Almost perfect...
For Cdn, divide by 7...that's cheap!

Restaurant Review!

Ikea l Shatin l Kowloon

It was kind of funny. I was at the Ikea in Kowloon Bay a few weeks ago and I suddenly started craving Swedish meatballs. Who can say no to some meatballs in gravy, new potatoes, and lingonberry jam? They only had the hot dogs and soft serve at this location and the other three that I subsequently visited.

One day, while I was perusing the unassailable cannons of wikipedia, I came upon an article purporting that the flagship location in Shatin held an honest to god full on Ikea Restaurant. Seeing that I had some work to do their later that day, I made it a point to stop in for an early dinner.

After dropping off some parcels with a client, I turned towards the Ikea parkade and almost swerved onto the sidewalk. Right by the entrance was a picture of a chef and the words “Swedish Meatballs, $20.” I parked the car and worked my way through the displays at breakneck speed. It was late in the afternoon in that gray time between tea time and dinner so the place was quite empty. There they were, piled high in a pan staying warm in a steam tray. I waited patiently while the cook went to fetch a meal for a coworker which involved an insane amount of cream sauce over something that the two of them kept giving each other looks over. He was gone for an awfully long time so maybe the less said about it the better. American cheesecake rounded off my dinner choice along with a nice cup of coffee.

Meatballs smothered in gravy, tinged with a bit of lingonberry jam has that perfect salty, rich, tart, and sweet combination. The taste of boiled new potatoes both cleanses the palate and smoothes out the richness. The coffee was freshly ground and strong. I always like it when a place stands its ground a bit and chooses to walk the path of own its vision where it educates instead of compromises. I know its just Ikea and I know its just meatballs but I think this sort of lesson is important.

I dug into my American cheesecake and came back with…bland. You could barely taste the cheese and the cake itself was fluffy and airy. This is what is called a “light” cheesecake. This is a cake I despise. Listen, its cheesecake. Its suppose to taste like cheese. It’s suppose to be bold, not this neutered half cake that will never know the joy of conceiving flavor. I’m not saying this because I dislike local preferences; it’s the principle of not letting the vision water down so that you can reach a wider audience. Should I get upset that Ngau Kee doesn’t make their beef fried noodles like everyone else? No. Do I get upset when the strangely hot gangster boss lady with her cheesy Scorpio with roses tattoo gets ticked at a table of foul mouthed dock workers for swearing too much? Of course not. The day will come when she will hoist her rusty cleaver in the air like a shining beacon of Camelot and rally her loyal crew around her and I will be the first to flip my table over and join her with my folding stool cudgel for lust fears no sacrifice and mediocrity bears no champions.