Ask Italian - The Teege Critiques!

This passion of food for me has never ended, from the moment I first tasted a pure unadulterated demi-glace. Its like an orgasm in your mouth, flavors you can not even imagine bouncing off your palate, your mind floating like you're on clouds before the bitterness ends and you must swallow. *sigh* Why must food be like this...? So, Norwich -- you're a fine city. Hit me with a quick bite, and bring it on. For I shall show you no mercy.

A cold blustery night, wandering around the city on a late November end-of-the-week evening. The wind billowing at my coat, we trudge on, we wander through the sweat-filled smell of Chapelfield. The Italian place that many have spoken of, some may even recommend. Let's see what say you! Stand, be counted -- or fall and be defeated!

The entrance was better than in Bill's... at least this time we actually were greeted within 30 seconds. A someone tiresome looking manager stressed over the fact that there were four front of house staff on and three somewhat uncouth looking half-brained idiots in the kitchen. Honestly.

If you have an open kitchen there is one rule that must be kept at all times with no exceptions! That rule is that you do not look dirty. But one chef in the kitchen was wearing as much jewellery as a rich socialite might wear when trying to attract a new sugar daddy. Beyond that, hair was everywhere! One chef even picked his nose when looking out at the restaurant and wiped it on his sleeve. When he caught my eyes looking square at him he turned pale.

I... that... really? Seriously? I mean, I've found a fag-end in my KFC before, but at least that's not as bad as wondering with dread if a meal I've ordered from a supossedly reputable restaurant is going to be garnished with some complementary nasal detritus. Reprehensible.

The head chef, along with the front of house manager, looked as though their last ounces of strength were being sapped out of them by the very presence of people in the restaurant. The beads of sweat on the manger's heads would be enough to fill a swimming pool. Heaven forbid if any of that got in my food!

Ah... food, the actual reason anyone should really live. The menu, varied, expansive and downright ridiculous. The quote on their menu states that their meals are made exactly the same way in Italy!

I can tell you now, I've eaten in Italy, I've been in Italian kitchens run by an alcoholic chef and I say this now -- the food made by the drunk Italian was far better than what I received here!

I ordered the bolognese, a simple Italian dish, a classic. If you work for an Italian restaurant and cannot produce this then you shouldn't be working there!

To say the least, this review is short... like my visit here. The pasta? Half-cooked and no meat in sight within the dish... oh wait, after half the meal I found a single one-centimetre-diameter ball of mince.

I didn't even stomach the whole meal, and anyone who knows me knows I ALWAYS FINISH MY PLATE!

I did wonder why that flock of flying pigs fluttered by my window the other day. Must've been the same day The Teege™ stepped away from a meal that he had not entirely eaten. In case you're wondering, THAT IS BAD NEWS.

The chefs at this time had all departed, the front of house staff too -- and this was at 7PM in a restaurant. I stood up, placed a £10 note on the plate with a handwritten note, and left.

0 stars. You are not a restaurant, I will not critique you. You no longer exist.

The note said "This is not food. Try again."