Being the resident foodie in the company, my brains are often picked when it comes to choosing restaurants for my agency’s Christmas parties, leaving dos and client dinners… But this Christmas, I resolutely refused. It’s bad enough choosing dinner locations for your friends, let alone your more-than-discerning boss, your vegetarian colleague, and your fussy-eater of a manager.
So how it was we ended up at new Asian restaurant Momo on the Hobbemastraat, I have no idea. But at least I wasn’t taking the rap if it was bad…And bad it was purported to be by the few reviewers who’ve managed to get a table there so far.
To be fair to the Momians, the food wasn’t that bad at all. Most of us ordered a Bento Box – of which there were about six to choose from, each costing €17.50 and each comprising four elements presented in a… well, a box, as you might expect. And there was nothing wrong with the contents of the boxes, lest the fact that the portion sizes appeared to be wildly different depending on which box you took. Admittedly, I was feeling smug about the fact that I was getting away with black cod and ‘marbled’ beef for the same price as the chicken and vege options – until the box arrived and I realized that the chefs had just halved my lunch. Not so smug now, and not so happy either.
The miso soup we had to start was good, and the desserts (such that they were) were more edible than expected. The Navarra rose we ordered was also extremely drinkable – to the point that very little work got done on the Friday afternoon subsequent.
But you might reasonably suspect me of damning with faint praise here – glossing over the negatives in much the way of politicians. And diplomacy was never my strong point. On ordering the wine, we were told that the restaurant didn’t have it ‘yet’; I can understand running out of a particular bottle, but putting it on the wine list when it’s never even appeared in the cellar? And the ‘yet’ was apparently wrong after all, as the wine was discovered ten minutes later. Meanwhile, my boss was waiting for warm sake… and waiting… and waiting. At the end of the meal, no one appeared to know which sorbets, ice creams or cheeses were available – which is pretty laughable given that these were the only desserts on the menu. Then, having confidently assured us of the three ice cream flavours, an entirely different set appeared on my colleagues’ plates. The service was at best a comedy, at worst a tragedy. Either way it was a performance.
My advice: leave it a year, and if it’s still in business, give Momo a try. But don’t take your clients – just in case.
