Jester Seeds

Another weekend, another cocktail bar, such is the life of the King Street Questers. We hadn’t included Kuleto’s in our calculations until last weekend, when as we poured ourselves out of Corridor, we noticed a photocopied piece of paper in the window of Kuleto’s that was headlined FOOD. So here we are on Friday night at the start of Happy Hour-and-a-Half, sitting near the door, perusing the two-for-one cocktail offerings. The rather uninspiring list makes me nostalgic for the long lost Jester Seeds once again – it is heavy on the white spirits and fruit syrups. We opt for a pair of Long Island Iced Teas to start with, which turn out to be good, but unfortunately they are the high point for the eventing. The FOOD on offer turns out to be either hot-dogs or tasting plates. Strop manages to talk me out of a Texan Hot Dog by doing her only-speaking-in-questions-thing until she gets the Right Answer, and we order a smoked salmon and a salami tasting plate.

Happy Hour is working well, sucking punters in off the street by the taxi load despite the awful 90s music. They are predominantly young women with a smattering of young men, who know when they are onto a good thing, in tow. The hysteria level start out mild, but rapidly increases in volume and intensity as everyone rushes to have their inhibitions hammered out of shape for the start of the weekend.

A young woman at the next table has a laugh that could kickstart an ElectraGlide.

The staff behind the bar is kept busy by the throng, especially the dangerous-looking Lara Croft impersonator, who is dressed in black, with a utility belt full of cocktail-making essentials, and has an enormous bottle opener strapped to her forearm. This woman means business.

We decide to go with the flow and move on to another cocktail. This time a Thai Iced Tea which comes with lychee liqueur and is a bit sweet for my taste until I hit the pure vodka layer at the bottom.

The FOOD turns out to be underwhelming. $10 buys you six small water crackers with nori, smoked salmon and some of those black seed things that come on lebanese bread. There is more lime than smoked salmon on the well-used chopping board that it is presented on. The salami board is a bit better with about half a french bread stick sliced up, some gherkin and three types of salami.

We decide to stick around and see what happens when Happy Hour ends, which will of course require another cocktail to occupy us. This time we go for Hawaiian Splice which is pretty much what you would expect except for the melon liqueur lurking at the bottom. I really must remember to mix these things up before I start to suck on the straw. Or better yet just stick to whisky.

The end of happy hour is marked by a barman going around all the tables confiscating the two-for-one cocktail menus. Soon after groups of sozzled young people start stumbling out onto the street looking for the next piece in their weekend puzzle. We lick out the last sticky remains in our glasses and stumble out after them, looking for something to eat. Luckily we are just next door to Istanbul On King where they serve food rather than FOOD.

The first disappointment was Star Trek – a big, big mistake. I tried to defend it from Strop’s scathing assessments but came up with nothing – she even hated the continuity. I have totally blown any action film goodwill I may have been able to generate over the years, in the two and a half hours that travesty took to unfold. It’s going to be payback time from now on – lots of meaningful subtitles and issues-based capital C Cinema. Oh well, I’ll just get on with watching Game of Thrones on my own – no change there.

The second disappointment came in the form of our first quest casualty. We arrived on-site at 127 King Street only to find Jester Seeds a darkened husk. We had only been there the Friday before, when we had a very enjoyable end to our evening at Asakusa, getting merry with exotic cocktails. Now, only a brief week later, it has gone. Our first real-time example of the infamous King Street Churn. We cursed, we ummed, then we turned left and went next door to Kai on King. The quest’s first sushi train. Toot toot – insert link to train whistle mp3 file here.

Now we'll never know what that stupid name meant — Now we’ll never know what that stupid name meant

Sushi train – there is so much to like about the concept. Yum Cha meets industrial revolution? Yum Cha for robots? I don’t know why but I am inordinately fond of a dining experience that involves moving food. It adds a whole other layer of excitement and tension, and it often leads to the deposition of new layers of body fat as well. As the food comes towards you there is lots of anticipatory salivation as you try to work out what it is, then there is the moment of query as it reaches the apex of its trajectory relative to your orbit, “Sushi with green things and black sprinkles on the outside. Do we want that?” While you are trying to decide, it starts to move away from you and panic sets in. Quick get it, you think, before it goes, before someone else takes it. (Just wondering, has anyone ever been tempted to pick up someone else’s bag at an airport luggage carousel? Just to see what happens? No, me either.)

Following our poor choices last week at Asakusa, Strop informs me that she has made a new temporary rule: no more deep fried anything. I regretfully agree as I watch the soft-shell crab sushi trundle quietly past.

As we had anticipated, the Kai on King sushi train contains a lot of sushi, but there is also a smattering of sashimi and little signs advertising hot soupy and noodle-y foods as well. Wasabi, ginger and a very cute mayonnaise bottle go past, and there is a tense moment when Strop decants their contents into little bowls then manages to get the containers back into their original spaces on the conveyor belt as they go past on the return journey, by leaning precariously over the tracks. The ginger is the good not-pink kind, but the bulk wasabi turns out to be disappointingly mild and we resort to the little sachet stuff, which happily produces the correct level of nasal conflagration. Mayonnaise drizzling is very evident in the sushi (a trend I personally deplore), but we still manage to fill ourselves up without too much effort, leaving quite a stack of plates for the cashier person to count.

It's ok, I can do it — It’s ok, I can do it

There is nothing fancy here – it is an adequate, comfy local eatery. They even have a pile of magazines for you to read if you are so inclined or a bit lonely. I imagine it is reasonably popular with local students but I can’t imagine going out of our way to eat here again.

Next up is the highly anticipated Atom – lots of good reports have been word-of-mouthed to us – and the return of Number 37. Can’t wait.

157 Kuleto’s – Happy Hour-and-a-half and the FOOD fiasco

129 – Kai on King – Our first casualty leads to food that flees and the thrill of the hunt