Restaurant review:
Restaurant reviewer Alastair Paulin is underwhelmed by sloppy dishes and juvenile humour.
Bamboozled by casual menu racism –
No restaurant has ever been more aptly named than Bamboozle. The setting enchanted, the menu infuriated, some tastes seduced, the service irritated, and by the time I paid, I felt hoodwinked that a restaurant of evident ambition and talent was let down by juvenile sloppiness.
Philip Kraal’s Asian fusion restaurant was a Sumner favourite and post earthquake, relocated to a marquee site on Cambridge Terrace in perhaps the most striking of the central city’s new buildings, the wavy glass Deloitte building.
At 6.30pm on a warm Saturday, we got a park immediately outside the front door and stepped into a high-ceilinged, airy space of light wood with bamboo green accents. Tantalising smells wafted from the open kitchen and we were promptly seated at a high four-top with bar stools.
I’m never a fan of high bar-style tables but the up-side was a direct view into the kitchen.
As I read the menu, I wondered how the all-Asian kitchen staff on view felt about their dishes being described as ‘‘velly special’’, dumplings written as ‘‘dumpring’’ and an overstuffed roti being called ‘‘rital phatt ee’’. We get it, some Asians struggle to pronounce ‘‘r’’ and ‘‘l’’ but does anyone over the age of 13 find that funny?
The adolescent boy humour continued with a take on pad Thai called ‘‘luff’u long time phat Thai’’ and a description of dumplings including the phrase ‘‘all you need is a few beers and a T-shirt competition and life would be complete man’’.
My wife’s childhood comfort food is sweet and sour pork and she loves dumplings so a mash-up of the two seemed like a great idea. What could go wrong?
Everything. The fried dumplings had an undercooked, gloopy dough, and the proportions were all wrong, so some bites were nothing but stodge. The filling was all sweet, no sour, and to top it off I had to fish a large chunk of gristle from my mouth. Life was not complete, man, especially when four dumplings go for $17.50.
The batter on the ‘‘wang wang ten ta kool’’, salt and pepper coconut fried squid, would not stick to the squid and had little evidence of the advertised flavours. Fried squid is a family favourite, ordered in nearly every Asian restaurant we visit, and I’ve never had such a disappointing version. To add to the insult, it cost $18, three times as much as we often pay for the humble entree.
Beautiful whole prawns were an overcooked sad waste, losing all of their natural sweetness, and a char siu style braised pork roti, the offensively-titled ‘‘rital phatt ee’’ was just a mess. The roti was so overfilled with small chunks of pork that it was impossible to pick up and eat, especially since the overly sweet juice drenched the roti, making it soggy.
When I tried to pick it up, pieces of pork fell all over the table and juice ran down my forearm. I asked the server how she would recommend I eat the dish and she shrugged and suggested cutting it in half, which would have made even more of the pork spill.
The servers were inattentive, milling around joking with each other as dirty plates sat neglected on tables, even though the restaurant was less than half full at 7pm on a Saturday. Eventually the host noticed and took the lead in servers clearing the table. Seeing the food spilled on the table, one asked us if she should wipe the table clean.
Yes, and next time don’t ask. Having been thoroughly disappointed so far, we searched the menu in hope of giving Bamboozle a shot at redemption. An elaborately served steak, egg and chips spotted on the adjacent table looked promising. At $46, it should impress, and it sounded like the sort of playful Asian take on a classic dish that would let the kitchen show its stuff. Five minutes later the server reappeared to tell us the kitchen had run out of steak.
We settled on some prawn, garlic and chilli rotbatayaki skewers. The perfectly grilled prawns came on delicious spicy, sweet tomato salsa and we devoured them with relief for a dish with no flaws.
The next dish, char-grilled sweet corn, was a star. It came with melted cumin cheese and bacon but any doubts I had at the combination of flavours disappeared with the first bite. It was surprising, complex, and well-executed. It was exactly the kind of dish I hoped for from an upscale Asian fusion restaurant, and reassured me that somewhere behind the juvenile menu and the overwhelming sweetness of many of the dishes was a chef who genuinely loved Asian food and was prepared to experiment.
We complemented these dishes with the featured ‘‘cocaine’’ rice, flavoured with black vinegar and studded with chillies, peanuts and fresh coriander. It was as addictive as advertised, and so good I almost managed to forget that a bowl of flavoured rice cost $25.
Even looking past the racist, sexist language, the menu bamboozles with what sound like inspired takes on Asian classics. But with bao buns and dumplings all over Christchurch, overly sweet versions at overinflated prices no longer cut it. And the kitchen’s disappointments were not failures of risk-taking but failures of mediocrity.
If you’re heading to Bamboozle for the food rather than the marquee location, swanky cocktails and impressive setting, take what you would spend and enjoy a decent neighbourhood Asian restaurant – twice.