Belfast really can be an excellent place to eat.
It is probably the best place in the world to eat if you like chicken and steak, because even the best places have these on the menu.
But that’s OK, because they need to please the people with the bucks to spend on eating out all the time. And these people seem to like steak.
Or both, in a sort of meat cocktail.
Anyways, I’ve made my peace with that, and it makes me even more determined to try all the other things on the menu that show off what the chef can really do.
Or sometimes it just means I end up eating really good steak.
Anyway, the husband and I have tried Chinese, Thai, mexican and Indian offerings all over the city, with varying degrees of success, so we decided to use his birthday as an excuse to try La Boca, Belfast’s Argentinian offering.
We had been once before, for tapas, and throughly enjoyed them, so a table was book and a date was ON.
I must admit, the variety made it somewhat exciting and date-like. I even shook out my underwear and put on some slut-red lipstick.
I don’t quite know what came over me.
It won’t happen for another while, I am sure.
We got to the restaurant and it was all busy and buzzy and exciting and DIFFERENT. It sort of reminded me of some the restaurants I’ve eaten in while travelling, sort of ramshackle, but in a pretty way.
The busy thing might have come from the Belfast Telegraph diners, but we didn’t care, we were on a DATE. I was wearing SLUT-RED LIPSTICK. Mr p could barely believe his luck.
I looked at the menu and realised Argentinian was perhaps a little foolish if trying to avoid steak. It does take up quite a lot of the menu.
And it’s obviously Argentinian steak. In Belfast. The logic in the food miles is slightly beyond me, but perhaps it is super delicious or something.
Once I stopped being a pretentious wab and wised up a little, we ordered some food ( not steak) and some quite delicious Shiraz Malbec.
Well, my lips were slut-red already.
I figured a little red wine stainage would hardly matter.
Mr P, in a fit of hunger, asked for some bread. I would have got a starter, but the menu seemed to miss the point of a starter slightly, and everything was deep-fried. Or cheesy. Or both. In other words, something that was probably sufficient for the whole of your meal, rather than just a starter.
So nibbling on poor Mr P’s bread it was.
Much as the mood of the evening wanted it to be, that is not a euphemism.
Anyway, usually with the bread thing, there are a couple of different types, and here it was just one. I want to make a bad joke SO BADLY about getting some enormous fluffy baps in, but I shall refrain.
One type of bread it was then, and tasty, too. Which is a lot better than three types of mediocre bread, I suppose. As a result of my sourdough endeavours, I am a bit mystified by bread that is light and fluffy, and devour it and its multitude of additives immediately, so that it was I did.
For mains, I had lamb shank, with mushroom ragout and sweet potato.
It was fine.
That is not a good thing.
Well, it’s not a BAD thing per se, but that is quite literally all I can say about the food.
It was fine.
It didn’t taste bad, or tough, or off. It just taste ‘fine’. I tried seasoning a bit more, something I never do, but that just made it taste like slightly salty fine.
Mr P’s pork (FNAR FNAR!*) was OK.
(*Sorry if your mind isn’t in the GUTTER, if you don’t even know what SLUT-RED lipstick is and you are generally an upstanding member of the community. Just sorry.)
Again, not bad, or off, or anything, just ‘OK’.
And at nearly £15 quid for a main course, one really does hope for more than ‘OK’.
By the time we got to pudding, we were in full on time warp mode.
‘OK’ pancakes topped with swirls of cream and chocolate sauce and bits of stuff and things.
I was sort of rifling through it in search of a cocktail umbrella.
I nearly found one.
I paid up, took my (dangerously close to being old) husband and my slut-red lipstick into the night.
It was a good night.
Care of the slut-red lipstick, Mr P had a fab birthday.
It was a pleasant restaurant.
The food was OK.
Its just that maybe next time, we will stick with steak.
6 Fountain St
Belfast, County Antrim BT1 5ED
028 9032 3087