Okay, this is a slightly tipsy post. I'm currently celebrating the return of my boyfriend after he stayed at home extra long to uphold his football obsession- in particular his benevolent passion for Wrexham FC, in which he travelled all the way from North Wales to Luton to watch his team miss out in the playoff's. So we went for a lovely little meal at the Olive Branch in Aberystwyth and had a mandatory bottle of pinot grigio, therefore I apologise in advance for my incoherent illiteracy.
This is not my first visit to the Olive Branch, nor will it be my last. The location of this lovely little restaurant is pretty spectacular, it is right on the seafront and we were lucky enough to have window seats through which we could see the sun setting over Cardigan bay. There is a lovely bearded waiter every time we go. I normally associate bearded men with rapists thanks to a traumatic scene in "this is England '86" but this man is clearly an exception. He provided us with some lovely dipping breads in "authentic" greek olive oil. It had a lovely lemon twang to it. However I prefer softer dipping bread personally, and a little splash of balsamic vinegar would have made all the difference. On a happier note, the pinot grigio was lovely and chilled. It felt like toxic ice cubes were slipping down my glutenous pipes, just how I like it.
My main course was YEMISTA for £ 11.10. This was described on the menu as Oven baked green peppers stuffed with rice, pine kernels, sultanas and fresh mixed herbs; served with roast potatoes, garlic yoghurt and garnish. It was absolutely fantastic. I feel I have failed my two followers by not fulfilling my promise of a critical blog... I seem to love everything so far. I found myself unable to finish my food, which is a surprise cause normally I find the dishes here sparse. Perhaps the slightly gone off ciabatta bread had filled a void.
The best part of my night was having philosophical conversations with the boyfriend. I can't quite remember what the depth of the conversation was, but we debated over which is better Mrs Dalloway or Macbeth. I still maintain that none of Shakespeare's tragedies can ever be beaten by a piece of pretentious psychoanalysis fiction. But then we quickly had to down our drinks because some nostalgic Greek music came on which reminded Jono of childhood nightmares- something about a man with spaghetti hair and a banjo. Thus ended a lovely first night back together in Aberystwyth, and probably our proper night out together last until exams are over.
So now I sit here, with a head not quite with it, listening to Glee volume five- because that's how I roll. Telling you that Yemista is rather tasty and that Shakespeare beats Virginia Woolf. It's been a productive waste of your time. :)
xXx
ps. Oh my life this glee remake of the human league's "don't you want me baby" is pretty awesome fyi...
No comments:
Post a Comment