09.12.2011 Metropolis Eating House
My boss insisted that we have our end of the year work lunch here, at this place I’ve never heard of that he described as “sort of odd” or something. As I’m always up for “sort of odd” I was compliant.
We entered into a fairly mundane foyer, but on climbing the inappropriately large and sweeping staircase were suddenly transported to some other place, far from Sydney Road and Brunswick. Somewhere out of our normal sphere where people sat for drinks then moved to their eating tables. Where you use a linen napkin and say things like “yaas the 2008 will have to do”. Somewhere like Toorak.
Surrounded by lush as all get out furnishings and high ceilings with stupidly dripping chandeliers, gorgeous lyre bird wall paper flashing away, we ate this wee little starter of sardines and like, the stuff that cucumbers exhale, or something, and then a leg of duck. I am not used to my food looking better and more organised than my bedroom.
I was naturally giddy with excitement, and to top it off our waiter/the owner was French and so everything he said was the most perfect and true and lovely thing I’ve ever heard, even “yes, my staff, I fired them all”.
Surreal, giggly, drinkie, Frenchie experience.
