They say ‘there is no such thing as a free lunch’, but we can hope that sometimes, in these recessionary times, a good cheap one will come our way.
A member friend told us of this special offer. They had tried it and said it wasn’t bad and it was the best cup of coffee they had been served for a long time, so we decided to give it a go. Two courses, a bottle of wine and coffee for two people for £30 +10% service.
We knew the venue of old, a Great Western Hotel, a beautiful building where, in our youth, we would dance the night away in the grand ballroom to the strains of some wonderful dance bands. Oh, how hath the mighty fallen. Decorated entirely in black and dark brown the atmosphere was oppressive in the small partitioned off rooms. The ballroom we learnt had been turned into bedrooms. The restaurant was so dark that several business men requested a window seat so that they could see to read but they were all reserved
When we asked what the wine was we were told, Spanish, ‘vino tinto or vino blanco’. Say no more, if they paid more than £3 a bottle for it they were robbed.
My salad of roasted beetroot with Barkham Blue cheese and hazelnuts arrived minus the Barkham Blue and had to be sent back for the addition of a few crumbs of cheese, most would have not even noticed in the dark. Roast butternut squash soup was served au natural - accompanying bread would be £2.45.
‘Onglet steak with fries’ the menu said, as a died-in-the-wool carnivore, I had never heard of an onglet steak. “Ah, you see madam,” our Polish waiter explained running his hand down the front of his chest, “it is szz bit at szz front of the beast.” “Ah,” I said, “the flank - is it braised slowly to tenderise it?”. “Oh no madam, it izz cooked very quickly and it izz very tender.” I decided to take a gamble, our other main course was mussels so I thought I can sit and chew while the mussels are being dealt with, no problem. My three generous portions of onglet and a large pot of mussels duly arrived. The steak was just as expected, decidedly chewy but very flavoursome. The mussels had good size shells but the poor little chaps inside hadn’t had any sustenance for years. Many of the shells were empty but we anticipated the meats swimming around in the sauce at the bottom but no, there were three times more shells than there were meats. By this time my jaws were aching so I passed my last piece of steak over to make up for the lack of mussels.
A large cup of very hot, strong coffee was indeed excellent. On inspecting the facilities I decided they would not be out of place in a brothel, with the black silk quilted walls and red counters. When I commented on the fact I was quizzed as to how I knew what a brothel would look like.
As 'Mal' translates as 'bad', while 'maison' is house it is certainly an interesting choice of name for a hotel group. Maybe it was not far off the mark, this one was really ‘mal’. One could say it lived up to its name but hardly the way to do a promotional drive!
