Having poo-pooed a number of seemingly reputable Yum Cha establishments in the last four weeks, The Youth were prepared to try again on Sunday. This time they consulted The Sydney Magazine and decided on a joint recommended by Terry Durack which attracted a "civilised business crowd". After much preparation, The Youth (who were ready by 8.45am) and their chaperones powered into town, parked the vehicle and poured a couple of pocketfuls of change into the parking meter.
The establishment was reached by way of a red-carpeted spiral staircase. Greeted by waistcoated waiters bemused at our early arrival, we were ushered to the central table. Trolley Dolleys were summonsed from the back room, unprepared for such prompt diners. The fare was tasty, if a little predictable, but there were a number of highlights. The first was the 'prawn ball'. It contained the compressed bodies of many hundreds of prawns and was wrapped in an enormous layer of...let's see...fat, I think we'll call it. Needless to say, it was ambrosial, manna from heaven. Some short time afterwards, the husband began to complain of chest pain and 'a zinging sensation' in his brain. His MSG tolerance obviously substandard, we assured him that the post-cha buzz would fade. And it did (part-timer!) The second highlight came straight after the 10am chocolate mousse. The Youth, who had been specifically herded by the waiters to seats on the east of the circular table, were mesmerised by the plasma screen in the west wing behind us. In their stupor, they failed to notice the glass of icy cold water teetering on the tablecloth in front of them. The husband didn't stand a chance. The ignominy of an ice chaser to the groin after the MSG assault was unspeakably cruel.
We vacated the establishment poste-haste and, on our trek back to the vehicle, deemed the joint "a dud" on a number of different levels. Our quest continues.