The Flame Bar N Grill

Much to my surprise the 300g Ribeye came to me in 2 thin but separate slices, and other bits and pieces. The total sec bomb who cordially delivered it to me seemed unfazed and so I was left to my own devices to ponder what was in front of me. «Strange», I thought to myself (while keeping schtum), «that they couldn’t find a solid 300g piece of rib eye». That, or I’m absolutely bonkers and steakhouses simply go by a single criteria of weight measurements now for their meat instead of additional criteria as I had thought.
However, if I’m totally honest with myself it does make more sense from a stock management perspective to simply grab any bits of meat from those ribs of the cow and dish them out. It must be terribly inconvenient to try and perfectly cut up steaks in all these different weight denominations; 180g, 300g, 500g?! Way too hard. Think of the wastage. What if nobody orders the 500g? That’s a recipe for bankruptcy! Just cut it into much smaller denominations and combine to meet the advertised weight on the menu, genius.
Due to my immense love and respect for meat I will comment on the taste a tad; the meat tasted alright. Nothing too flash. Flame grilled. Quite gristly. Sauce was very sweet. The mashed potatoes weren’t fresh and fluffy but dry like the Pilbara. The steamed vegetables were the highlight of the main. F&@! I love steamed vegetables!
The chicken wings to share were dry and nasty. I tried dissecting them to get to some sort of deep reservoir of moisture, as if I was some sort of deep sea chicken diver or a moisture mining magnate, but no moisture was found in those wings. Dayum. So brittle. The bed of chips which propped up said chicken looked like those crinkly packet chips you get from the supermarket, and at that moment I realised I MUST be eating food intended for bogans and uneducated people. This place had nothing to do with adoring meat. How naïve of me. It was at that moment, like a bolt of lightning, I felt a resounding shame in my gut. Shame for all things which must endure such mediocrity.
The chocolate brownie was delectable. Piping hot, with icecream to cool the burn as I gobbled it down.