Plates, Pubs and Pigs.

It irks me that Belgian food is not given its due hallelujah in this country. I assume it’s because not enough Belgians want to leave the motherland and bring recipes here, since they’re too busy with their national sport - eating. If there’s one thing the Belgians do right, its cuisine. The land that invented the French fry (did you know?) manages to serve up a ménage à trois of French, German and Italian flavours melded together into a distinctly fabulous taste of its own.  

As always, my interaction with food comes packaged with drama and I have memories attached to every meal I had during my stay in Belgium. Once, I was starving at lunchtime after a very long day, when my hostess announced she would be serving Endives (pronounces ‘ondeev’). ‘Endives!’ I thought excitedly. What a gloriously exotic name for a dish I imagined would be filled with sizzling goodness. She held up a large plate and my tummy groaned in anticipation. She set it down and my mouth groaned instead.

An onion.  

A single, large, penile-shaped, lettuce-y onion. 

I looked up at her in askance; perhaps she had missed something? She beamed back, interpreting my stare for amazement.  Sighing, I ate my onion, which, by the way, tasted better than I’d expected. 

If lunch was a dismal start then dinner was overkill. I showed off my complete incompetency in French by ordering something pronounced ‘Jhombone’ off the menu at a pub.  The waiter did a double take and looked at me suspiciously. “Pour vous, mademoiselle?” Was that a tinge of surprise I noted in his voice? “Oui” I sniffed, for it was the only word I knew. Minutes later he pushed out a slab of wood atop which sat an entire leg of pork larger than my barstool. My heart sank at the fact that I would now have to eat this monstrosity, since in Belgium leaving food on your plate is considered an insult. given that it all happened  quite a few years before my conscience high-kicked me into the struggling vegetarian I am today, I channelled my inner Obelix and set about eating what, frightening dimensions aside, was truly and utterly delicious. Amazingly, I managed to eat every bit, even if it did take me two hours and left me looking like the enormous pig whose leg I’d just consumed.  

One occasion had me trapped in a loo for over an hour, a trauma which the highly apologetic hostess tried to placate with a dish of frogs legs and snail that just sent me back to the toilet once I’d found out what it was. Another time I was served a fantastic lobster whose claw, thanks to my limited cutlery skills, ended up on my hostess’s head. A visit to a brewery had me, the ignorant, tasting a rackful of 15 beer varieties and singing bawdy limericks at the top of my voice on the streets of Brussels. Thank heaven the lyrics were in my mother tongue and not theirs, else I'd have been propositioned.

From meats to mussels and cheeses to chips, Belgian food is designed to turn you into a glutton. Try it out.  Just make sure you know French first.

Ich liebe die German Restaurant!

Yesterday the Doc and I celebrated another monniversary (monthly 'anniversary'). Yes... we are both pathetic suckers who take joy in the fact that our relationship has made it for another month, despite having dated for quite a number of years now. It's our 'thing'. Heh.

So, in the spirit of celebration we pondered over where to have our ritualistic romantic dinner. An office colleague suggested we try the German Restaurant (a.k.a. Bavarian Barn) on Galle Road and order their spare ribs.

Now, I'm one of those gals who eats alot. A hell of a lot. And as much as I feel queasily guilty every time I eat a dead animal, I still hipocritically savour the taste of meat- especially spare ribs. It is my curse... to act as an advocate of animal rights and then salivate over a good plate of ribs. Needless to say, quandary aside, I jumped at the chance to try this particular menu out, given that the last time I had proper german-style ribs was when travelling in Belgium. (Those ribs warrant an entirely different post.)

I was promised a dish that was to die for; my colleague claimed that he and his wife couldn't even survive one portion of it when they'd gone last.

So with much anticipation and plenty of saliva glands overworking themselves, Doc and I took a trip to the GR. This wasn't my first time going there, but I figured I'd offer you a few 'reviewer-like' words on the place itself.

I personally love the ambience at the German Restaurant. Someone argued that it was too dark and creepy, but I think that's part of it's charm. It reeks of a typical Deutsche pub-ness, with it's chunky dark wooden furniture and ale-house atmosphere. I adore the privacy and intimacy it affords to its diners, even though sometimes creeping behind the cloistered furniture and actually getting your butt ON your seat can be a task. restaurant-wise, the decor and atmosphere are truely unique.

Now, onto the topic of the night - the food.

Wow wow wow wow wow.

Have I said enough?

Everything we ate was delicious. The spareribs, though not on the menu, is a house speciality that you have to ask for. I am SO glad I did, because they were divine. Thought not as large a portion or as extensive as I was made to believe by my colleague, it was definitely very fullfilling in every way. They were cooked to perfection in an awesomely drippy BBQ sauce and served with an enormous load of roasted potato wedges that I couldn't finish. I got three big, luscious ribs and this mountain of potatoes along with a healthy portion of salad for the price of Rs. 1000/-, which although slightly high, was definitely worth the fare.
I hate when ribs are overcooked or too crisp, and these were just up my street- juicy, soft and oozing with taste. The only other place I've had such fantastic spare-ribs in Sri Lanka is the Cheers Pub at the Cinnamon Grand.

Doc opted for the herb marinated grilled pork chops, which was equally sublime. One thing's for sure... this is one restaurant that never skimps on the amount of food they serve- a truly German experience. Because we're both greedy, we shared with each other so nothing went untasted by both. Our greed also led us to actually finish every morsel on our plates, a feat that we'd not have accomplished had it not been for the chef's skill at creating such delicious food.

