Lookout the Coffee House

I have to give the Lookout some credit; they’ve taken on the unfortunate task of satisfying already angry customers. They should’ve called this town, «Sucks You Missed the Boat.» And when you stop and think about it, isn’t the name Horseshoe Bay redundant? I mean… it’s a bay. By definition, they’re shaped like horseshoes.
With exemption of the ferry docks, there’s really nothing setting Horseshoe Bay apart from any other small town where your interest is directly correlated by the time it takes to drive through it. This assumes you’re not trying to catch a ferry, emphasis on try. The curse goes like this, if you need to make a certain ferry, you’ll miss it: if you take your time, you’ll just catch it. Your success is impeded by satellite navigation systems being unable to differentiate between the car docks and the passenger docks – which require completely different routes to reach. So yes, most likely, you missed the boat, anchoring you in Horseshoe Bay for up to two hours. I noticed that same despondent look on other faces, now forced to find something to do in a town designed to cater to people annoyed they’re stuck in Horseshoe Bay.
I admired the lack of franchises but got discouraged they were replaced with places all apparently boasting the «best» fish & chips. After walking around for thirty minutes and discovering that Horseshoe Bay is really that small, we settled on the Lookout Coffee House, a diminutive hut perched near the edge of the pier, corroborating the name… so credit given. There’s nothing wrong with the Lookout – it’s cute, and probably the best place of its type in town – one where you’re promised fast food with a view of the boat you wished you were on. The octagon-​shaped serving area features only a counter running along the inner perimeter for people to sit – a novel concept, but one which forces most people to enjoy their food outside. And this was not a warm afternoon when we were there. (I was trying to think up a good UFC joke to coincide with the shape of the café…maybe one will come to me later.) The serving/​cashier area is crowded, with people packed hurriedly wanting to fill their orders. Outside, it’s a bit more roomy, with awkward paintings of overly happy people ironically making me unsettled – that blond woman with arms like that alien at the end of Close Encounters, the kid with the colossal head, both smiling so exuberantly you’d claim the drinks were laced with ketamine.
And my girlfriend bought a stuffed animal there at ridiculous markup, so that’s a thing. Thankfully, by the end of it, I still believe we made the right choice. What people don’t need after the stress of missing a ferry is a long drawn out restaurant meal involving the gastronomic minefield that is fish & chips (wait…“is” fish & chips or «are» fish & chips?). I have had some of the most amazing examples as well as some of the worst. The last thing I want to do is test where Horseshoe Bay falls. The Lookout is a stone’s throw from the passenger dock, making it an easy choice. The food was okay; the drinks decent, and if stuck like so many others here, you could do a lot worse, and let’s be honest, it will sure as heck beat anything you could possibly have on the ferry.
Don’t smirk, when we finally got on the boat, dozens of people lined up outside the Coast Café Express vender on the upper deck because Starbucks apparently injects methamphetamines into their drinks (they certainly don’t inject flavor – BOOYA, [drops mic]). I’m guessing these people didn’t check out the Lookout; I’d wager it’s better.
Food: ³⁄₅
Service: ³⁄₅
Presentation: ³⁄₅
Value: ³⁄₅
Recommendation: ³⁄₅

View of the ferry, friendly folks and delicious mango smoothie.