Unfortunately Pango seems to be wallowing in some halcyon age of 1950s paternalism. The management and waiters are apparently oblivious of the idea that my wife could earn more than me and present us with a menu with prices (for him) and a menu without prices (for her), on the understanding that money is too rough a subject for the delicate sensibilities of the gentler sex. On the other hand, it would have been more useful if my wife had been aware of the kind of money we would be paying for the flavourless rubbish we were served over the next 2hrs.
How can a restaurant be taken seriously if they have only one 'option' for wine by the glass? Are we expected as a couple with my wife breastfeeding and me driving to polish off a bottle of wine? The 'open' wine was sour and almost undrinkable and served in a soup bowl sized glass, which can accommodate half a litre... Is this to drown my sorrows as I chew through three utterly tasteless steroid-enhanced king prawns? Or were they emperor prawns, perhaps? What's bigger than emperor? Pope prawns? Big in the prawn world does not mean tasty. Far from it.... And why does every dish come with the same side plate of insipid over-cooked vegetables?
As we tasted some of the chocolate candies at the end of the meal (which are not so bad...), it was 09:30 and we were the last people in the restaurant! Maybe people here really have been transported from the 1950s, heading off to bed at 9pm. When the bill arrived (presented to the man obviously) I realised I could have eaten two far better, tastier, more inventive meals elsewhere in Nairobi without sharing the vapid conversations emanating from heaving tables of khaki-clad tourists. One to avoid.
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