Food Review - The Coffee Club: Warwick, QLD Branch

I'm not one to normally complain about restaurant food. In fact, there's no 'normally' about it. In my 31 years I never have! Until now, of course. Since today's encounter with Warwick's Coffee Club (not Warwick Kappa's by the way; the Warwick, QLD branch of the exponentially growing Coffee Club Franchise), I've loathed to eat anything at all.

After our two-and-half hour excursion up the Cunningham Highway, my wife had the idea of some cuisine other than your stock standard trans-fat delights of McDonalds, KFC et al. The Coffee Club was earmarked feast of the other worldly variety. How thing's quickly turned sour.

Once arrived and seated, the waitress took our order. We waited patiently and in no time at all, the meals arrived. Typical Coffee Club, I thought. Nice short, sharp service.

My wife grimaced as if she'd just caught whiff of some body odour from the bloke at the neighbouring table, only she was looking down at her food; Eggs Benedict.

The toast (or some fancy name for such) was as pale as a pint of milk. It was stale bread at best, glorified toast by the maker who was saving electricity at worst. The ham would've made my cat recoil in fright, while the eggs were as raw as a greyhound's dinner. This trio was drowned (yes, drowned) in hollandaise sauce, which was undoubtedly the worst facet of the dish. The stuff almost dripped from the side of the plate there was that much of it. The smell? Well, let's just say the bloke at the neighbouring table's body odour was a better proposition. The sauce appeared to be mixed with out-of-date sour cream and Hulk Hogan's preserved piss of at least twenty years! There may've been a skerrick of mustard in it, but I didn't want to inspect too close.

My wife placed it to one side in displeasure. Her pot of tea wasn't too bad, despite the fact it probably comprised of Black & Gold tea bags, which the fine folk at the Coffee Club no doubt made a hefty profit on, with an 80 per cent mark-up or the like.

Whilst I looked on in dread at the Eggs Benedict, I'd completely forgotten about my own meal; a ham, cheese, and tomato toasted sandwich. The staple lunch for a meat and two veg. man. Let's just say it 'was' a staple lunch in my dietary repertoire.

For a start, the bread was a like doorsteps. Like my wife's, it was also ghost pale. The margarine oozed from the 'toast' which made it soggy (all the hallmarks of 'bread', I'd say). The ham was indeed worse than the Eggs Benedict's. It made the arteries shrink and harden in equal measure. The cheese looked like it'd been recycled and even then, I doubt if it'd melted properly in the first instance. By this point, I didn't even bother looking at the tomato...

So I leaned back on my chair and thought to myself, at least I still have my mug of cappuccino! I took one sip and belched in utter repulsion. The coffee was so burnt I almost saw the bottom of the mug smouldering. I shifted it to one side in disgust. Had I taken another sip, my breathe would've been likened to the smell of a bear's arsehole!

We got up and left the food behind. I felt sorry for the entity to which our leftovers would be presented. Probably an employee's pet dog who will be scarred for life by the experience. That's if the poor thing survives...

Thirty-four dollars and eighty cents. Daylight robbery redefined. The waitress didn't even ask how our meal was, despite the fact we were up and down so quick we almost contracted the bends!

The Coffee Club. I used to enjoy our time together. As they say, all good things must come to an end. If I were the QLD health authorities I'd be breaking a leg to get to Warwick.

This isn't 1 star, "poor" this is 0 stars and "piss poor"!

By Simon K.