Green 19

Myself and Tara were hell bent of heading out for something to eat tonight, we hadn't been in a restaurant in about a month so we said to our selves, We don't give a shit what anyone has to say about it, we are going out for something to eat. People can have their opinions about the whole situation but one thing is for sure, we were going to have someone cook for us and we going have someone serve on us hand and foot

And it is business as usual, if you were to pick 2 of the most indecisive cunts on the planet, its myself and my bird. We are literally traipsing the streets of Dublin looking for the perfect place. The place that we both know is going to satisfy both of us. Not a place we had been before. It was gonna be one of those nights where we get a little bit adventurous, a little bit daring. The place had got to be of equal interest to the two of us but yet carry that element of funkiness that other restaurant didn't.

Eventually the two of us are stopped; standing in the middle of Camden St., knackered because we had been walking for about a fucking hour trying to find a place. At this stage, we were starting to feel a bit faint, hunger is truly kicking in, we had to find a place. We go to flip between Green 19 and Bobos. I know, I know we said we wanted to go somewhere that we had never been but Bobos is so fucking good and the only other place on Camden St. that I’ve even thought about is Green 19 but never went because it looks a bit too salady. We flip, heads for Bobos and harps for Green 19. Harps it is and in we go, delighted with ourselves.

We sit down on these high stool at these high tables where if people are sitting beside you, they are very much sitting beside you, you can hear every word of their conversation. This is made doubly weird by the fact that the cunt sitting beside Tara, opposite me, is Shane Horgan, the Irish rugby player and as he is signing a rugby ball, Tara asks me the best question in the history of questions - 'Does that chun play rugby or something?' - Fucking Legend.

I have to say the place was very nice, bright and warm with some low funky house music being pumped in. I immediately felt relaxed and, to tell you the truth, I was feeling very uncharacteristically adventurous about what I was going to eat. I had been watching 'Come Dine With Me' all week so I was up for it. Ready. I coolly looked at my menu getting ready to glance over the main courses and casually pick the most out there fucking dish. Tara said she was gonna go basic tonight and go for the Green 19 burger, which seemed to be in front of every single person in the place and I could see why. They looked tasty as a motherfucker.

I remembered from one of the shows I had watched during the week that this dude made a venison pie which looked the shit and low and behold on the menu, what do you know, Venison Pie with Horseradish Mash with Gravy. . . . . . . . . I said to myself, fuck it, 'I'll have the venison, please.' Tara looked at me in shock. 'Baby, are you sure.' she says 'I was born sure.' I said, with an annoying little grin on my face. I sat in anticipation for the next hour. Shitting myself.

Drinks, I asked the girl were any of the beers, pint bottles, she said, 'Yes, all of them, Sir.' That is what I am fucking talking about. The one thing I can not stand is when I go to a place and you politely say, 'Yes, I'll have a Budvar, please.' and your man brings you over a small bottle of beer. . . . . . . . one of those long neck things. . . . Why do you stock them when you can just stock the normal pint bottle size, I’d be asking in my head. Are you trying to annoy me? Do you want me to come back here again? I swear to god, I have not gone back to places because of that sort of shit and, you know what, I will go back to a place pacifically because of it too. Like as in, if they stock the large bottles as apposed to the other. Anyways, Green 19 passed the first Jack test with flying colours, Pint Bottles of Beer; listen up, all you other places, when I order a bottle of beer for a fiver I don't want to feel like I’m being ripped off when a mingy little 330ml bottle is put in front of me. Lads in the restaurant business, if ever you are going to take any advice from me, take this, change what your doing with the fuckin bottles and shut up!

The food comes and it looks sweet. The portion is a little bit small but myself and my mate, Greg, who are both of the portly posture, have come to the realisation that this whole stuff ourselves until we cant move buzz, is not only helping us on our way to sphericalness but it is no way to enjoy your food. So we have both made a pact that small portions are the best option. It’s nice to feel nicely full and all that. You shouldn’t have to open your pants after every single meal.

I delve in through the pastry to get at the venison which I have never had before and was very much looking forward to it and fucking hell, it was tasty; the meaty flavour was so strong and went with some mixed vegetables in this kind of pepper gravy. The mash potato was in one of those neat egg shapes at the side of the plate and to say it was a lovely experience putting it into my mouth is a complete understatement. Up there with one of the tastiest mashes I've had, although, and I know I'm sticking with the whole Greg thing and all that, I could of done with a little bit more of it. I had a taste of T-Bags Burger and it was as good as it looked, pity about the chips though, overdone, over crispy little excuse for chips but, 'Hay, that was the only thing I found to be negative.'

The bill came to 30 euro, for 2 meals and 2 beers, that is a pretty fucking savage deal and stick a starter, a desert and a few more drinks there, you could get away handsomely with 50 squids. It has an area upstairs for big parties aswell which I must put forward as an idea to everyone one day.

Anyway, I am nicely full, nicely high; Paddy's Day is coming so I'm off to bed to recharge the batteries. It’s gonna be a big one