Dining Out
Karl
Wells
Ph. 754-1111
What's more, the card doesn't contain your name. Nope.
As if the interminable wait isn't bad enough, they insist on giving you and
your party a ridiculous name like: Martha the Moose, the Muskrats (that's me),
Yogi the Bear, Lassie, Smoky Bear, the Tent Pegs, the Chipmunks or the Minnows.
Then they tell you to stay or - if you like - go away and wait for an hour, an
hour and a half or even "110 minutes." Yes, they're that precise
about when you can come back to the old cookhouse.
Problem is, when you go back at the designated time
you're still likely to have to wait a further 15 or 20 minutes because they're
"running a bit late." When your dopey name is finally called it's broadcast throughout the entire restaurant over a very
loud and annoying public address system.
"Martha the Moose!! Your table is ready!! Come on down to the front
porch!!"
Then, with everyone gawking to catch a glimpse of
"Martha" (who may well be a 230 pound man) you approach the main desk
and are shown - perhaps red from embarrassment - to your cookhouse perch. It’s
all a little too much.
Once out of
The advantages to having a large corporation like Cara
behind a restaurant are obvious when you look around
Our table ordered a variety of appetizers. I had the
firecracker sizzling shrimp. They were served in a cast iron skillet in a
mixture of green and red sweet peppers and onions. The shrimp were spicy and
tender. The remainder of the dish had that lovely developed flavour you find in
many slow-cooked pasta sauces.
One of us had ordered a salmon salad as an appetizer
which
It was supposed to be a simple salad of grilled
salmon, greens and a bit of fruit and vegetables. The salad was to be tossed in
a “raspberry vinaigrette dressing.” Well, get this; it arrived without a flake
of salmon, nor a single drop of the raspberry dressing.
“Oh, was there supposed to be salmon on that?” said
the server.
Yes, and dressing too. (But maybe dressing was
expecting too much. I suppose gagging down a bowl of dry greens can’t be that
bad.) Eventually she returned with two small, skewered strips of overcooked
salmon on a separate plate. She should have taken the entire thing back to the
kitchen and had it presented properly. Alas, we never did see any raspberry
vinaigrette. I’d had high hopes for the accompanying corn bread but it turned
out to taste like sickly sweet muffin mix.
I had much better luck with my barbecued rib tips. I
suspect they were a packaged, precooked
product that’s just heated-up and browned in
The rest of my table had
My dessert showed promise but I wouldn’t have prepared it in a cast iron skillet. It was a “peach and blueberry skillet, sweet biscuit dough and vanilla ice cream.” The fruit and ice cream were fine. The cooked in the skillet biscuit dough tasted like one of those mixes you just add water to and bang in the oven. Apart from that it had acquired the taste of cast iron, not particularly pleasant when it comes to the fore in any dish but especially in something delicate. Personally, I only cook hefty things like beef in cast iron.
I’ve been to
A meal for two at
The noise level at
Best Points:
Despite some mistakes, pretty good food.
Areas for Improvement:
For heaven’s sake, take reservations.
Ratings Category:
7 points = satisfactory, 7.5 points = good, 8 points =
very good, 9 points = excellent, 10 points = perfection