Pura Brasa

Je pense que le traitement de la vitamine C est efficace! J'ai eu ma deuxième dose de vaccin et les effets secondaires ont été beaucoup moins graves. J'ai encore des vertiges de temps en temps mais c'est beaucoup moins en degré et en occasion. J'ai repris l'exercice, et et je suis très heureux de retrouver un peu de normalité et surtout dans ma qualité de vie. J'en avais vraiment besoin, je devenais déprimé et frustré que ma qualité de vie a affectée par le vertige. 

 

Bien que je ne sois pas encore rétabli, j'y arriverai!

 

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I struggled when writing about this. In recent times, I've tried to be kind(er) to the eateries I review. F&B is already a notoriously unforgiving industry, and with the relentless pandemy onslaught, I try as best I can to extend a little more compassion to the restaurants currently battling the dining restrictions. And so I've either refrained from blogging about places that just aren't up to scratch, or spun my review in a way that mostly showcases a restaurant's strengths. 

Pura Brasa's food was faultless, I had no issues there. It was their service, which was contrarily appalling and consummate all at once. 

 

So...u know how, with some family businesses, nepotism breeds a certain incompetent, incorrigible monster of an employee? The stereotype of a related party who got the job not because they were qualified, but because, well, relations. Well, we unfortunately bore the brunt of an analogous experience for dinner. 

 

The hoo-hah all started because we requested a change of tables: our original table was situated in some dank spot so we could barely see our food, and we had seen a family unit finishing up their meal at a table which was brightly lit. The waitress we'd first spoken to, a floor manager of sorts we believe, turned down our request, informing that the table was already reserved for the next set of customers, who were purportedly on their way. 

 

Alright. No biggie. We sat down, asked for wet towelettes so we could wipe down the table and chairs as they were mottled with bird shit (we would have asked them to do so but they already took 20+ minutes to seat us despite having had reservations and we weren't up for waiting another 20-odd minutes before we could sit down, so we thought we'd do the cleaning ourselves), and started ordering.

 

However, not 10 minutes later, we saw another group of already seated diners (they were also at a table that was poorly illuminated) shift tables over to said brightly lit table. Obviously we were confused. So we sought an explanation from said waitress. Who then gave us what sounded like an abysmally stitched together excuse: that the other group of diners had earlier asked for a change of tables. Like us, except they did so before us.

 

When the discrepancy in explanations was made clear to said waitress (table being reserved for a new set of customers with reservations is not the same thing as another set of diners "chope-ing" said table for a change of tables), she then informed that she would go find out what actually happened, went off and never came back. 

 

Perhaps it's our fault, we might have gotten better service if we didn't send the minority race in our group to raise the initial request because Chinese privilege is real yo, but we detest being taken for a fool, so we tried to escalate the matter, when our waiter served our drinks. He was trying to mollify us when a woman, claiming to be the owner of the restaurant, came over guns a-blazing, voice raised, that even she, the owner of the restaurant, had to sacrifice her table for that group of diners. She was so noble, so virtuous, and the poor thing allegedly hadn't even had dinner because she had been busy working non-stop serving customers (I'm not sure how true that was, because we saw her spend the majority of our dinner seated at another table chatting and drinking with a friend). But it was our fault really, we had wrongly assumed she was some beer lady who'd gotten lost from the coffee shop nearby, and failed to accord her the respect and reverence worthy as the venerated owner of the restaurant. It was also our fault, that we didn't know that the owner of the restaurant had so honorably given up that brightly lit table to a group of diners, and if an esteemed owner of the restaurant could do that, we as mere plebes should have simply been grateful for whatever table was conferred to us. 

 

You know, all we wanted was an explanation, a cogent explanation, and if the staff had just been honest: that they were short-staffed, overwhelmed, and/or apologised for the blunder, we would have absolutely let the matter rest. Instead, we felt like we were front-and-centre to a ludicrous sideshow of a crass brutish egomaniac akin to Elon Musk's crazed tweeting rampages. Or those of Trump before he was muzzled. 

Now, the part that I struggled with: our waiter was actually awesome. He was conciliatory and sweet and profuse in his apologies for the cock-up. It was a disappointing irony that it was the rank and file that provided service recovery for the gaffes of upper management. Still, we were sorry that he felt he had to atone for someone else's missteps. Especially since he kindly comp-ed our dessert (even though the possibility of eating spit-filled food definitely discounted the perk of free food). 

 

If there's anything we truly regret, it's that we should have given our feedback at the end of the meal, and not insisted on seeking clarification halfway through the starters, because we were all somewhat convinced we ingested copious amounts of spittle that night. Well, none of us got Covid-19 or diarrhoea so there's that. 

That being said, would we return? Highly doubtful. We're not keen on enriching the coffers of someone thoroughly unlikable. But hey, if we ever struck the lottery and decided to set up a restaurant, our waiter would be the first hire on our payroll. 

So anyway, back to the food, we loved it. Everything we ordered was fantastic, with a couple of memorable standouts. Still, with first-rate Spanish restaurants a dime and dozen, Pura Brasa's offerings were not sufficiently exceptional to surmount the inadequacies of its management lacking the requisite service standards.

The Spanish Omelette ($16), dotted with chorizo and topped with aioli, was delicious, and the crystal bread was a lovely touch.

The Prawn Casserole ($20) of sweet prawns sizzling in olive oil, garlic, and chilli, was commendable.

The Patata Bravas ($9) was drenched in a rich cream. and dusted with paprika for a little heat. Simple but scrumptious.

The Spanish Croquettes ($15), spotted with chicken and pork ham, boosted a superb crunch.

The Iberico de Bellota ($38) was a wonderfully salty unctuous pairing to the juicy piquancy of the crushed Roma tomatoes schmeared atop the bread toasts.

We love our bread (#fatlifechoseme) and ordered another plate of Crystal Bread ($6) to accompany the Spanish charcuterie.

We've been having the best luck with octopus lately, and the Grilled Octopus Leg ($36), sided by a mousseline potato truffle puree, was superb.

The Josper Grilled Spanish Pork Ribs ($45 for the full rack) slow-cooked for 20 hours at 75C, then finished at 400C, was well-marinated and fall-off-the-bone tender. A signature for good reason.

A must try, the flavoursome Spanish Charcoal Fideua ($25), generous with green peas, mussels, and aioli, was outstanding.

Ditto for the Josper Charcoal Seafood Paella ($36 for small), umami with the essence of the sea, was beautifully charred at the bottom.

 

I would have preferred the Churros (usual price $12) coated with sugar and cinnamon, but Pura Brasa's rendition with dipping chocolate was decent as well.

Our pick of the desserts was the Tartaleta de Crema Catalana (usual price $13), the Spanish interpretation of Italian creme brulee but in tart form. It was a mess cutting into the shortcrust pastry but it was absolutely yummy.

The Swiss roll-esque Bra de Gitano ($12) was redeemed served with a rum & raisin ice-cream.

Pura Brasa

5 Wallich Street

#01-16 Guoco Tower 

Tel: 6386 9678

Open daily from 12noon to 11pm