I went out last night to a local Indian restaurant called The Spice Mill.
In advance of visiting I'd tried calling to discuss my dietary needs with someone, but had real problems getting the man answering the phone to understand me, so decided to try with the waiter on the night instead.
Let's deal with the good news first - the food was fantastic. The portions weren't as huge as many Indian restaurants do them for some reason, and they were fresh and beautifully seasoned.
Unfortunately the staff let it down. We had one waiter who had really good english, and was polite and helpful ... when he was available.
We asked for a jug of water at the start of the evening, and after the third time of asking, got some glasses of water during our main meal. We had to wait a fair bit between ordering, and courses, and had to try hard to get the attention of a waiter. On two occasions, getting that attention supplied us with some incomprehensible grunts - and no resolution to our requests.
When our main courses arrived, the waiter for some reason started picking through my friend's dish with a spoon, between handing each of the other dishes and rice to the table. We asked several times what the problem was, and were rewarded with more incomprehensible grunts before he ran away, taking the dish with him! Another waiter was next to our table as he ran, and my friend took advantage of him looking at us to say she didn't know why he took the dish (it seemed to be the correct dish). This waiter grunted something else, and then met the decent waiter on the way up the stairs. He turned to our table and we told him the waiter had taken a dish away with no explanation. He went to find out what happened. After a few minutes, a dish (looking like the same dish) was brought to my friend. He made a half-assed attempt of an apology and left - we are still completely in the dark as to what happened, and it didn't fill us with much comfort for the rest of the evening. Nobody came to see how we were doing and if everything was ok, and we were left for a fair amount of time again after our meals before we were asked if we wanted coffees or desserts. We were too disgusted to stay much longer by that point.
So, we had an enjoyable evening - because the company was good and we had plenty of time to waste (luckily enough). The meal was not overly expensive, and we were unimpressed with the presentation of a rose each as we left. We'd have preferred better service.
Our final verdict was that we'd eat the food again, but only from the takeaway service.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Al Pitcher's Picture Show
I went back to the Lemon Tree last night to watch a comedy gig. Al Pitcher isn't someone I'd heard of before, and the whole show was entirely enjoyable.
I managed to retain my mysterious mask of public invisibilty, so was spared the attention of this Kiwi comedian, who keeps the show very intimate and individualised for each town he goes to. He does this partly by turning it into a 'chat' with the audience and partly through a 'slide show' of photos he takes of each town he visits before that night's show. Unlike many comedians who abuse their audience as part of the show, Al Pitcher was very friendly, and people were mostly happy to respond and speak to him. Even my daughter and I were prepared at various points to add our comments, but each time we were either too slow, or someone changed the track of the discussion before we piped up. I've seen Aberdeen audiences brutally heckle comedians in my previous life at the Lemon Tree as door steward, so I knew if he didn't get the balance right, they had the capability to reduce him to tears.
His take on Aberdeen through the photos he took was highly amusing, and it seemed the only thing to cause anything close to offence in them was his commentary that Aberdonians (scots in general, really) will put anything in a pie. Personally, I think the lull didn't come from offense, though. I think people were just wondering if they should tell him to have a rowie for breakfast next day. This weird concoction, also known as a buttery, is a fatty, salty, pat of pastry that looks like it was scraped off the bottom of a grill and is unique to the Aberdeen area, I believe.
In any case, everyone participated happily - even the Irish schoolteacher who frowned severely on his ... banter .... about whether or not teachers are ever tempted to try it on with the kids. (There was a bunch of Irish lady schoolteachers in together, and he was surmising that although it's definitely nasty and condemned by the media when male teachers do it... it seems to be thought of as as very sexy, when the teacher's a lady). As you'd expect, not too many people were laughing hard at such jokes, and yet Al managed to turn it around, and was told by the lady before the break that he was very funny - even if those particular jokes weren't. :D
I expect that this show depends very heavily on the audience - by its very nature. The Aberdeen audience was split about evenly between actual Aberdonians, and immigrants such as myself and the Irish ladies, which may have helped the comedian out a little. I've found a similarity though, between my native Belfast and Aberdeen, in that they tend not to take themselves too seriously anyway. They were happy to sit back and laugh at the way Aberdeen looks to a tourist, and to join in the banter (or craic, as my lot would say).
So although we had not set ourselves any expectations, other than hiding if he was brutal with the audience participation stuff (which he wasn't by any stretch), both my daughter and I came home still smiling and laughing, having had an evening out that was as interesting as it was entertaining. We'd definitely recommend it, and would see him again if we get the chance.
