Just in time for us to drive off on Sunday morning. Aaaah, bugger.
Not that food in AA is awful. It's just that it's mediocre. You pay a fair price in this town for uninspiring meals, often made with ho-hum ingredients. And there is rarely any sommelier on hand to give advice on the wine lists. By the time you add up the markup on the wine, you have a not-insignicant bill for a typically unmemorable meal.
Not so our indulgent girl dinner at the West End Grill, one of Gail and Foley's favourite haunts. It serves "new American" cuisine with Asian accents, but the exceptional and warm service sets it apart from the rest of the eateries in this student town. It's a romantic and elegant spot with lovely pressed metal ceilings, and is especially intimate when seated at the short bar in full view of the stained glass peacock.
Gail and I started with a scotch and a G&T respectively as we sampled the appetisers. The black and white sesame seed-coated Hawaiian ahi tuna was seared rare and supple, sliced for dipping into soy and wasabi, and sitting beside a sprightly green seaweed salad. The seafood strudel was a high point - a filo parcel of scallops, lobster and prawn in a rich bechemel sauce. We also had a plate each of teasers from the appetiser menu: southwestern crab cakes, shrimp 'lollipops' - crumbed, fried, with a tamarind-ginger sauce, and pan-fried veal dumplings wrapped in wonton skins with corn, which tasted in alternate mouthfuls of chinese chili and salsa.
Next up was a teacup of slow-roasted tomato and basil soup, then a plate of salad with crumbled blue cheese and dried cranberries. We also went with Jordan's recommendation of Duckhorn's 2003 Goldeneye Anderson Valley from California - which had all of the hallmarks and complexity of a great pinot.
We shared their signature dish, a luscious steak of Chilean sea bass, steamed in soy and ginger, before the main courses arrived: Tuscan swordfish and veal roulade. The swordfish was zesty with roasted tomato, basil and green olives, and the veal roulade was rich with brie, pancetta and porcini demi-glace, pooling alongside an opulent scoop of mash.
In lieu of dessert we had a generous splash of Buller's muscat, a solera nectar from the Victorian Rutherglen, and I could taste the Murray River sunshine.
My only regret is that we were too full to try their basket of beignet rolls.
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