Feeding frenzy at the Eating House

Ah, where to begin. Last week was a gourmet treat, with two pig outs at two good places in Balmain.

The first was at the Welcome Hotel. I think I have been there before, but nothing about the place rang any bells. Yes, I remember having a beer or two there, but not a feed.

It's a good spot for a chow-down. I started with a chicken liver mousse, which I think is just pate mixed 50/50 with butter. Delicious. That was followed by a steak that was also pretty good. Unfortunately, the memory is now over a week old, so I can't really remember a lot about the night, except that the young one ordered duck, and it was the slowest cook duck in history. When you're 10 years old and hungry, having to put up with a delayed meal is no fun, especially when you didn't bother with an entree and don't like the fancy home made bread. The duck came out late, late, late, and it wasn't properly cooked. The skin was like rubber and I'm sure some of the meat was raw. Good thing they didn't put it on the bill. It was an atrocity of a duck. Atrocity, atrocity, atrocity!!

For those in the know, it was definely "duck over, duck out".

As far as I am concerned, the place was bloody marvelous. The youngster might beg to differ though.

The amazing thing though is that a few nights later, we were out for another fancy chow down, this time at the Eating House, which is very French. Blow me down, the brave little sod orders duck again as a main. I tried to convince him to go the easy option with fish and chips (which is what I did), but he had to go the duck. Lucky bugger - the duck was superb. Yes, my fish was magnificent, and the shoestring fries were the best chips I have had all year, but the duck looked better. Very annoyed. I am proud of my ability to normally choose what I think are the best dishes on the menu.

I did start with brains though - breaded and fried and served with a nice salad. It's been a while since I have done the Hannibal Lecter and gone with brains, mainly because so few chefs seem to want to cook up squishy rubbery bits of goo. Or, not many patrons want to eat breaded and friend bits of squishy, rubbery goo. They were good. Not great. Not magnificent. Good. I wouldn't order them again.

The trouble with brains is that I had an amazingly marvelous entree of brains at a restaurant about 15 years ago - place is probably long gone - in Kings Cross. They were something else. Or I was smashed, which is how all dinners used to be eaten. They were served with some sort of berry sauce, and they were excellent. I think they were also broken up into little nugget sized bits, which I reckon is nicer than being presented with an entire brain. The Eating House goes the whole brain effect, which is not really the best way to go if you are feeling slightly squeemish.

The Eating House gets top marks. Good service, nice ambience (we sat beneath a huge tri-color) and great bread. Next time we go back, I am murdering the duck.