The Barking Dog
Look ma! I'm a food critic! No, but seriously.. the Barking Dog, great place, great food.
In the nature of my vagabound ways, I'm only home about half of the year. As many of you know, I spend the rest of the time trying to survive in the streets of Barcelona or more recently, teaching Spanish students some sort of strange language I like to call English. As a result, what time I spend with my mother on a one to one basis is appreciated for the both of us, which means a nice meal on those rare occasions we're not tied up attending to other things. Originally we planned to go to Made in Belfast, since we appreciate its deliberately tacky/eccentric decor and the controversy causing naked lady art which act as an utter insult to the good taste of the fun hating Presbos, however a quick google of "Made in Belfast restaurant review" yielded only negative reports of its cuisine. A comment on the Guardian review suggested a number of places, one being one of Belfast's few Gastro restaraunts, "The Barking Dog". A second google search gave me the positive feedback I needed to decide that this so called dog would be the very place that our three courses would be so delightfully consumed.
And what a dog it is.
Located on the lower part of the Malone Road, the restaurant is decorated in a classy but unpretentious rustic fashion. Having made no reservation we weren't given exactly the best table in the building. Its round shape made it a little bit tricky to get our legs under one hundred percent but a pint of the home brew meant I quickly forgot about this minor indescretion. It's a pretty flavoursome Belfast lager, maybe not as crisp as I'd hope for in a pre-dinner pint but it seemed to pack a bigger punch than I was preparing for, quickly illustrated by my sudden lack of vocal volume control a mere quarter of an hour after I sat down. The candle lit interior had a fairly lively atmosphere punctuated by a series of very animated waiters. The gesticulation of the head waiter led me to believe that in the best possible sense he might have been a little bit wired - not necessarily a bad thing; a little bit of free entertainment doesn't go amiss and to his credit he upsold the menu items like some sort of Egyptian God of second hand car salesmen. The menu was quite well presented, in a readable but original font listing six or so items for each course which is in my eyes, just enough to appease every taste without clouding a customer's judgement with a barrage of over variety. There was nothing on the menu that came as a particular suprise for a standard gastro restaraunt. Lamb, steak, pork, chicken were the obvious options for the carniverous customer, whilst a pescatarian could opt for hake, fish pie (don't put that into google) and scampi. The usual linguini or risotto could be selected by more discerning vegetarians. I opted for a starter of potted chicken, garnished with probably the most perfect colseslaw I've ever tasted.. and the most ungodly tasty toast. My mum opted for the special - a carpaccio of beef with salad. In her words, this was probably the most delicious starter she had ever eaten. When it comes to food reviews, my mum doesn't deal in hyperbole. Take from that what you will. No suprise in saying the starter plates returned to their point of origin completely bare.
From a reviewer's perespective the gap between starter and main course was a good bit longer than optimal but it gave us a good chance to enjoy the simple but pleasant Chilean merlot and gas about everything in life. By the time the gap was over we were ready to get stuck into our plato segundo. In a restaraunt like this, I'm a sucker for rump of lamb - the idea of its taste is impossible to shift from my head once I get it stuck in my head. This time though, the lamb exceeded expectations - it was the medium rare that all future medium rare rumps should be cooked to the standard of, beautifully crispy on the outside, salivatingly pink on the inside. Five spices gave an uplifting kick to the juicey meat sauce, differentiating it from the norm This was complemented by a pee and bacon puree and a gorgeously layered creamed potato. My mother's only one complaint about her fantastic plate of scampi was that it was a little bit too peppery and shift the pepper/lemon ratio slightly in favour of lemon you'd have again, a perfect dish. After seeing that it was only just after nine, we decided to make a rare venture into the realm of deserts. I convinced my mum to opt for a rice pudding with a balanced garnish of caramalized pineapple and mint cream over her usual choice of creme brulee, a decision she did not regret. I on the other hand, took the advise of the waiter and opted in favour of chocolatte assiette, which was a lot more subtle than I originally suspected from the menu's description. Feeling decisively indulgent we finished the meal with a cappucino and an americano. I can't complain too much about my cappucino but the beans in my mother's americano were definitely a little bit burned. When I'm not influenced by the grape or the grain, I tend to be a bit more of a coffee snob, a testament to the barista training I received prior to starting my employment in the MAC. The bill including tip totalled just under £90; fairly typical for restaurant of this caliber and fairly reasonable when you compare it to other establishments that from what I gather appear to provide a poorer standard of cuisine and service. Ahem *MADEINBELFAST* Ahem.
