...idea and I just needed to get it out on paper before my tongue twisted into a cork screw and shot straight into the nearest 'how many green bottles on the wall'. The food has arrived, passed over by the velvet suit wafting through the room. A sky scraper of truffle shavings and fungi, sitting inside an omelette ready to collide with realism as images of seagulls depositing on the windscreen come to mind. How far can we push this to the edge we wonder, as we lift our silver spoon and get ready to slurp. Tongue and Cheek. Right on...
One visit to this museum has the face splitting hairs while reception nails it over another nine. Sitting in place, the rock man stares blankly out, stone walling punters eager for a viewing. Just one taste of this place leaves the mind hungry as the feet wonder which way to hop for a feed. Down road and in store, the noodle maker pulls strings to get shoes in. Slide over, bang bang, knuckle up... Soup. This broth is delicious slurps the goose, bumping fists with jaw smacking goodness, ripe for the picking. It's a little bit funny, this freeing of mind. Fe Fi Phone home, and quick. This is gone...
Lets take Aim at this winery and say its the best kind of vice this side of the dice. This place rocks so hard its stoned all over in, well... schist. It just happens! As you enter the gate, you're drawn into a live chess game of 'whats for lunch I'm starving' as your stomach decides whether to castle or pawn another snack. One glide over the menu and your finger gets drunk on the mere whiff of a tasty vintage on the way from the bar. Brought over by the suit with more precision than a paper aeroplane sneaking out of your wallet. As your snacks arrive, first the fish and then the baked brie, you'll be texting Cinderella for her pumpkin and asking the Prince for a try on, just to see what happens if you don't make your curfew. The meal was a painting, almost too good to eat. So delicious you're thinking, while you arrange sticks on your plate like you're rowing for gold. If you're thinking wine and a tasty morsel, fling your way in here. It's Check Mate... here's a tip...
This Rrrrr...ip snorting ride is so flicken quick you'll be pressed to the back of your seat like a mother flippin pancake, basted and syrup'ed to your hearts content, while being dusted from the air like a good whippy from the nearest frosty cone. The full circle horizontal stunts proceeded by a deliberate hand motion'll have your face smiling so full it'll be charging for cheese from the local winery while the Joker calls make-up for copyright infringement... Freeze! As this gold jet skims across the pond and up 2 rivers, you'll be hoping for an exhilarating rush of scenery to fill your tin, and make no mistake, this ride takes the cake. Worth a short shot over the hill. I'd write more, but I gotta go... oh K, Jet. Good times...
Take one look around this restaurant and you'll feel like your tree house just exploded in the seat of its pants. As you take your place at the high table, the theatrics begin and the floral suit delivers with salt, no sweat, on a rock, with more charm than a Puff from the Magic Dragon. A delicate drop of grape jus slips nicely down the throat with a wee goats cheese prof, resisting the urge to have a great big scoff, whilst vigorously pulling apart the garlic chives from the bun. Whilst perusing the menu, a genie arrives from the other end with a sliced fillet from the Elvis of the sea. Along side this platter portrait of which I'm a great big fan, a line of red rare meat dares itself into your appetite while your fork gets an A++ for connecting all dots. Not merely content with an exhibition of exotic pantry staples, we find ourselves in dessert heaven while the spoon commits another felony and the tongue presses yet another charge. Not to be missed and more bang for your buck, your tongue'll be calling in to check reservations. Ra ra ra ta ta... it's a good romance, of food, and why not dive in. Your mouth thanks you for it. Advance...
A cool as journey into this slick cave leaves your brain doing maths, minus the 5, while your hand shoots itself off to the bar like an ice pick javelin, ready to freeze a Remarkable Raspberry to the side your brain. Pair that with a polar cocktail and you've got a revved up snow cone asking directions to the Milky Way. The air in this chiller is so freakin' cold, the hand begs the gloves for mercy, while brrrr, tongue tied licking the gin off the rim becomes your new habit. So rampant is this new hobby, you'll need to go to rehab to wipe the smile off your face while sliding across the floor towards the sign, Wet Wet. At the end of your stay, your gob'll be so smacked it'll be ordering a mix rocket toastie from the afterglow as the dicey water has another go at courage and delivers another round. Finishing off with a throw and another shot at fame. Flash ya mitts. I gotta hand it to ya, that's cool!...
This Lake House puts K in the alphabet while it creates beautiful memories for its guests. Sitting on the hill, this is the prime spot for breathing her in. Queenstown that is, and she sure is pretty. As you arrive, you'll be thinking you're in the forest when you're greeted in reception for checking in. Checking out all the stunning wood is a brilliant distraction as you trip to holiday mode faster than Little Red can say Riding Hood. The room itself is a haven and a stroll to the bar and restaurant is on the cards. The hanging fireplaces have you searching for bread in your pocket while ordering up a mix for tonsil trialling, so big and bad, you'll be wolfing down another, putting bucket on the list as the surrounding chairs await your comfort. The vibe here is so Nordic, you'll be wishing you packed your skis to boot it to the North Pole for a sledging and a double down. Jack that is, and what a house he built here. I highly recommend the deck, for epic photos your phone will enjoy. Take it all in, and relax. I like...
Receive your golden ticket or gasp at the thought of missing out as you eagerly await entry into this delicatessen. Situated on the corner in the New York sit eeee. Hurry up as you walk into pastrami pickle chaos, you're impressively flung into another era as corned beef sammies take flight from every base. Order up and your mind says Rueben while your heart says Rye, flinging in an extra hot dog and a fresh pickle, faster than a hot diggity dog snooping around Megs cup. As you await your delicious pastrami pier, your eyes focus the room for any available space, seeing a couple of cheers by the busy wall. This place gives memorabilia its meaning, overflowing with loudness in the best possible way. If you're in NYC, I highly recommend the towering stack... It's a great place to meat. Moo-eow...
Any trip to Dunedin just ain't complete without a quick fix to this banging restaurant. As you walk up from the Octagon, you're blissfully whisked away to another realm. Like a Tardis, you enter the cube. What awaits you in this magical land, makes the wardrobe wonder which way to lie. As your Bento arrives on cue, you contemplate dexterity as your fingers navigate all angles while looking up Nahnia on Google Maps. You're gonna want a long tall drink to wash away your sin after diving into your edible geometry. Looking so fine, all rolled up like a cash injection. You'll be humming all November long as you look into your rice. Sliver me timbers, this is art. So fishy your scale'll reset itself. So fruity, your Jack will sprout shoots. So minimally fine. A freaking institution is how I rate this place. Not to be missed. Be there or be Bento. It's a Tenor...
Over the ditch, let's enter Dracula's. A show of meat and 2 veg on the Golden Beach, not far from 'what is this I see', Bing Bang. As you enter the arena, the banter begins. First comes second here as your mind crosses the street while hailing a taxi from WTF. Once inside, your eyes wander, looking for landmarks and passing the salt from the stage, as peeps grind into 5th gear. Music shoots your ears, while on stage another idea erupts, in make up, from mouth, singing beautifully in character, and hitting the back wall. Too much for Plato, sends spoon running for cover on the end of its fork. Scraping the coffin, while poking the knife in. There's no words to describe this apocalypse, other than Apoca and Lips. Sink this ship, this show's going down. Hello...
