Rotten Experience

26 Feb 2011 - Would you return to a place which has served you spoilt food before? I don’t think I would, especially in this gastronomic climate where so many restaurants and cafes vie for patronage. 

And so, I think my first visit to Tarbush at Empire City Mall is my last. A pity, since I ate very regularly in their first outlet in Ampang when I worked with the Writers’ Publishing House.  Even before and after my tenure at Faridah Stephens’ company, I continued to visit the restaurant, loving the freshness of Middle Eastern salads, and the simple preparation methods.

Parsley and lemon, and lemon salad. It was not a typo!

Tarbush Salad. With more lemon.

Kit and I brought Erin, accompanied with Grandma and Nas to Empire Shopping Gallery for a night out. Erin loves the rides outside Toys R Us, so Empire is quite a treat. The mall offers a lot of dining options, but I dismissed my favourite restaurant, Ole Ole Bali as being kid-unfriendly, and I have avoided Kenny Rogers because of the industrial kitchen feel of the food these days.

Tarbush was quite empty, which made up my mind. I ordered Tabouleh Salad, as well as a parsley based one. They came out a lot more astringent than I remembered, and even my mum in law who is a lover of lemon juice, remarked on the acidity. 

Lamb briyani.

Their version of nasi briyani was alright, though I certainly know at least three restaurants which easily surpass it. The mixed grill seemed oversalted, but was tender, at least. 

Salty mixed grill.

It looked innocent, but was rotten inside.

I wolfed down the pita before I realized there was a funny smell accompanying the sourness. I am quite discerning tastebud-wise, but when I dine with Erin, it is a rush to stuff my face in between ensuring she has enough to eat, which is why I did not savour my food as I usually do.

It was only when a sneaking suspicion dawned on me, that I wafted the offending pita under Kit’s nose and asked if it was off. He instantly confirmed it. 

It was a good thing the manager was on site, because the staff seemed frozen with fear when I told them the problem. It was with much relief that they passed the buck to him in a hurried, horrified whispered conversation. 

He took the dish away, but not before he explained many dishes had lemon juice added to them. I politely listened but in my heart was thinking he’d messed with the wrong gourmand. In his favour, he came back and said yes, the dish was indeed off, it must have been the tomato puree. 

Whatever the case, he took the item off my bill, and gave us a complimentary dessert and was quite apologetic. 

Still, I wonder if was enough. I was appeased, and I know accidents do happen, but…