I managed to retain my mysterious mask of public invisibilty, so was spared the attention of this Kiwi comedian, who keeps the show very intimate and individualised for each town he goes to. He does this partly by turning it into a 'chat' with the audience and partly through a 'slide show' of photos he takes of each town he visits before that night's show. Unlike many comedians who abuse their audience as part of the show, Al Pitcher was very friendly, and people were mostly happy to respond and speak to him. Even my daughter and I were prepared at various points to add our comments, but each time we were either too slow, or someone changed the track of the discussion before we piped up. I've seen Aberdeen audiences brutally heckle comedians in my previous life at the Lemon Tree as door steward, so I knew if he didn't get the balance right, they had the capability to reduce him to tears.
His take on Aberdeen through the photos he took was highly amusing, and it seemed the only thing to cause anything close to offence in them was his commentary that Aberdonians (scots in general, really) will put anything in a pie. Personally, I think the lull didn't come from offense, though. I think people were just wondering if they should tell him to have a rowie for breakfast next day. This weird concoction, also known as a buttery, is a fatty, salty, pat of pastry that looks like it was scraped off the bottom of a grill and is unique to the Aberdeen area, I believe.
In any case, everyone participated happily - even the Irish schoolteacher who frowned severely on his ... banter .... about whether or not teachers are ever tempted to try it on with the kids. (There was a bunch of Irish lady schoolteachers in together, and he was surmising that although it's definitely nasty and condemned by the media when male teachers do it... it seems to be thought of as as very sexy, when the teacher's a lady). As you'd expect, not too many people were laughing hard at such jokes, and yet Al managed to turn it around, and was told by the lady before the break that he was very funny - even if those particular jokes weren't. :D
I expect that this show depends very heavily on the audience - by its very nature. The Aberdeen audience was split about evenly between actual Aberdonians, and immigrants such as myself and the Irish ladies, which may have helped the comedian out a little. I've found a similarity though, between my native Belfast and Aberdeen, in that they tend not to take themselves too seriously anyway. They were happy to sit back and laugh at the way Aberdeen looks to a tourist, and to join in the banter (or craic, as my lot would say).
So although we had not set ourselves any expectations, other than hiding if he was brutal with the audience participation stuff (which he wasn't by any stretch), both my daughter and I came home still smiling and laughing, having had an evening out that was as interesting as it was entertaining. We'd definitely recommend it, and would see him again if we get the chance.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Friday Blues at the Lemon Tree
So, I've been out of cirulation for quite a while, and this week it got on top of me. I decided to take some positive action, and start getting out a bit more, even if it means alone (all but one of my friends being at least 500 miles away). Scary stuff.
I decided to start somewhere familiar to me. I used to go to The Lemon Tree quite regularly, and worked there as a door steward a few years back. Added to the facts that my ex husband was 2nd chef there, and I met my last partner there, it's a bit like revisiting an old home. None of the old staff remain, however - not even in the kitchen from what I could see (it's open to the restaurant), but the restaurant itself was as familiar and comfortable as I expected - despite a lovely fresh revamp on the decor.
I admit to hiding myself at one of my favourite old tables right at the back away from the stage and the bar and kitchen - but at least I was out of the house. :)
I started with a course of courgette, sun-dried tomatoes and haddock risotto, which was absolutely delightful. I had expected to spend a little time picking out the tomatoes, but luckily for me the description was wrong. These tomatoes were little loops of light, moist (definitely not any form of dried) tomatoes that left a lovely juice in the mouth. The courgettes were in nice big chunks and perfectly cooked so that they weren't crunchy, but not mushy either. The haddock was mixed in so that unless you had a piece on your fork, you didn't taste it over everything else; a difficult balance to achieve with fish. The rice had a few small forkfuls that were a little crunchy, but I don't mind that - I prefer it to a risotto that ends up all gooey and overdone, and it was only a few forks' worth. Overall I was really glad I chose that dish.
By now the band had started playing. They were called Papa Mojo and played a style of quite traditional blues music. They were mostly unobtrusive with just a few horrible jokes, and the music was great. One of the two singers apologised for a croaky throat, but I had enjoyed his songs more than the other as there was a slight Joe Cocker effect. Of course - I don't know if that's how he always sounds, but it was the kind of raspy blues vocal that I like. They mixed in a few songs that they said were by 'confused' blues musicians - with an element of gospel mixed in. I have to say they were the parts I didn't enjoy so much, but they didn't do enough of them to spoil the outing for me.
I was enjoying the music so much that I settled down for the whole show, and to follow my risotto I decided to set my diet aside, and had the orange creme brulee. This dish was absolutely heavenly. It had the thinnest crispest layer of burnt sugar, and under that was a light cream that was deliciously icy cold. It had the exact measure of orange in it so that the dish tasted light and creamy, and also refreshingly zesty. The only issue I had with it was that it was in a little ramekin, and served with a large dessert spoon! However, when my hot chocolate arrived in a tall glass, it came with a short teaspoon, so I was able to use that spoon for my dessert - it was basically useless for the drink.
