Got a proper schooling last night. After being turned away there I had to quickly reassess as it was raining and theres not much fun standing around getting wet when hungry. Anyway went into some other place anyway that was also packed and they said there would be a 45 minute wait for a table. I said grand we’d go into a pub across the road to kill the time.
Pub was packed anyway so had to queue for 10 minutes for a large bottle of Bulmers. Had only just sat down then, when the other restaurant rang to say a table had become available and that they’d hold it for 5 minutes or else it was gone.
Mick the Muldoon strolling up to a restaurant on a thursday night in his bootcut jeans expecting to be let it with no reservation. You literally could not make it up.
Bang restaurant was, sad to say, worse than average. Go easy here guys, as I know I’m opening myself up for a torrent of abuse, but here goes.
Upon entering, we were shown through the restaurant by a pleasant enough lad with the haircut of a macklin-kinehan foot soldier, which resembled a cosco sized brillo pad on the top of his head, with the sides shaved completely bald in a kind of reverse Mickey d. Even more bizarrely, in a restaurant you could shout up the stairs in, he sported an earpiece like you’d see on a nightclub bouncer. Maybe he was dressed ready for later.
Anyhow through the bottom floor we went, past a couple of bins and up the stairs to a top floor which felt unloved and a bit grimey, well the stairs did too in truth. There was a very pretty red haired waitress, and you couldn’t fault the service in any way, but the ambience was like being shown into a suspiciously cheap air bnb.
We ordered off the main menu, which had the usual staples. A black pudding concoction was ordered by all, coincidentally, and arrived as a lukewarm plate of mush, suspiciously undercooked looking, and by some culinary wizardry they had managed to invent a dish that tasted like the smell of sperm (I know), and was one of the most repulsive things I had ever attempted to eat. I prodded it about politely. My colleagues cleaned their plates without comment.
Next up was a lump of monkfish you could have gently bounced on the baseline a couple of times before serving it at the opposition.
The green salad was nice. The chips were good.
The accompanying wines were good and hadn’t been open for two days which is always a worry with these wines by the glass.
We ordered coffee and one cheese platter, which was nice, but obviously just involved putting a few small pieces of cheese on a plate, and thinking of a price.
By this stage, about 10pm, the place was packed, with some quite nice scenery and about half a litre of botox.
We had a glass of house red, which was pretty decent as these things go, before wandering on our way.
We were not at any time pressured for the table.
The best thing about the place was the service, the red haired lady in particular, but it resembled eating in a mid range place in London, which is invariably hair raisingly expensive for what you get, and you leave shaking your head at how full the place is regardless.
I can only imagine that the ground rents and general costs are extortionate, which knocks onto the price.
In truth, a greggs roll is a lot nicer.
Lovely if unsurprising review. If youd asked for a Dublin recommendation only @Horsebox wpuld have chipped in with this place. Its owned by the only dragon that didn’t run for president