The Fat Olive

I’m not very hip. I shower most days and try not to look too shabby from day to day, but I’m not one of the painted masses, clubbing the nights away and choosing restaurants not by the cuisine but by who else might be there.These restaurants, always with a better funded hype machine than kitchen staff, burst at the seams with low slung couches that are just low enough any girl in a short skirt will inadvertently (or not) provide the entertainment at at party tables that seat more than 10.  The menus rarely challenge, and as long as there are 5 kinds of champagne, plenty of vodka and some fiercely overpriced scotch, few people will care about what food they might order.  But the food isn’t the point, it’s the people watching, the feeling that you’re in the place to be.  Which is fine for some, but it’s not my style, especially when the mediocre to ‘just fine but totally boring’ food is gratuitously overpriced, and the service so slow that it took 20 minutes to get a cup of tea, or that all 9 of our party were waving for salvation like castaways to earn water refills.  From my vantage point I was jealous of the people eating at Element Fresh, who were getting served.

Such is the Fat Olive. If you find yourself on the terrace, take in the view, stick to water or one of the few reasonably priced wines (there are one or two) and maybe the cheese plate.  The Taztiki had a biting amount of raw onion in it, to the point that I can still taste it after brushing thoroughly and a strong whiskey.  The skewers were fine, but unremarkable, and if they made the pita in house, they should fire the person who baked it.  Whatever you do, don’t order the calamari, which was some of the worst I’ve ever had, and costs a little less than 10rmb a piece (58RMB total).