Now go get your feed on.
Thursday, September 06, 2012
Wednesday, September 05, 2012
A Few Best Men
A Few Best Men
- A few mediocre at best men more like it
My friends and I had originally geared ourselves up for the high octane, cheap-thrill-heavy Expendables 2 but after failing to get tickets we opted to buy tickets for this Australian/British Hangover style comedy we opted to the the bar to have a second pint in the interim period. Maybe rather than enhancing my enjoyment of the film, the Hoegaarden numbed my funny bone but when you're not expecting too much, you're not likely to be disappointed. Truth be told, I hadn't heard much at all about A Few Best Men before I went and saw it. I couldn't have told you who was in it and after reading the cast list on the cinema "What's showing" pamphlett, I still couldn't have told you any of the films the stars had previously appeared in. With the exception of Kris Marshall, famous for playing a man-boy-child character in long running, largely inoffensive BBC sitcom My Family and appearing in BT adverts for the last dacade, there was no-one in the film who registered more than "I think I recognize that guy, but from where". Only by cheating and looking on www.imdb.com have I been able to ascertain that Kevin Bishop was in Grange Hill and had his own show that ran for two series on Channel 4 and the long suffering groom was played by Xavier Samuel, who apparently appeared in some Twilight sequel which I have never seen because I have some vague sense of self respect.
That's not to say any of the cast were particularly bad but by and large the acting standards ranged from at best "quite good" to at worst "a little bit bland". Marshall continues his streak of playing immature, old-enough-to-know-better batchelor characters, whilst Bishop plays a Woody Allen/Mort Goldman style neurotic bumbler (ironically with a Hitler moustache). Laura Brent and Xavier Samuel do the best with the script that they're given, acting as likable but largely forgettable protagonists in a film that seems to opt to be just that: amiable but unexceptional. Perhaps credit is most due to Olivia Newton-John for playing out of control mother of the bride, acting as the leftist opposite to her on screen, politically right husband. On the political note, the whole film was suprisingly left with both soft and hard drugs being used with only minor consequences for the characters and hilarity ensuing from said consequences.
Hilarity as a whole though, didn't really ensue. Comparisons between this film and the Hangover will inevitably be drawn and the producers were obviously trying to draw in the same crowd, however whilst the Hangover was fresh and strangely satisfying, more or less everything in this Aussie/Brit clone has been done before - the groom's party wake up to find an animal wandering about their rooms, they have shenanigans with their crazy drug dealer and ultimately are charged with the task of rectifying all of their mistakes. The thing that annoys me about both of these films is that none of the characters ever seem to actually suffer from a hangover. At no point in this film did any of the main characters complain about having a pounding headache, dizzyness, nausea (aside from a character who downs three bottles of champagne on the day of the wedding) or even "The Fear". I would love to see some character get the 5 O'Clock in the afternoon of the next day paranoia spells I get from a heavy night. Seriously, just once I'd like to see a character appear jittery, sweaty and nervous as they try to contemplate the purpose of their existence whilst trying to "get their shit together." Instead they run around having their hijinx to some increasingly bland quirky Australian ska covers of existing songs, often mixing it up with close up shots of the spanking blonde wedding singer as if the director wanted to launch her to musical stardom through this film.
The film's biggest flaw is its predictability. It starts with a shallow sentimental "I love you moment" between the two lovers and more or less ends with the same moment. You could yell at me for saying that's a spoiler but the film is shot in such a way that nothing other than the last fourty seconds pre-credits act as a suprise. The slapstick jokes are so often delivered as "visual set up", delay, "visual punchline", with the punchlines very rarely being anything other than exactly what you expected it to be. For me this meant the laugh factor was much lower than it ultimately could have been. Whilst I could hear a lot of laughs from the rest of the audience, the four of us watching were compartively silent, I can only presume they were the twenty or so people in the western hemisphere who haven't seen the Hangover.
The bottom line is that this film is just too average to buy a cinema ticket on any other day than a £3.00 Tuesday or whatever your local cinema's variant is. It'll be better suited for those nights where you and your boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/moose/wookiee are tired after a long week of work, want to stay in rent a movie and fall asleep on the couch three quarters of the way through. Despite the odd moment of gross out comedy involving a sheep's rectum, this is inoffensive old hat, not without its charms but not exactly full of them either.
