Kingsley’s Steak and Crabhouse
Many millenia ago, before the cities’ lights drowned out the stars, there was Man. And then one man – the single not the group, the lower-case not the capital – discovered that the flesh of mammals gave him speed and strength, and he became the Hunter and all worshipped him for the meat he brought them, and for a time it was good. And then another man – another lower-case soon to rise to capitalised fame – discovered that the flesh of fish gave him endurance and good health, and he became the Fisherman and all worshipped him for the piscine fare he brought them. And for a time, it was good. But soon the tribe of Man splintered, into those who supped on fish and those who preferred meat, and after many bitter disputes over the holistic benefits of Omega 3 compared to the effect of red-meat proteins on the development of higher cognitive functionality the Hunter sent a crack team of ninjas to club the Fisherman over the head with a snap-frozen mackerel. And then, for a time, our business was good.
The battle stretched on for many centuries. It is said that Alexander the Great built his empire in a quest to find the perfect steak-frites, and no-one disputes the fact that the Japanese sided with Hitler solely to take control of the world’s supply of bluefin tuna. But eventually after much strife, the rift between the Hunter tribe and Fisherman tribe healed over. And a new breed of restaurants began to rise out of the wastelands, restaurants like Kingsley’s Steak and Crabhouse which dreamt of a world in which the sons of the Hunter and the sons of the Fisherman would be able to sit down together at the table of deliciousness. They served dishes like Steak Tartare, harking back to their roots of raw meat while also creating phantasms of joy with such garnishes as piquant-smooth truffle aioli and sort-of-cute sourdough crostinis; yet they were also renowned for seafood beyond par, like highly-prized Alaskan King Crab plucked from the depths of the Atlantic over a mere three weeks, snap-frozen so that citizens of the world over might enjoy the icy-fresh succulence of their leg-meat.
It was a dangerous combination, a contrapuntal harmony which we ninjas knew might very well be a death-knell for our business. Yet in our weakness we let it happen, and in doing so sowed the seeds for greater misery. We knew that it was in the blood of the human race to evolve, just as we knew that such evolution would one day lead to the destruction of all life to sate that tribe’s vast appetite. Some of our kind even fell prey to the blandishments of engorged Beef Wellingtons by the waterside, of sumptuous cocktails and rarified delicacies like Burrata Mozzerella (not pictured) made by little Italian men in spacecraft orbiting Mars, and called themselves “food bloggers” in a bid to validate their treachery.
Those who do not believe in unity between the Hunters and Fishermen have made great sacrifices to ensure the survival of the human race. We have spread rumours of culinary contamination, created the false religions of the Diet and the Weight Loss Regime, even cut out our own tongues lest we too fall victim to temptation. If the tribe of Man does not stop eating, it will surely receive (in an ironic twist) its just desserts, sweeter than even a Chocolate Brownie and Banana Sundae for our profit lines and hopefully just as fattening.
And yes, this is a toaster-powered post because I am on foreign deployment, so please leave a comment and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.
The Ninja sold out his own tribe and dined at Kingsleys courtesy of PRG.
Kingsleys Steak and Crabhouse
Location: 10/6 Cowper Wharf Rd, Woolloomooloo NSW 2011
Taste-type: Steak/Crab
Price: Entrées $13-22; Steaks $20-60 (Beef Wellington $68.90 for 2pp); Alaskan King Crab $55.90 for 600gms
How to get there: By car or helicopter.
Contact: 1300546475
