Dear Veranda Bistro,
As a rule, I don't write
restaurant reviews, mostly because I'm not even remotely qualified for culinary
critique. Also, because chicken tarragon is chicken tarragon is chicken
tarragon. And because handing out hate is horrible and karma is cruel. But
every now and then, I’ve been known to bend, or better yet, break my own rules
and make rare exceptions.
Congratulations, you’ve
made the cut!
I’m going to take a moment
to make it clear that I delay creating drama until the chaos warrants me to wake
the demon inside. In other words, I realize that running a restaurant involves
a ridiculous amount of pressure, but beyond a reasonable point, I don’t believe
in doling out the benefit of doubt.
And after last night’s
experience, I think I’m exceptionally lucky to have lived to tell the tale.
I’m sure plenty of people
peg Veranda Bistro as some of the finest of Lahore’s fine-dining scene. Call me
crazy, but I’m not convinced.
Why?
We’ll get this going with
a word about the wait-staff.
