Paroa Hotel 3.5 stars

Paroa hotel for dinner was a good recommendation but my meal was ... entertaining. And worth a post all to itself.

We were welcomed and seated quickly and soon had drinks. Janine was starving and hangry so I got wedges and garlic bread on the go immediately. The menu was great, even the single vege option looked amazing and made Angela happy. My choice was immediate - the $38 "steak connoisseur's delight". 

All the food was great and my steak looked really good. But a sinking feeling started when I cut into it and my knife stopped. No slide through like butter here. So I sawed. And sawed. Eventually a piece came off revealing a greyish textured interior . Medium rare this was not. Even medium? Nah. Lots of well doneness here.

So many thoughts crossed my mind. It was a $38 steak. I was so looking forward to it. It would be my last meal for days where the preparation wouldn't be "add boiling water to bag and wait 15 minutes".

So I did something I'd never, ever done before in my life.

I sent it back.

The waitress was like a deer in the headlights - I don't think this had happened to her either. Eventually she took my plate away and shuffled off to the kitchen with it.

The wait was long.

I had eye contact with the servery so I saw at last, as the others were finishing their meals, another steak come out. Hooray! The waitress grabbed it, along with a salad plate. There was some animated discussion between her and the chef. The chef gestured to the door to carry on the conversation.

The waitress moved to the door.

The chef flung the door open.

Time slowed

The door hit the plate with my steak on it.

Angela recounts how both Allyson and I went "OHHH" simultaneously at this point

My steak started on a clean ballistic trajectory that ended neatly at another diner. 

On the back of her head.

My steak slid slowly down the back of her dress and deposited itself on the floor.

The  waitress juggled and moved and with a herculean effort kept most of the rosti, the chips and the sauce on the plate.

The diner turned.

The waitress absorbed the true horror of what had just unfolded.

Time returned to normal. With much apologising and cleaning and looking after the diner who just wore my steak. The chef's shoulders slumped. She disconsolately walked back to her kitchen. She let out the biggest sigh.

I looked on, still hungry.

To be fair, it was pretty good when it turned up an hour later.