There just aren’t enough restaurants in London so we had to go to Sydney to review one.
With a hotel based in the glamorous, crack-ridden area of Kings Cross I consulted the Internet for some lunch.
Searching the ‘sydneyeats’ hashtag on Twitter ‘The Butler’ popped up, a French-Carribean place. Their bio revealed a Potts Point location very close to the hotel. My hotel actually claims to be in Potts Point, it’s not, but then heroin probably does cloud your judgement.
I found it, asked for a table for one and was seated in the pleasant outdoor patio area.
If I glanced to my left I could see the city skyline, but there was also a couple of gentlemen enjoying a jug of Pimms to the left, so I mainly looked forward and at my phone as not to cause any trouble.
I ordered a cocktail a ‘La Mule’ – vodka, lime, angostura bitters, fresh basil and ginger beer – and consulted the menu.
It’s supposedly a sharing menu, but there was only one of me, so I would have to share with myself. If sex by one-self is masturbation, perhaps eating a sharing menu to one-self is gasturbation ™FoodieBoys.
I was informed at least three of the things on the menu were big enough for a main
meal for one person. I opted for the veal, concerned it wouldn’t be enough I also ordered a side of the broccoli with red onion, bacon jam and almonds.
The good: The veal. Well cooked, and if someone had asked: “if you had to guess what country the flavours this meat is trying to represent, what would it be?” You may very well have answered “the Caribbean.”
The bad: The broccoli. Now, red onion and bacon jam is a good thing. Who doesn’t like red onion? Who doesn’t like bacon? That’s right, nobody. HOWEVER, that doesn’t mean that it automatically makes any dish interesting.
I expected a plate of tenderstem broccoli with a gentle brush of jam and sprinkling of almonds on top. I got a bowl, with a whole head of baked broccoli in that was smothered in the jam, so much so the bowl was swimming in jam residue, and some almonds on top.
I had a first bite and thought, “crikey, mate, that’s not nice.” Then I thought, no, what’s not to like, try again. I went again, “Fuck, no, no, I was definitely right the first time.”
The almonds were purely decorative, and the broccoli a waste of time, nothing could compete with the over powering flavour of the jam. It was an absolute bloody shocker.