Monday, 21 July 2014

House Restaurant, Altrincham.

Walking into The House Restaurant is like walking into a circus where all the actors have been trained by the Marx Brothers and have been forced to work with butter on their fingers; for not a moment goes by when one does not hear the smashing of glass, the breaking of cups, the destruction of plates, the spilling of wine.  Or, at least, that's what it felt like as I munched my way, nay, ground my way through my fillet steak with pepper sauce and "garlic" chips.  Note, dear reader, the inverted commas around the word garlic; for the chips went as close to garlic as a catholic priest goes to legitimate sex; and they were stodgy!  Not to worry, as the drinks arrive the entertainment is ratcheted up to 100 as they are spilled all over my friend's lap who annouces that her knickers are wet.  The boss, at this point, thinks it a good idea to advise that my friend "nips over t' salon across the way and ask to use the hairdryers."  Of course! 
Another friend of mine orders gnocchi (so we must not have too much sympathy for her) but she gets penne instead.  "I ordered gnocchi," she explains; "We've run out of gnocchi; we haven't served it for weeks," responds the waitress as she accidentally throws a melon through the window.  All apart the melon incident - true.
It's time for dessert and we're looking at the board and we all think it would be nice to have this and that and then the waitress explains that the desserts board is inaccurate and that the desserts that are actually on offer are in the desserts cabinet.  "Ok," we respond.  And then the waitress smiles at us, inanely, like her brain has suddenly popped off to the fabulous beaches of Torremolinos and left her body to take the flak.  We wait but she keeps smiling.  Feeling sorry for her I ask if there is Eton Mess; there is so we all order that to reduce her burden.  The Eton Mess portions are huge; no wonder the chef took an hour to whip the cream.  But it's tasty and we all manage to finish but not without the mandatory feeling of disgust and shame that one usually feels after eating a dessert so big it could solve the world's food crises for a day at least.
Not to worry, we left with our bellies full and our bodies intact and we were well entertained.  I just wish it had all been a little less shambolic.