Guzman y Gomez

Its a mid-week excursion this time due partly to a booking, for The Theatre, Darling, on friday night, and to an argument about whose turn it was to do the cooking. It should have been me, but after my triumph with crumbed cutlets on Sunday night I had run out of ideas. (The crumbed cutlets were excellent if I do say so myself, even thought the only crumbs available on short notice were quinoa infused – but don’t get me started on the whole quinoa thing).

So it’s a quick Dogbladder at the Marly before we rendezvous at tonight’s target, Guzman y Gomez. But after sticking our noses in the Mexican’s door we quickly decide that one big table in the middle (currently fully occupied by Young People) does not qualify as tables and chairs as defined under Rule 4 (thank you Rob.) Having already eaten once or twice at Newtown’s GyG, and many times at the Australia Square GyG, I am prepared to make a call on the whole Mexican Standoff thing. GyG is better than Mad Mex because I have never had a cold burrito there.

We quickly reverse out of GyG to see what is next on the running sheet. And there it is, right next door: the prequel to Newtown Thai 2. Oh dear. Be brave.

On the bright side however Newtown Thai has a door that closes and glass in the windows to keep the winter chill out, so at least we will be warm. It is also very busy which is a good sign. After a quick scan of the drinks menu we decide that the Ice Pinky or the Ice Greeny are just not going to cut it tonight. We are going to need alcohol. So while Strop settles in and does the ordering, I toddle back up the road to purchase some beers to lubricate the passage of the food and ease the up-welling of the chat.

I have barely prised the tops off a couple of bottles of White Rabbit/Dark Ale with my trusty aluminium extrusion key-ring bottle opener (courtesy of a window salesman who mistook me for an architect), when a couple of mixed plates of entrees arrive at the table. The highlights are some nice succulent satay sticks and the deep fried bread with minced chicken topping (enigmatically called Kar Nom Pang Nar Kai). Already this place is better than its sequel.

Next up is the obligatory Number 37, which tonight has turned out to be a salad. Even though it is a cold night, this is a pleasant change. In the past number 37 has usually fallen into the stir fry or stewy section of the menu. Plar Goong is a prawn salad with big juicy prawns and lots of greenery and plenty of flavour. It is tonight’s winner as the last dish, Mussoman Curry is a real let down. The sauce is very sweet, the peanuts look as if they have been sitting in it for a long time, and the beef is dry and over-cooked. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the potatoes.

As it is a school night, we decide not to risk dessert and instead wander back down the hill to the safety of Camperdown, in plenty of time to fall asleep in front of Gruen Nation.

Newtown Thai is better than it’s sequel but there are plenty of better choices for Thai food on King Street. Next up is a vegetarian joint across the road, and a date with Nedsky.

It’s Saturday night and King Street is busily pumping itself up into a crescendo as we arrive at Mad Mex with Em, Chris, Tess and the tiny terriers Will and Charlie. What was originally planned as an adults only evening at Corridor has morphed, a week later, into a family outing to Mad Mex. At the end of the evening, as we saw the cousins off safely strapped into their family-sized wagon, Strop turned to me and said “God, I’m glad I don’t have a 4 year old and a 2 year old,” rapidly followed by “I need a scotch.” Yes folks, the two Tiny Terrier Tornados gave the Mad Masked Mexican wrestlers a run for their money.

Mad Mex looks like a fun place, with huge murals of masks and lots over-size meaningless text on the walls. There are fun colourful signs, helpfully numbered so you know how to order. Pick one from column 1, add a dash of column 2, and a slurp of column 3, fold on the dotted line and insert tab B into slot C. Any place where they have to teach you the ordering system is a worry to me. The other worry was the noise. Mad Mex is from the open-fronted school of retail catering and is right next to a bus stop. I have a theory that Sydney has the noisiest buses in the world. I have no proof of this other than the damage done to my own ears, but I have been told that apprentice bus mechanics are taught the fine art of muffler perforation and fan-belt loosening in their first year at TAFE. When the frequent coming and going of buses was combined with the heavily accented front of house crew, the ordering process was reduced to pointing and shouting.

We went for a variety of burritos, naked burritos, and quesadillas. Strop and I also decided to share the Bucket-Of-Coronas-Plus-Nachos deal as a point of direct comparison with Guzman y Gomez, the other nearby Mexican fast food franchise which is coming up fairly soon. Generally, it has to be said, the food was underwhelming even if it is all wholesome, sustainable and pain-free as promised on the website. My burrito was mostly cold and the nachos were fairly free of flavour. Em commented that the only reason she finished her strawberry margarita was because it had alcohol in it. The beer was pretty good though.

While the rest of us were struggling to finish our red foil clad food, discussing new gas heaters and the turmoil of home renovations, the tiny terriers were getting restless (hard to imagine why, I know). They weren’t going to be mollified by colourful murals, nor are they the kind of kids that can be diverted by getting them to re-stack the sugar packets. No, these guys needed warm dough, sugar and an engaging wide-screen visual experience. Cue the churros with chocolate sauce and a window seat on King Street, where they were soon regaling the passing parade with their best Iron Man moves while sucking down the strangely straight, but really quite nice, churros. This ploy worked for a while and we had more conversations about reverse cladding and storm-water drainage, but Chris had to intervene when Charlie tried to pick a fight with a Buck’s Night group dressed in animal-skin onesies. Charlie was adamant that Iron Man could kick their collective weirdo arses if he put his mind to it. He was right of course, the only strange thing was that Will was the one wearing the Iron Man hoodie.

So that was Mad Mex. We’re are going to have to find someone to represent the Man Of Steel when we go to Guzman y Gomez, just to keep the contest even.

177 Newtown Thai …and the winner is: Menu Item 37

156 Mad Mex – Iron Man vs King Street Weirdos in Animal Onesies