Cafe Too - Island Shangri La

Today's first official outing for the buffet buffs, plus Guest (J's boy toy, aka flavor of the last three years). Unfortunately, J had committed buffet-cide (not to be confused with buffet sides), by going to two previous buffets prior to the scheduled one. She argues that this shows dedication, but I advocate a clearly defined buffet approach, which includes an empty stomach and cleansed palate pre-buffet.

Ergo, preparation for day of buffet: half a bowl of oatmeal in the morning. Strategic buffet wear: Juicy terry tube top/dress with no visible waist definition to speak of.



Cafe Too is the combination of a Marche and a typical innocuous looking cafe where the owner had no concept of the decor but wanted to make money from coffee-drinking masses. And, of course, Cafe One.

The tables spaced together like a typical Chinese restaurant for maximum return, but not so close as to offend space-loving tourists. Towards one end of the expansive eatery were themed stations, comprising Indian, Chinese, Japanese and a dessert island.






First Plate: Tuna pizza, tandoori chicken, naan bread, pullao rice, curry sauce, dahl.
Curiously placed tuna pizza among an assortment of curries drew me to the Indian station first. The tandoori chicken was tender and rice well-steamed (what else can you say about rice). Only the dahl was sub par, but the truth is that good dahl is hard to find these days. Much like a good proctologist. Or so I hear. Anyways, good dahl in my book is the kind that is all slimy. That does not sound as appetizing as it is.


Second Plate: Ravioli with tomatoes, ham slices, mushrooms and sliced squash in tomato sauce.
Very excited at the sight of Pasta Station. Reminiscent of fresh pasta cooked on the spot in Wegman's with delectable vodka sauce. Began taking photos of Station with cook at work. To enhance Italian vibe, cook made feeble flirtatious comments (cook was after all not Italian, but Chinese). Pasta was shit. Moving on.




Third Plate: Dessert break! (BB tip: Cutting savory courses with sweet plate will enhance eating power) Chocolate cake, chocolate-dipped marshmallows, chocolate-dipped strawberries, cream-filled profiterole.
Well deserved chocolate break. Encountered my first chocolate fountain ever (which J has had much previous experience with, so she claims). It was a thing of beauty. A fountain of glistening sheets of chocolate goodness will not be denied. The chocolate cake was so-so. Deceiving appearance of being rich, Death By Chocolate-style chocolate cake, but more Betty Crocker. The profiterole was almost impenetrable, not what you expect from a light, flaky pastry.

Fourth Plate: Cold Soba noodles, smoked salmon slices, brie on bread, prosciutto ham, grapes (ultimately untouched).
Starting to lose form and piling whatever onto plate. The noodles were ok. None of the bounciness you expect from good soba. The Western style appetizers were so-so. Which was almost to be expected, being that they were relegated to a non-visible part of the restaurant, with no chef-types in attendance. Staring at giant grapes on plate, could not help thinking of genetic modification, and so they were ultimately forsaken.



Fifth Plate (we did not start this blog for nothing): Banana and vanilla ice cream crepe with chocolate and custard sauce, more chocolate-dipped marshmallows, apple tart, fruit-topped and cream-filled white chocolate cone, poached pear pastry (aw yeh, alliteration baby).
Crepe was very close to the consistency of paper. Confession: I grabbed the white chocolate cone in a fit of 'just because I can'. I hate white chocolate, nasty stuff.





Sixth Plate: Gelatin/chocolate/fruit cakelet, sugary white egg concoction, yet more chocolate-dipped marshmallows.
Starting to hallucinate now. Could have sworn I saw a boy wearing a "Treat Animals Badly" shirt - was actually 'kindly', not 'badly'. Saying half sentences and assuming positions of recline. Also started to experience dreaded food coma (dreaded only because it means have to stop eating, but quite a pleasant feeling in truth).

This is where we decided to stop (well, J squeezed in one more bowl of ho fan). Not bad for a first concentrated effort, if I do say so myself. J and I nearly matched each other plate for plate - we don't call ourselves buffet buffs for nothing. Dammit. Guest was a little less on the ball. Piling single plates with entire meals, he only got through three. No buffet mentality, but is merely Guest. He does not have a name to live up to.

Although no unbuttoning was required, we were fairly full to bursting, and had to waddle out to the taxi stand. In the cab, we had to refrain from spewing from all the lurching the cabbie was doing.

Of course, if it was a really good buffet, with a truly tasty selection, we'd be at death's door.