At least both spoons were clean - I had to move my table settings around to get a clean fork (something I've encountered before at the venue). I found this ironic as I watched two waiters polish up heaps of cutlery while I was waiting to be served initially. I wasn't aware that it had changed to a system where you order your food at the bar yourself. There is a little menu holder on the table that says "Welcome to the Lemon Tree" on one side, and - as I later discovered because it had been turned to the back of the table and covered by a wilting paper menu - "Please order at the bar" on the other. I think they should put this information on the menu as well, or both sides of the menu holder to be sure it can bve easily seen. I wuold have suggested this to the guy I placed my orders with, but I have the distinct feeling it was his first day, and I didn't want to cause him more panic than he was already experiencing. He did ok with my queries about gluten free options, so I let him off the hook. The waiting staff were slow to clear away (I seem to become invisible in public places - the table next to me was attended to twice and cleared away on a third visit, while I sat with the same dishes clearly left aside to be lifted) but that's no big deal.
But - none of the latter comments spoiled my visit in any way. I felt relaxed, and the food was just divine, and the music was enjoyable and not overbearing. I would be happy to return, but more importabtly, it went well enough for me that I'm a little happier to venture to somewhere less known to me. Maybe I'll start reviewing such places a little more often. :)
I decided to start somewhere familiar to me. I used to go to The Lemon Tree quite regularly, and worked there as a door steward a few years back. Added to the facts that my ex husband was 2nd chef there, and I met my last partner there, it's a bit like revisiting an old home. None of the old staff remain, however - not even in the kitchen from what I could see (it's open to the restaurant), but the restaurant itself was as familiar and comfortable as I expected - despite a lovely fresh revamp on the decor.
I admit to hiding myself at one of my favourite old tables right at the back away from the stage and the bar and kitchen - but at least I was out of the house. :)
I started with a course of courgette, sun-dried tomatoes and haddock risotto, which was absolutely delightful. I had expected to spend a little time picking out the tomatoes, but luckily for me the description was wrong. These tomatoes were little loops of light, moist (definitely not any form of dried) tomatoes that left a lovely juice in the mouth. The courgettes were in nice big chunks and perfectly cooked so that they weren't crunchy, but not mushy either. The haddock was mixed in so that unless you had a piece on your fork, you didn't taste it over everything else; a difficult balance to achieve with fish. The rice had a few small forkfuls that were a little crunchy, but I don't mind that - I prefer it to a risotto that ends up all gooey and overdone, and it was only a few forks' worth. Overall I was really glad I chose that dish.
By now the band had started playing. They were called Papa Mojo and played a style of quite traditional blues music. They were mostly unobtrusive with just a few horrible jokes, and the music was great. One of the two singers apologised for a croaky throat, but I had enjoyed his songs more than the other as there was a slight Joe Cocker effect. Of course - I don't know if that's how he always sounds, but it was the kind of raspy blues vocal that I like. They mixed in a few songs that they said were by 'confused' blues musicians - with an element of gospel mixed in. I have to say they were the parts I didn't enjoy so much, but they didn't do enough of them to spoil the outing for me.
I was enjoying the music so much that I settled down for the whole show, and to follow my risotto I decided to set my diet aside, and had the orange creme brulee. This dish was absolutely heavenly. It had the thinnest crispest layer of burnt sugar, and under that was a light cream that was deliciously icy cold. It had the exact measure of orange in it so that the dish tasted light and creamy, and also refreshingly zesty. The only issue I had with it was that it was in a little ramekin, and served with a large dessert spoon! However, when my hot chocolate arrived in a tall glass, it came with a short teaspoon, so I was able to use that spoon for my dessert - it was basically useless for the drink.
At least both spoons were clean - I had to move my table settings around to get a clean fork (something I've encountered before at the venue). I found this ironic as I watched two waiters polish up heaps of cutlery while I was waiting to be served initially. I wasn't aware that it had changed to a system where you order your food at the bar yourself. There is a little menu holder on the table that says "Welcome to the Lemon Tree" on one side, and - as I later discovered because it had been turned to the back of the table and covered by a wilting paper menu - "Please order at the bar" on the other. I think they should put this information on the menu as well, or both sides of the menu holder to be sure it can bve easily seen. I wuold have suggested this to the guy I placed my orders with, but I have the distinct feeling it was his first day, and I didn't want to cause him more panic than he was already experiencing. He did ok with my queries about gluten free options, so I let him off the hook. The waiting staff were slow to clear away (I seem to become invisible in public places - the table next to me was attended to twice and cleared away on a third visit, while I sat with the same dishes clearly left aside to be lifted) but that's no big deal.
But - none of the latter comments spoiled my visit in any way. I felt relaxed, and the food was just divine, and the music was enjoyable and not overbearing. I would be happy to return, but more importabtly, it went well enough for me that I'm a little happier to venture to somewhere less known to me. Maybe I'll start reviewing such places a little more often. :)
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