KEY POINTS:
There are certain activities that, even when done well, are better not done at all. Playing the bagpipes is one. My father often said - although I fancy he was quoting someone - that the definition of a gentleman is somebody who can play the bagpipes and doesn't. Brass-band music, a contradiction in terms if ever I heard one, is another. I have always taken the view that what people do in the privacy of their own homes is their own business, but it appears to be compulsory to play brass-band music in public. Very loudly.
In matters of gastronomy, too, there are some things better left undone. You don't get Mongolian restaurants because Mongolian food is so god-awful. Trust me on this: I've been to Mongolia and they don't have those Mongolian barbecue restaurants there. They are an American invention and, although they are pretty god-awful too, they are Michelin three-star material compared to the real Mongolian barbecue. This is called bodog and it involves disembowelling a marmot, a cross between a ferret and a guinea pig, filling it with red-hot rocks and chucking it on the fire to burn the fur off while it cooks from within. If you keep your distance until it is well done, you probably won't catch the bubonic plague from the fleas that typically infest marmot fur.
But if Mongolian restaurants have the decency to remain in Mongolia, how are we to explain the worldwide success of Mexican restaurants (another oxymoron)? I don't think "Mexican food" is a contradiction in terms, but it just makes more sense served in polystyrene takeaway containers than on plates, where it looks sad and wan and like something you might have knocked up while camping.
Given my strongly held views, you may reasonably ask what I was doing at a Mexican restaurant. The reason was that my guest for the evening was my daughter, a fluent Spanish speaker after a year in Chile, and I thought she might appreciate the chance to flex her linguistic muscles with the waiters. Instead she spent the evening telling me what an old reactionary I had become. In English. While I shouted her dinner.
The waiter (who was Brazilian anyway, so spoke Portuguese) had asked whether we wanted margaritas, the tequila-based cocktails of which they have a staggering range, in a tone that seemed to assume there was only one possible answer so we assented. I fancy mine could have done with another shot of tequila. It certainly wasn't strong enough to stop me working out that the outrageous by-the-glass wine prices made buying a bottle and taking half of it home much better value.
Of the food, it's hard to think of what to say, really. The quesadilla - a sort of tortilla cheese toasted sandwich - was cheesy and not much else. The chicken wings, ordered medium, were as hot as hell (beware: "mild" does not mean bland here). The soft-shell tacos and beef fajitas (strips of grilled beef, served with capsicum and onions), were perfectly acceptable but, even served with rice and beans, salsa and guacamole, they seemed like takeaways on a plate. It's - how should I put this - Mexican food. If that's your thing, they do it no better and no worse at Hola than anywhere else.
Hola
311 Parnell Rd
Parnell
Ph: 308 0088
Open: Seven days from 11.30 till late
Wine list: Adequate. Buy the bottle.
Vegetarians: Options available.
Watch out for: The chilli.
Sound check: Boisterous.
Bottom line: What else do you expect?
- Detours, HoS
