earth.
I like a period piece as much as the next Jane Austen fan, but this was no setting for Mr Darcy. The place feels really cluttered, and quite unclean. We eventually found the cafe/coffee shop and ordered wine and meals. They did not provide a bucket for the bottle of wine which was already warmish, and when we finally found a place to sit, we discovered one of the glasses was dirty.
Wanting to leave the building behind, we headed outside, and started the process of trying to find a table. Think of it a bit like an orienteering course, roped off sections everywhere, grass littered with the product of dozens of duck bottoms, bases for umbrellas haphazardly strewn about the place. They give you a vibrating buzzer thingo to let you know when your food is ready, and you have to re-navigate it all to get back to the kitchen.
Mr K had the Fisherman's Feast, which I had been considering myself (sunny Sunday, bottle of wine, how could you not contemplate fish and chips?), but I was grateful I didn't. At $23.50 for a pub meal, you would expect some fresh fish of some description, and the prawns/scallops/other seafood to be presentable. The prawns clearly came out of a box, but the scallop (yes,1) was intriguing. Obviously breaded, but with the most amazing shape. This was a diamond cut scallop, an absolutely perfect cross section of a cylinder. Unless nature has started producing scallops to some sort of QA specification I am not familiar with, I think we can assume it was artificial and processed. The crab stick was well, a crab stick. I can (almost) understand a suburban fish and chip shop selling this type of atrocity, after all, if you don't want it, you don't have to order it. But for a pub to include it comes under the heading of self-harm. To cap it all off the chips were limp and less than plentiful.
I, however, changed my mind at the last minute and ordered a Chicken Bruschetta wood fired pizza ($16.50). This turned out to be a wise choice, the sauce was tasty, the chicken appeared fresh, and the crust was appropriately crispy.
Despite all of above, the sun was shining, I had just had a massage, I wasn't at work (always a key ingredient to success), and I was quite prepared to be magnanimous, especially as my pizza exceeded my expectations. But I couldn't relax. It was akin to attempting to nap in the middle of the David Jones After-Xmas sales in Sydney or Melbourne. It isn't going to happen, and if it does, you should probably see your Dr.
The setting here is quite good, they have a niche with the location and the heritage value of the building, it could and SHOULD be so much better! They don't need to serve wanky over-priced meals, but good pub grub, served in clean vessels, would be a great start. And clean the place up - it’s a broken leg (or worse) waiting to happen.
What do you think? Have you been here? Was it a bad day, or this situation normal?
The first trap for young players is trying to find the cafe where you need to order your food. There are flights of stairs, vast unused dining rooms and chairs, more stairs,no signage and you feel like you are on a journey to the centre of the earth.
I like a period piece as much as the next Jane Austen fan, but this was no setting for Mr Darcy. The place feels really cluttered, and quite unclean. We eventually found the cafe/coffee shop and ordered wine and meals. They did not provide a bucket for the bottle of wine which was already warmish, and when we finally found a place to sit, we discovered one of the glasses was dirty.
Wanting to leave the building behind, we headed outside, and started the process of trying to find a table. Think of it a bit like an orienteering course, roped off sections everywhere, grass littered with the product of dozens of duck bottoms, bases for umbrellas haphazardly strewn about the place. They give you a vibrating buzzer thingo to let you know when your food is ready, and you have to re-navigate it all to get back to the kitchen.
Mr K had the Fisherman's Feast, which I had been considering myself (sunny Sunday, bottle of wine, how could you not contemplate fish and chips?), but I was grateful I didn't. At $23.50 for a pub meal, you would expect some fresh fish of some description, and the prawns/scallops/other seafood to be presentable. The prawns clearly came out of a box, but the scallop (yes,1) was intriguing. Obviously breaded, but with the most amazing shape. This was a diamond cut scallop, an absolutely perfect cross section of a cylinder. Unless nature has started producing scallops to some sort of QA specification I am not familiar with, I think we can assume it was artificial and processed. The crab stick was well, a crab stick. I can (almost) understand a suburban fish and chip shop selling this type of atrocity, after all, if you don't want it, you don't have to order it. But for a pub to include it comes under the heading of self-harm. To cap it all off the chips were limp and less than plentiful.
I, however, changed my mind at the last minute and ordered a Chicken Bruschetta wood fired pizza ($16.50). This turned out to be a wise choice, the sauce was tasty, the chicken appeared fresh, and the crust was appropriately crispy.
Despite all of above, the sun was shining, I had just had a massage, I wasn't at work (always a key ingredient to success), and I was quite prepared to be magnanimous, especially as my pizza exceeded my expectations. But I couldn't relax. It was akin to attempting to nap in the middle of the David Jones After-Xmas sales in Sydney or Melbourne. It isn't going to happen, and if it does, you should probably see your Dr.
The setting here is quite good, they have a niche with the location and the heritage value of the building, it could and SHOULD be so much better! They don't need to serve wanky over-priced meals, but good pub grub, served in clean vessels, would be a great start. And clean the place up - it’s a broken leg (or worse) waiting to happen.
What do you think? Have you been here? Was it a bad day, or this situation normal?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
