Saturday, 20 September 2014

Review - Red Dog Saloon

I have a broken fridge. It's rental hell. You might not think it would be as bad as, say, having no hot water for a week (been there too) but TRUST ME if you're of the 'buy all your meat and beans from tesco then go to the market for vegetables' persuasion, as I am, it really screws with your food plans. My food plans have mainly been orientated around using everything up, including the frozen vegetables, in various hotch-potch meals. The last thing that I cooked was a sausage and lentil stew which I served with 'salad' of (previously frozen) green beans and peas. (Loads of them. Enough for five people to get sick of.) That was last Saturday. Since then, I have eaten out or I have not eaten. It has been kind of a treat but actually just really expensive and boring. I've recently been feeling wearied by restaurant food, like my tongue has been burnt and I can't really taste anything. At the time, I enjoy it and (I think) I can still recognise when it's good but, unlike before, I don't remember it  VIVIDLY and go on about how great it was months after. And also, actually I don't know if I really can taste if something's good. In fact, let's try again: eating out a lot recently has meant that I have eaten out in more underwhelming restaurants and have become over-exposed to the good ones meaning that I can't appreciate them properly. (Now, that's a first world problem if ever I heard one.) It's almost like I can't be bothered to enjoy it just as I can't be bothered to do my hair or keep up with the chores or write this blog. I need a nap.
Red Dog Saloon was one of the actually unimpressive restaurants. I didn't really expect it to be any good but it was right next to where we'd been wine tasting and, more than anything else, we were hungry. When I saw fried chicken on the menu, I thought I could reclaim my poor experience at Bird. And I admit, this chicken was at least hot and not AS dry. But it was still a bit dry. I don't know whether to attribute that to being a breast piece or a more general quality. But basically, I was uninspired. And I definitely have it in me to be inspired by fried chicken because I LOVE greasy, American junk food. The mash was creamy- but tiny and with only a touch of gravy. The greens were interesting and had been cooked in an interesting tangy way but, ultimately, there was nothing here to write home about.

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