La Sangria

The ladies (this week featuring Lisa, Lanni, Katina and myself) had arranged for a little dinner earlier this week, it was an apology/gift bearing dinner. The apology part stemmed from study-hard Lisa and babysitter’s club Katina who couldn’t make it to the birthday festivities last week, the gift bearing section was a chance for us to give lovely Lanni her belated birthday present. All in all, it was really just another excuse to eat, drink and speak at unsociably and unnaturally high octaves. (For those who have dined with us previously, you’ll understand what I’m referring to)

Unfortunately, little Lanni bailed out on us in favor of a black uniform and a waiter’s tray, her dad had volunteered her to wait at her uncle’s restaurant in Mona Vale (I think it’s near Kansas). So, after some minor hair dramas on Kat’s behalf, the three amigos headed off to La Sangria in Balmain. We were running about 40 minutes late (not so fashionable) and out of the corner of my eye I spotted a couple leaving the restaurant. Kat pounced on them like a famished jungle cat and we managed to stalk ourselves a parking spot. Upon arriving, the gracious host set us up a makeshift table, next to an overly inviting couple

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We thought it a good idea to save the champagne we had BYO’d and opted for a jug of the delectable sangria instead…*great choice!* We were later moved to another table, a little closer to a couple of very yummy guys. Unfortunately we could smell the camp-ness from a mile away, so we settled back and admired the view. Shortly after, the food began to arrive at our table; we happily consumed crumbed lamb cutlets, Spanish meat balls and roast potato bravas all mopped up with the help of all-i-oli bread. Sufficiently full, but not yet satisfied, the finale piece de resistance came in the form of a chicken paella.

It was during our consumption of the addictive paella (do the Spanish use MSG?) that strange things started to happen. A girl from the table diagonally behind us got up and demonstrated to the patrons of the intimate restaurant, her version of what seemed to be a cross between Sarah-Marie’s bum dance and Shakira’s ass shake, at the same time a lady excused herself from the table opposite us, as she stood up to head to the bathroom a random guy at her table proceeded to whack her a hard slap on the ass. (Is anyone noticing an ass motif here?). Just as we thought the drama has settled, a lady from the table behind us leapt out of her seat to join the beautiful gay gentlemen. Yes, shock horror; she attempted to pick up a gay man. Which ended in a heated exchange of words... we waited for the bitch slap that never came. What an eventful evening, it couldn’t have finished off any better than with a cup full of melted chocolate and some melt in your mouth churros. Shame you couldn’t be there Lanni.

The next day was Roula's Champagne Breakfast... not much needs to be said except yummy yum yum, too much food in the tum... and old ladies with condoms... Congratulations Roula, the Kitchen tea was fanulous.