This evening I went to Brussels Sprouts, a restaurant in Robinson Quay specializing not in the green cruciferous horrors of Christmas Day lunch, but in Belgian beer and mussels. I can drink the beer but avoid the molluscs, so I was at least halfway content.
There’s very little vegetarian food there, although what there was (a salad and some grilled mushrooms) was more than acceptable. They also provide an endless supply of fries. Well, they said endless. I don’t think they’d realized the never-ending eater that I become when you put fried potatoes in front of me. A bucket of fries later, the chips stopped coming.
The mussels are in all different flavours, including laksa, and the frankly unimaginatively named "chilli, like chilli crab" flavour. That would be chilli crab flavour, surely, or just chilli flavour. I thought of remonstrating with the waiter, but he was just the point man for whoever had made a hash of writing the menu properly.
Then again, the staff seemed to appear at random, bearing food that hadn’t been ordered (or duplicate orders of what had been requested) with no idea of what had been ordered by who. It’s not hard to have a system, you know.
Still, my rage was lessened, by two pints of beer and the thought of dessert. Sweet, delicious deep fried dessert.
We didn’t have dessert. This greatly saddened me, as dessert is my favourite meal/foodstuff/reason for existence. I scurried home and scoffed chocolate covered dried fruit while trying to talk to my wife on Skype. But mostly I just scoffed chocolate covered dried fruit.