Roseville Memorial Club

When:   27th July 2012
Where:  64 Pacific Highway, Roseville
Price:   $22.00

5 years ago I went to the Roseville Memorial Club with new workmates for a Friday evening drink. It was this night that I was introduced to a young lady that would become my wife. On the 5 year anniversary of our meeting, my wife suggested we head back to “The Memo” for old times sake.

We wandered in just after 5pm and the place was filling up with patrons. Most of them in their sixties, us under 30’s both stuck out like a sore thumb. The place had changed a fair bit in the last 5 years. Half of the dining room had been blocked off with partitions. The pool tables and juke box had been removed to fit in more pokies and a TAB. We ordered a couple of drinks and took them over to a couch by the window. A couch that wouldn’t look out of place in your Grandma’s lounge room. I sunk deep into the couch and took a sip of my drink. It had hardly passed my throat when I was told by a staff member that they were about to roll down a screen to project a rugby game on to it. I was allowed to stay, but I might find it a little off putting.

I did. It was a massive screen that was dangling around my ears. Not to mention that every patron in the place was now staring direct towards me. And I think my head was blocking the score.
We quickly moved out of the way and found a table to sit at and finish our drinks. We then went over to the bistro (it’s in the same room, but has some fake ferns blocking it from the rest of the pub) and placed an order. They have numbers for your table, but it was very quiet so we didn’t even need one.

Meals came out pretty quickly (although mine came out a good 5 minutes before my wife’s). When the plate was put down in front of me, I immediately noticed something was wrong.

This isn’t a schnitzel.

I checked the menu.

Baked with Napoli sauce, eggplant, basil, Parmesan and melted cheese. Served with chips and salad or mash and veg.

At no point did they say it would be a schnitzel. But they didn’t say it wouldn’t be a schnitzel either. I was confused. I was scared. I didn’t know how to react.

My wife calmed me down and I started to eat. Schnitzel or not, it was a nice piece of chicken. A thick breast that had been pan fried before topped with eggplant, parmesan cheese, melted cheese and Napoli. This was another “reverse parma” with the sauce going on last. I’m still yet to decide which i prefer more. They both up their pros and cons. The sauce on this parma was amazing though. It had large pieces of rough cut basil and packed plenty of flavour. The eggplant was also nice. I normally avoid it, but it had its place on this dish. The cheeses were tucked in underneath and added a nice creamy flavour to it all.

The chips were pretty boring. Standard pub chips with enough salt on them. A few of them were bordering on burnt. As dull as they were, I still wanted more though. The amount I was given would hardly even be called “a handful”.

The salad was made up of mixed leaves, chopped tomatoes, one olive, red onion and raw brown onion. Raw. Brown. Onion. Is this a thing? Do people eat this? It’s so strong! I couldn’t eat much of it at all. It was really leaving an impact on my breath. The salad was finished off by a drizzle of olive oil. It was also barely a handful.

$22 seems a bit steep for this one. I think they’ve put all their eggs in the parma basket and left nothing for chips and salad. If the sides can be improved, then it might be better value.

We left the club and the average age was soon restored back to normal. Driving home we reminisced about the last 5 years and contemplated the next five. Eventually I realised that I should stop breathing through my mouth. That damn raw onion.

5.4 out of 10