At the end of the evening, we were too full, drowsy and heavy to even think of getting out of our seats. Even our satisfied burps were erm... burped... with effort, because physical movement of any kind was unthinkable.

Food always tastes so much better when in the right company, and I am mighty glad I had my first dibs at the GR spare-ribs on my monniversary with the Doc. The experience was that much more delicious.

So here's to more monniversaries and more gorging at the Bavarian Barn!

Prima Taste-less?

Wednesday night saw the family and I trying out a new restaurant in Colombo. We occasionally get into this sudden fit to experiment at the risk of disappointing our wallets and stomachs. This time's venue of choice was the new Singaporean place in Rajagiriya, named 'Prima Taste'. Decisions were made based on the rave reviews I'd seen in some city magazines, as well as personal recommendations from friends who'd tried it out. So off we went, salivating at the thought of some authentic S'porean goodies. The last time I went to Singapore in 2005, I ate so much good food that I still haven't gotten the tastes out of my memory, so you can imagine how hyped I was about the chance to experience it all over again.

The Venue

The restaurant itself is quite spanky (Probably because it's still new...local eateries have a tendency to lose interest in their interior upkeep after a few years), and is very much Singaaporean in atmosphere. Pristinely sanitary looking white dining areas, with minimalistic decor and furnishing, finished off with some flourescent blue lighting accents and a large black & white mural of metropolitan Singapore adoring one whole wall in each dining section. The finishing touches of large single-glass window panes with dark wood square latices brings it all together to make the diner forget that Sri Lanka is out there. No doubt there has been Singaporean involvement in designing this interior.

The Menu

I feel I must make mention of the menus too. This was the first time I'd seen menus that made me so hungry. Classy and international in look and feel, they carry full-page pictures of succulent dishes, and look very much like those gorgeous recipe books that we buy off the shelf and use for eye candy alone. Plus, it is worthy to note that every single dish listed on the menu was authentic to Singapore, which is a very pleasant surprise to a diner like myself, who, through previous experience, expects the same old local-chinese fare to be presented. My excitement mounted when going through the menu here, and the mouth began to water at quite a speedy rate.

But that's about as far as the positive element of the night went.

The Rest

When you've got the winning combination of a fabulous looking restaurant teamed up with a menu that can drive the patron crazy with desire, then the worst thing you could do is kill all that expectation you've built up with a lacking end delivery. Unfortunately, this is what Prima Taste did to me.

For starters (pun intended), nothing I ordered was available. I went through around six different dishes (when, mind you, the list isn't all that extensive either) before we came to one that was actually available. And it was quite ridiculous too. For instance, we ordered the black pepper crab (signature dish, as boldly displayed on the menu), were informed that it wasn't available, but we could try the chillie crab instead. How on earth could a restaurant have the crab available, but not the pepper?? Then they said they could serve me laksa noodles, and not fried noodles, as I ordered. EH?!? It's the same noodle, man! With the same preparation, except for a soup being added to one... the one you COULD serve me! A giggly, blushing and highly embarrassed looking waiter informed me that my incredulous looks were nothing compared to what he'd gotten from other diners for the last month of operation. It almost made me feel sorry for the man.

At one point, everything became quite hysterical. During his stammering explanations as to why they could serve only 25% of the menu, the waiter revealed that everything was still in Singapore. That included the chef and the manager, in addition to the pepper crab. Not able to hold it in any longer, my entire family just burst into teary fits of giggles. When asked why they gave us such a glorious display on the menu, we were told that the menu's came from Singapore too. The laughter just got worse.

Then there was the incident with the oysters.

The menu presented a dish of oysters with chillie prawns. Dad asked the waiter if this was available, and we were promptly informed that it, in fact, was. He was quite proud about it too. The conversation went something like this-

Dad - "Do you have the oyster dish?"

Waiter- " Yes sir. Oyster is available"

Dad - "You're sure no?"

Waiter- " Yes sir. We have the oyster dish"

Dad - " Are they good oysters?"

Waiter- "Very good, sir."

Dad - " You're sure they're fresh, right?"

Waiter- "fresh oyster, sir. Oyster hondai (good)."

Dad - "Ok. Bring us one portion of it."

Fifteen minutes later, he brought us a fancy presentation of six chillie prawns. We dug around looking for oysters, but found only a weak-looking salad leaf underneath.

Dad - " Ko oysters??" (Where are the oysters?)

Waiter - " Why sir... oyster sauce, no, sir?"

Guess how much sniggering erupted at THAT point.

All in all, the fare served last night was, to me, a disappointment. We had the laksa noodles that tasted very much like packeted soup noodles, Singapore fried rice that hadn't any salt, chicken satays that were far too sweet, oysters with chillie prawns that you now know about, and Singapore Chillie Crab that... well... didn't have any chillie in it.

It all made sense when, on our exit, we spied a counter selling ready-to-cook packs of Prima spice mixes for each of the dishes lined up on the menu. As expected, the black pepper crab mix, amongst some others, was missing. I have to admit to some indignation. When I choose to pay a restaurant, I would prefer if some chef used his skills and made me the food from scratch rather than done what I could easily do at home for a pittance of the cost. And what then, I ask, is the point of having the Singaporean chef in the first place?!?

I should also warn any future patrons of the place that their costs exceed their service, and we ended up with a bill that gave us more pain than the ache that all the laughing left in our tummies.

And so, in a nutshell, Prima Taste ended up being the dining experience that is definitely not authentic to Singapore, even though several other elements would have been. If you feel like trying it out for yourself, I would advice you to call first, and make sure the chef is around.