On Monday night we went out for dinner to celebrate Marty's work mate's birthday. Because it was a public holiday, restaurants all over town were packed to capacity. This restaurant was recommended as maybe being the least full ... probably should have thought about that a bit more before we left.
We all met out the front of the apartment complex we are staying in. It was a particularly freezing evening. I had 'acclimatised' to the indoor temperature and was thoroughly warmed through as I was getting dressed to go outside. I casually threw on a short sleeved shirt and a cardigan. This was a mistake. As soon as we stepped outside, the cold cut through my massive eskimo jacket and hit me hard in the chest with a frozen whack!
When it is this cold, the solution would normally be to move faster, get the blood going, warm the body up ... but because the day had been relatively warm (just above 0), the snow had melted and gone slushy. As soon as the temperature drops at night, the slush/water turns to hard ice. So, all we could do that night, was slide very slowly towards the restaurant. The trick seems to be that if you walk arm in arm, the chances of both people falling over on their ass is slim, so at least one steady person can catch the other.
So, we continue our slow, skate to the Hunter's Lodge - both sure that we will be eating a real dinner when we finally get home.
As soon as we approach the Lodge, mix wild tiger and leopard printed walls explode out of the grey buildings beside it. There is a massive wooden door that swings open to reveal the authentically recreated Hunter's Lodge. As we step in we are greeted with a thick wall of smoke. As an act of courtesy to non smoking patrons, a smokers area has been established ... three feet from the rest of the restaurant and in the same room.
Walking through the smokers haze, we emerge into the Lodge itself. The room is a mix of rustic wood, old brick and dead native animal. To my left I see what looks like a giant otter, skinned, to my right, a massive bird, stuffed and mounted with its wings in full flight. As the evening goes on, I spot more and more catches proudly on display. 'Friends of the Lodge' have also contributed to the ruggedly real decor - their is a wall of glory, displaying proud men and their catches. One photo takes my fancy. The man is posed dressed in his best camouflage gear, holding a giant fish, squatting next to his cat. Hilarious! The cat looks just as serious as his owner.
The staff is dressed in appropriately themed hunting gear. The female waitstaff wear a creatively redesigned hunting vest, with animal print trim. The barman, and possibly owner, looks like he has literally just stepped back inside after shooting something. Opening the menu confirms my belief that this man is the owner - on the front page of the menu he stands, photographed in his best hunting outfit, holding a massive black gun. His face is stern and focused - he is ready for anything.
We order beer and start looking through the menu. We come across 'home made potatoes'. The Germans at our table tell us they are the most delicious potatoes they have ever had. How can we say no to that?
We order the potatoes, some 'salted cucumber' (turns out to be pickles) and buttered rice.
We wait for a while, having a chat with each other and the Germans who also work at the plant. Everyone seems pretty disgruntled at the projects progress. Marty has had a particularly bad day and drinks his beer with a sigh, and then orders another.
The potatoes turn out to be the savior of the evening - they are in fact genuine Russian potatoes - Dejenko style! They are amazing. We dive into our meals and all agree to come back to the Hunter's Lodge soon.
Once dinner is over, we head home. Our heads swimming from the beer, the cold and the decor. On the slow way home we can still taste the amazing potatoes on our lips. We'll be back hunting lodge.
We all met out the front of the apartment complex we are staying in. It was a particularly freezing evening. I had 'acclimatised' to the indoor temperature and was thoroughly warmed through as I was getting dressed to go outside. I casually threw on a short sleeved shirt and a cardigan. This was a mistake. As soon as we stepped outside, the cold cut through my massive eskimo jacket and hit me hard in the chest with a frozen whack!
When it is this cold, the solution would normally be to move faster, get the blood going, warm the body up ... but because the day had been relatively warm (just above 0), the snow had melted and gone slushy. As soon as the temperature drops at night, the slush/water turns to hard ice. So, all we could do that night, was slide very slowly towards the restaurant. The trick seems to be that if you walk arm in arm, the chances of both people falling over on their ass is slim, so at least one steady person can catch the other.
So, we continue our slow, skate to the Hunter's Lodge - both sure that we will be eating a real dinner when we finally get home.
As soon as we approach the Lodge, mix wild tiger and leopard printed walls explode out of the grey buildings beside it. There is a massive wooden door that swings open to reveal the authentically recreated Hunter's Lodge. As we step in we are greeted with a thick wall of smoke. As an act of courtesy to non smoking patrons, a smokers area has been established ... three feet from the rest of the restaurant and in the same room.
Walking through the smokers haze, we emerge into the Lodge itself. The room is a mix of rustic wood, old brick and dead native animal. To my left I see what looks like a giant otter, skinned, to my right, a massive bird, stuffed and mounted with its wings in full flight. As the evening goes on, I spot more and more catches proudly on display. 'Friends of the Lodge' have also contributed to the ruggedly real decor - their is a wall of glory, displaying proud men and their catches. One photo takes my fancy. The man is posed dressed in his best camouflage gear, holding a giant fish, squatting next to his cat. Hilarious! The cat looks just as serious as his owner.
The staff is dressed in appropriately themed hunting gear. The female waitstaff wear a creatively redesigned hunting vest, with animal print trim. The barman, and possibly owner, looks like he has literally just stepped back inside after shooting something. Opening the menu confirms my belief that this man is the owner - on the front page of the menu he stands, photographed in his best hunting outfit, holding a massive black gun. His face is stern and focused - he is ready for anything.
We order beer and start looking through the menu. We come across 'home made potatoes'. The Germans at our table tell us they are the most delicious potatoes they have ever had. How can we say no to that?
We order the potatoes, some 'salted cucumber' (turns out to be pickles) and buttered rice.
We wait for a while, having a chat with each other and the Germans who also work at the plant. Everyone seems pretty disgruntled at the projects progress. Marty has had a particularly bad day and drinks his beer with a sigh, and then orders another.
The potatoes turn out to be the savior of the evening - they are in fact genuine Russian potatoes - Dejenko style! They are amazing. We dive into our meals and all agree to come back to the Hunter's Lodge soon.
Once dinner is over, we head home. Our heads swimming from the beer, the cold and the decor. On the slow way home we can still taste the amazing potatoes on our lips. We'll be back hunting lodge.
So glad the potatoes were great!
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