- A few mediocre at best men more like it
My friends and I had originally geared ourselves up for the high octane, cheap-thrill-heavy Expendables 2 but after failing to get tickets we opted to buy tickets for this Australian/British Hangover style comedy we opted to the the bar to have a second pint in the interim period. Maybe rather than enhancing my enjoyment of the film, the Hoegaarden numbed my funny bone but when you're not expecting too much, you're not likely to be disappointed. Truth be told, I hadn't heard much at all about A Few Best Men before I went and saw it. I couldn't have told you who was in it and after reading the cast list on the cinema "What's showing" pamphlett, I still couldn't have told you any of the films the stars had previously appeared in. With the exception of Kris Marshall, famous for playing a man-boy-child character in long running, largely inoffensive BBC sitcom My Family and appearing in BT adverts for the last dacade, there was no-one in the film who registered more than "I think I recognize that guy, but from where". Only by cheating and looking on www.imdb.com have I been able to ascertain that Kevin Bishop was in Grange Hill and had his own show that ran for two series on Channel 4 and the long suffering groom was played by Xavier Samuel, who apparently appeared in some Twilight sequel which I have never seen because I have some vague sense of self respect.
That's not to say any of the cast were particularly bad but by and large the acting standards ranged from at best "quite good" to at worst "a little bit bland". Marshall continues his streak of playing immature, old-enough-to-know-better batchelor characters, whilst Bishop plays a Woody Allen/Mort Goldman style neurotic bumbler (ironically with a Hitler moustache). Laura Brent and Xavier Samuel do the best with the script that they're given, acting as likable but largely forgettable protagonists in a film that seems to opt to be just that: amiable but unexceptional. Perhaps credit is most due to Olivia Newton-John for playing out of control mother of the bride, acting as the leftist opposite to her on screen, politically right husband. On the political note, the whole film was suprisingly left with both soft and hard drugs being used with only minor consequences for the characters and hilarity ensuing from said consequences.
Kevin Bishop's character, complete with moustache and allergies
Hilarity as a whole though, didn't really ensue. Comparisons between this film and the Hangover will inevitably be drawn and the producers were obviously trying to draw in the same crowd, however whilst the Hangover was fresh and strangely satisfying, more or less everything in this Aussie/Brit clone has been done before - the groom's party wake up to find an animal wandering about their rooms, they have shenanigans with their crazy drug dealer and ultimately are charged with the task of rectifying all of their mistakes. The thing that annoys me about both of these films is that none of the characters ever seem to actually suffer from a hangover. At no point in this film did any of the main characters complain about having a pounding headache, dizzyness, nausea (aside from a character who downs three bottles of champagne on the day of the wedding) or even "The Fear". I would love to see some character get the 5 O'Clock in the afternoon of the next day paranoia spells I get from a heavy night. Seriously, just once I'd like to see a character appear jittery, sweaty and nervous as they try to contemplate the purpose of their existence whilst trying to "get their shit together." Instead they run around having their hijinx to some increasingly bland quirky Australian ska covers of existing songs, often mixing it up with close up shots of the spanking blonde wedding singer as if the director wanted to launch her to musical stardom through this film.
The film's biggest flaw is its predictability. It starts with a shallow sentimental "I love you moment" between the two lovers and more or less ends with the same moment. You could yell at me for saying that's a spoiler but the film is shot in such a way that nothing other than the last fourty seconds pre-credits act as a suprise. The slapstick jokes are so often delivered as "visual set up", delay, "visual punchline", with the punchlines very rarely being anything other than exactly what you expected it to be. For me this meant the laugh factor was much lower than it ultimately could have been. Whilst I could hear a lot of laughs from the rest of the audience, the four of us watching were compartively silent, I can only presume they were the twenty or so people in the western hemisphere who haven't seen the Hangover.
The bottom line is that this film is just too average to buy a cinema ticket on any other day than a £3.00 Tuesday or whatever your local cinema's variant is. It'll be better suited for those nights where you and your boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/moose/wookiee are tired after a long week of work, want to stay in rent a movie and fall asleep on the couch three quarters of the way through. Despite the odd moment of gross out comedy involving a sheep's rectum, this is inoffensive old hat, not without its charms but not exactly full of them either.