It is my belief that all too often when you find chicken on the menu at a decent restaurant it's there as a sop to those horrible guests who have developed a fear of more interesting food.
As such the kitchen often doesn't try that hard with the chicken - after all, it's there for the philistines. And that makes it the perfect test of the care and skill of the chef. Anyway I only order it when I'm expecting that care to be evident. Which it was tonight at Range, in spades. Only the memory that chicken bones kill dogs stopped me from crunching down on them so succulent and, all too rare these days, chicken-y, was the dish.
A starter of pork spare ribs was treacle rich and again, gnawed to the bone. Apple tart with cardamon ice cream, and a well made espresso closed a very impressive meal.
One last word: the service was exceptional, and what a difference that makes. With cocktails (corpse reviver #2 and a piñata) the cheque came to under $70 before tip. Super.
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