Sunday, February 20, 2011
#253: Spanish Fly
The night started off well enough as we attended a birthday party for the Bear’s nephew, but then it went downhill from there. The restaurant that we gathered at is a famous and long standing one, in North Adelaide. I’ll call it Spanish Fly, but trust me, you all know it. I’ve been there several times and each time I’ve been treated well. Indeed, on one occasion, I went and got happily smashed because the barkeep was intent on trying out new Mexican cocktails upon me and my lady friend, gratis. Now that was an evening to remember, indeed some of that night is permanently shut off for me, but I recall waking up the next day with a lot of sore bits, so fun was had somewhere. But lately the place has gone right down the chute.
We finished eating and trust me, the food wasn’t that good. I’m sure that the ‘beef’ in my chilli was either cat or Chihuahua, because it didn’t taste like any beef chilli I’ve eaten before, and here’s a hint to the kitchen staff – COOK the rice. That generally helps. I’ve had better Mexican food in an Italian restaurant, but that’s life. For example, one of the kids ordered a serve of Nachos from the kids menu only to be served a plate of corn chips with melted cheese on top. That was a kids Nachos. We asked for some dip, salsa, anything, and after a look of disgust one arrived. $10 for a plate of chips with melted cheese? You got it bucko. Dinner mostly ate we asked for the cake. I wish we hadn’t.