Wednesday, 5 September 2012

What did you learn / locked away all on your own / chance and your head all blown

"Are you going to start doing your restaurant review thing again?"

"Probably not. The time for sarcastic remarks about Indian restaurants and mudslinging at Heaven has probably passed. Time to let the new blood take the reins"

And the new blood are a rather serious bunch. Check out the Living in Kigali website, which gives you practical advice about restaurants. They tell you useful things like prices and how clean the toilets are, like in a proper restaurant review.

"Besides, I'd feel obliged to go and review 'Mickey Mouse' in Kimihurura. Can you imagine the indignity of going to such a place?"

The truth is: my laptop (and a half a dozen pre-written reviews) - was stolen, my life got busy; I moved house twice (am now a resident of Colombo) and worked in some other places that are hard to find on the map.  I'm not sure I still have it in me to plunge into my deep and poisoned well of misanthropy to find mean things to say about restaurants.

But feck it. Why not eh?

Le Chateau
According to the drunken Belgian owner of Le Chateau in Nyarutarama, I am a "Shitting fack". After identifying this fairly obvious character flaw, he gave me a $10 bottle of imported Kwak, invited The Dude to kiss him on the lips, and offered to take the Young Ambassador out for some "sexy dancing"

Pork chops come with thyme or rosemary depending on which menu translation you read, but arrive at the table with neither. Not that additional herbage would have helped much, as eating said pork chops was an experience akin to being repeatedly struck in the face with a greasy leather belt. And I don't mean that in a good way.

The Young Ambassador had something resembling a pizza that had been left out in the rain, The Dude some flaccid pasta, and The Surfer a Deathstar-grey chunk of beef ring-piece. Our table's sense of disappointment was overshadowed only by our collective awe as we were dazzled by the Belgian's tour de force display of swearing ("fack, fack, shitting shit fack") and his subsequent spiral into a silent vin triste, swaying from side to side and staring vacantly into the middle distance like an undergraduate with meningitis.

Avoid Le Chateau.

Le Chateau
+250 785 823 772
Nyarutarama, along the road adjacent to the golf course

No comments: