My mates at Harry and Frankie
I love Harry and frankie. Not only because it gives me another local drinking option in my current area of residence.
Ok, it’s the only local drinking option in my current area of residence. Especially if you are after wine. Good wine. Actually, one of the best collections I’ve seen in a wine bar.
Every time I enter, it’s like entering an old friends house. A friend, whom I know not the name, but who always has a welcoming smile and greeting for me. Like they are actually pleased to see me.
I love this place.
The girl and I sit down and immediately order wine. I don’t care what wine (it was a tough day) and there’s too many to choose from at Harry and frankie. Besides, the staff actually know, and seem to be interested in wine, so let’s leave it in their capable hands. I give my friend (we’re now friends) the brief : Shiraz, $50, bottle thereof, please and thank you. He returns with a winner, well, a potential winner he tells us, of the upcoming Jimmy Watson. I neglect to suggest that every wine is a “potential” winner, as my new friend might not understand my hugely underrated sense of humour. Best to ease him into it.
The food menu is as short as the wine list is long, but they make no apologies for that. People come her to drink, the food is a secondary consideration.
Except it’s not. It’s like the second son who although is every bit as good as the first born, too often gets forgotten and overlooked. But we’re segueing into something I need to address internally. Let’s move on …
… To the extremely loud South Africans behind us bellowing an Afrikaans version of Happy Birthday, thoroughly ruining the romantic mood with my girl and me. Like they read my mind, my new best friends (we’re best friends now) offer to move us where the noise is dimmed, as is the lighting. Much better. Now we are talking atmosphere.
Food arrives. We’re sharing the duck and chicken liver pate, and spaghetti with crab, crustini, and chilli. This was the only main on the menu, but let let me tell you something. It was the only main that needed to be on the menu. Other than the choice of pasta (tubular spaghetti? Why?) it was as close to the best crab and chilli pasta as I’ve had. And I’ve had at least five.
Pate is pate. And it’s a wonderful thing, always. This was a layer above wonderful, enhanced only by the perfect amount of toasts for pate provided. Nothing irks me more than stinginess on bread and toast when ordering pate or cheese.
And since I brought it up, cheese for dessert. I order the cheese in the same manner as the wine. One soft, one hard, please and thank you. A Brillat Savarin and Gruyere later, with ample crackers, lavish, toast and bread (see above) we bid adieu to my life long mates. Great to see them, “thanks for stopping by” they say. Such good friends, I am so lucky to have them in my life.
I should find out their names.