UPDATE: Buzz has located pictures, lovely thing that he is. I've updated accordingly.
You can blame Buzz for the lack of photographs in this post. Lovingly taken to record a truly hideous meal, they have failed to make the transition between camera a la Buzz and laptop a la Buzz, and you will therefore, dear Reader, have to accept my descriptions as gospel truth.
My peach of a grandpa, who will for the purposes of this post be called Grampa T, celebrated his 85th birthday at his favourite restaurant, surrounded by most of the Victorian contingent of his children and grandchildren. Miss T, Miss T Junior, Mr and Mrs T, Buzz, Uncle Biffs and cousin Zacman were thrilled to help bring in the birthday in style.
Grampa T kindly and generously shouted us to lunch at The Snooty Fox in the Dandenongs. Having had a look at the menu online (where I discovered I should order dessert because I knew "I wanted too!"), I emailed The Snooty Fox (hereafter TSF) asking if a vegan meal was possible. A couple of days later I received a friendly call from TSF assuring me that anything could and would be done, and to let them know when I arrived. Brill! This I duly did, and was asked to let my server know too. Check. I basked in their warm efficiency.
We ordered, and Uncle Biffs chose to share the vegan option (which remained a mystery despite our waitress' promise to let us know what it was), and then we waited.
And waited.
Annnnnd ... waited.
For an hour and 55 minutes.
Our entrees (chips; not the most labour intensive dish) came and went, as did two rounds of drinks. Crickets chirped. Tumbleweeds rolled by. We played noughts and crosses. We asked. We were offered a free round of drinks, which was nice but kinda too late as we were all full of the rounds we'd already bought ourselves.
And then the mains arrived.
I was ready to shrug and forgive at this stage. I'd had fun playing Hangman with Miss T Junior, Buzzman and the Zacdude. But I cannot, will not, nor shall I ever, forgive my meal.
A vegetable stack in a ramekin was served accompanied by some acceptable (and heated) pumpkin. But did the electricity get cut off and the gas blow out? I can think of no other reason to explain my stone motherless cold lunch.
This was a day that reached a maximum of 10.5C at Mt Dandenong. Everyone else ordered a hot meal, yet Uncle Biffs and I were left with slices of day-old roasted vinegary vegetables which, upon poking with a fork, yielded up some slices of champignon and sundried tomato which had seemingly been purchased from the Safeway deli, all of which was plonked in at least an inch of cold oil. An inch. Swimming.
Below: flashed to show up the full depth of oil - note where the tines of the fork hit the yellow grease.
I left it. And, although I hesitate to mention omni food, Zacman's meal came smothered in the spicy sauce that he specifically refused, and most of the other meals were reported as mediocre at best. We felt that we couldn't complain or we'd be there til Kingdom come.
If I had been told that a vegan meal would be a problem, then I would have happily ordered chips and a side salad and got on with celebrating Grampa T's birthday. And that's what galls me most - the sloppy service and gag-worthy meal took away from his day, and no matter how hard we tried not to make a big deal of it, it left more than a literal sour taste in the mouth.
You can blame Buzz for the lack of photographs in this post. Lovingly taken to record a truly hideous meal, they have failed to make the transition between camera a la Buzz and laptop a la Buzz, and you will therefore, dear Reader, have to accept my descriptions as gospel truth.
My peach of a grandpa, who will for the purposes of this post be called Grampa T, celebrated his 85th birthday at his favourite restaurant, surrounded by most of the Victorian contingent of his children and grandchildren. Miss T, Miss T Junior, Mr and Mrs T, Buzz, Uncle Biffs and cousin Zacman were thrilled to help bring in the birthday in style.
Grampa T kindly and generously shouted us to lunch at The Snooty Fox in the Dandenongs. Having had a look at the menu online (where I discovered I should order dessert because I knew "I wanted too!"), I emailed The Snooty Fox (hereafter TSF) asking if a vegan meal was possible. A couple of days later I received a friendly call from TSF assuring me that anything could and would be done, and to let them know when I arrived. Brill! This I duly did, and was asked to let my server know too. Check. I basked in their warm efficiency.
We ordered, and Uncle Biffs chose to share the vegan option (which remained a mystery despite our waitress' promise to let us know what it was), and then we waited.
And waited.
Annnnnd ... waited.
For an hour and 55 minutes.
Our entrees (chips; not the most labour intensive dish) came and went, as did two rounds of drinks. Crickets chirped. Tumbleweeds rolled by. We played noughts and crosses. We asked. We were offered a free round of drinks, which was nice but kinda too late as we were all full of the rounds we'd already bought ourselves.
And then the mains arrived.
I was ready to shrug and forgive at this stage. I'd had fun playing Hangman with Miss T Junior, Buzzman and the Zacdude. But I cannot, will not, nor shall I ever, forgive my meal.
A vegetable stack in a ramekin was served accompanied by some acceptable (and heated) pumpkin. But did the electricity get cut off and the gas blow out? I can think of no other reason to explain my stone motherless cold lunch.
This was a day that reached a maximum of 10.5C at Mt Dandenong. Everyone else ordered a hot meal, yet Uncle Biffs and I were left with slices of day-old roasted vinegary vegetables which, upon poking with a fork, yielded up some slices of champignon and sundried tomato which had seemingly been purchased from the Safeway deli, all of which was plonked in at least an inch of cold oil. An inch. Swimming.
Below: flashed to show up the full depth of oil - note where the tines of the fork hit the yellow grease.
I left it. And, although I hesitate to mention omni food, Zacman's meal came smothered in the spicy sauce that he specifically refused, and most of the other meals were reported as mediocre at best. We felt that we couldn't complain or we'd be there til Kingdom come.If I had been told that a vegan meal would be a problem, then I would have happily ordered chips and a side salad and got on with celebrating Grampa T's birthday. And that's what galls me most - the sloppy service and gag-worthy meal took away from his day, and no matter how hard we tried not to make a big deal of it, it left more than a literal sour taste in the mouth.
3 comments:
A very fair and reasonable review.
Rach - disappointing to say the least. Side salad and french fries sound like they would have been a gastronomic delight compared to the horrid dish that took 2 hours to get to you. Guess Grandpa T won't be celebrating his 90th up at the Nongs?
I bloody hope he won't Sars! It was very upsetting to watch *him* get upset on his special day that he had organised so carefully, and his 90th deserves a lot better!
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