Always the last on any bandwagon, I have finally hauled my arse to Franklin Manor to be seduced by the Anais Nin of gastronomy, Monsieur Meyjitte Boughenout, and his wife Debbie (eerily reminiscent of Sigourney Weaver). You may have noticed in Friday's real estate guide that FM is for sale (the leasehold will set you back around $600 big ones) ... but I already knew (don't you just love being a smart arse know-it-all?).
The food was, well, all I can say is ...
Oh my God, yes, yes, yes, YES!
And guess what, there will soon be multiple orgasms for all, cos the Boughenouts and their little ones are moving to Hobart. Hurrah! Get your credit card balances in order, keep you diary free, and get ready to add your name to what will no doubt be a lengthy waiting list. Rumour has it (in fact, it ain't rumour) that properties around Hobart have been eyed off (including the Elbow Room site). My heart is going pitty-pat as I write.
The sad news is that Strahan will lose its brightest star, which is a shame for such a stunning location. After Franklin Manor, Risby Cove is perhaps the next on Strahan's dining ladder. To compare these would be insufferably cruel. Risby Cove is not bad; the site is lovely and the staff are enthusiastic and friendly. Simplify the menu and you'll be apples.
But getting back to my culinary sex life: I'm going to try to be chaste and virtuous until Meyjitte opens his doors in Hobart, at which point I will attempt all seven deadly sins at one sitting. Woo hoo, can't wait!
GW
About Me
- Georgie Weston
- The date of my birth (6 January) is the Feast of the Epiphany - the celebration of the discovery of the Baby Jesus by the Magi (the 3 wise kings). I like to think they enjoyed a great wine, a fabulous meal in fine surroundings, and magnificent service. This and other delusions have led me to spit the dummy about food in Hobart. Hobart Restaurant Bitch - on the hunt for the Divine Dining Experience!!
2 comments:
Dear Rest Bitch
Are you starving yourself?
We need your bon mots.
Put your comments on our daily food fight out there more often.
I don't know where to turn when you don't tell me what is good or bad.
Yours, Hungry Horace
I too miss the bitch. Are you not going out, my Dear? Is Big Brother keeping you glued to the settee? My money's on Geneva. We miss you darling and your insightful, timely and exquisitely bitchy comments on Hobarts quaint little cuisine scene. Come back, come back to us bitch, we feel abandoned in this increasingly cold and heartless world. Come back so we know all is right within our little sphere again. We miss you. from bitch lover
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