RESTURANT REVIEWS FROM THE GOLDIE OLDIES FILES

A slight diversion from my “normal” glass related blogs is a series about restaurants. I used to review local restaurants when I first started going with Janice who is now my wife. I think at the time going out for a meal and writing about it was a distraction to the main purpose of just going out and having a good time. I mean as two fully mature adults we just couldn’t let rip and go out on the town, could we? I mean what would people say/ Especially in a small town where everyone knows everyone. So here it is, the first of several restaurant reviews. Maybe not connected to glass. However, I have made a few items of glassware for local hotels, notably small bud vases for tables in dining rooms.

Having just had a meal at the Portland last week it seems appropriate I start with that venue. Wow fifteen years ago. Portland has had a few owners over that period!

THE PORTLAND ARMS IN 2008

Entering a restaurant is a much-underrated skill where training should be compulsory! Thus, when walking into the Portland Arms at Lybster looking for the main restaurant it wasn’t surprising that the resident diners were startled to see my companion and I walk around the tables, out through the “in” door and escorted back again to our reserved table, abet without any such identification. “Sat nave.” For diners take note! At least this devious route allowed me to judge the bar meal area, which to all intentions resembled a pine warehouse clear out of the 1960’s.

Ahh, but we, cleverly, were seated in the library. I knew that because I booked, and the wallpaper had books on. I suppose if it was a floral design, we would all have hay fever. As it was, we were left in the dark, not completely as there were candles in abundance. Enough to either burn the harbour down or to see the menu. I say see, but unfortunately my dining companion had endured a major disaster and made a spectacle of her by breaking her reading glasses. So, it came to me to read what was on the menu and as I did so, the waitress re-appeared to remove one of the three different versions we were presented with on our arrival. Apparently, the cod and French fries were off and so was the waitress. As in leaving our table, not “off” as with accompanying smell! Didn’t bother me, if I wanted fish and chips I would have gone to the local chippy! The lack of background music helped my dictation of pronouncing the different courses, but naturally not only could my guest hear but so could the rest of the diners. Quite what they thought as an ear leant forward to me and I shouted, “rack of lamb” and “curry” deep inside the inner sanctuary of human hearing. Maybe they regarded this as care in the community and I was acting the brave social worker with a poor girl who was optically challenged. Optics maybe but then our wine arrived to distract us as we opted safely for the soup of the day.

Interestingly as we entered, I noted the location of the kitchen which was reinforced on our exit tour. However, all our food arrived from the opposite direction, leading me to imagine the chef had run around the car park as if on a lap of honour before passing, baton like, to a waitress and then to arrive at our table, cool. That’s cool as in blooming cold. I suppose the dual purpose of candles threw light upon this subject by offering a course to warm our dishes. The main course surprisingly arrived at the speed of lighting, (not lightening though!), or at sprint compared to the initial servings climaxing surely after a marathon!

The venison tasted good, which was perfectly understandable since it was that which I had ordered. The waitress kindly explained to me as if I thought venison was related to “Birds-eye” that it would be rare. I thought maybe that was why is expensive but haggled for a compromise of medium rare and have no idea if this is what arrived. I mean it certainly didn’t have a sticker on it saying, “Endangered species.” Meanwhile opposite me a marquee of pompadons or whatever had arrived, and someone had sneaked a curry underneath Three times the waitress arrived at our table to remove the cutlery and plates, and three times they were sent back with the message, “sorry not finished yet” Shame, I mean these good people have homes to go to. They were so pleased we declined deserts; otherwise, I smelt an overtime claim of at least three hours in the air.

Oh, but I didn’t mention the bread which arrived without any pleading, grovelling, or selling grandmothers. It was the best bread bowl ever that I have seen and infiltrated by oatcakes. Imagine if you had ordered the pate as a starter and the most common complaint is that there are never enough oatcakes for the pate. Well ask for the bread bowl and get a week’s supply of oatcakes and if you ask nicely, I bet they throw in a Tesco’s voucher as well!

So, what about the bill? Well two goes at inserting my credit card, caused by initially buying up the whole of the deer stock in the north coast of Scotland for £238,000, yes, a technical error, and I thought someone has been “done”. Considering what we had, I guess, (wrongly) that the drinks were complimentary. They weren’t of course, well the water was, and that is the water I asked for. Why or why, when glasses for such fluids are on the table does one have to ask for the obvious? I mean, just looking out the window and you can see the damn stuff!!!!

Associated with settling the “bill” accompanied by a tussle of who and how much should a “tip” involve, is the trek to the toilets. I volunteered for the advance party and set off confident that the waitress directions were fool proof. So, they were until I reached the first floor and can vouch for the hotels claim that they have twenty-two bedrooms. Signposting on the ground floor that there are toilets upstairs is all well and good but please, for my bladder’s sake, if nothing else, can the signage continue to the “little boy’s room”? Ahhh but there was no such thing as what I found looked pretty unisex to me. Of course, I may have been in the bridal suite, the premises hosting a wedding the next day! Eventually things brightened as I found the light switch, something my companion missed on her visit which left her very much in the dark. Still, she did state that she felt relieved and so I guess “feeling” is the key word here and remember her eyesight would not have noticed the pitch darkness.

A hearty meal, subdued lighting in a relaxed atmosphere with a sense of comfortable surroundings and it truly was a pleasurable way to spend a Friday evening. But why is Lybster so far away, cannot something be down to realign the County so that all the good restaurants are within walking distance of my home? Please, please, please. I will promise to vote for SNP next time!!!