When I was about 7, I realised that my birthday, being a day before my mother’s was a good thing, and for a while, got away with saying her present was me.
As my cuteness wore off and craft hobby presents got twee, it was time for presents, which, while mum was in Malta and I was in the UK was easy. Now, being a travelling shopaholic herself (I am my mother’s daughter), it is more difficult to find her things. Now, being all grown up, we go for lunch.
Today, we decided on Haywharf, which I’d given a scathing review to in its previous life as Lo Squero. Now, owned by the same gang as Ferretti and the Exiles, I thought we’d be in for a treat. Not so.
The venue is done nicely and the view is fantastic, lots of windows allow more than one row of diners to benefit from it, but why oh why in the refit did they not do something about the sound?
I’m not sure if it was everyone else’s mum’s birthday, but the place was packed. Read too noisy for a conversation. Like way too noisy for a conversation.
And I don’t think I could have read the menu properly as both my dishes weren’t quite what I was expecting; the neonate was described as a fish cake, but the neonate weren’t evident. They were fishy, but more cakey.
My main, a linguine with rabbit liver had two ingredients I can’t stand with pasta; bacon and cream. I was expecting a rich liver gravy smothering the strands, the liver, juicy and browned, flavorful and perhaps with a hint of balsamic vinegar.
What I got was a bacon and cream pasta dish with rabbit livers thrown in as what felt like an afterthought. Pink, no evidence of pre cooking and as they were all I ate from the dish, not enough.
I spent the latter part of the summer looking forward to trying the place out, seeing it as we came in on the boat, but what wasted dreams. Maybe the bar up top will make this memory fade, but I’m not sure I want to test it out on such an important occasion.
