Dad's birthday lunch at Dempsey Brasserie

Dad recently proclaimed he didn’t see the need to leave behind the comforts of home and the company of his two sons puppies to travel. Naturally, I don’t think any of us took him very seriously. It’s kinda like Warren Buffet telling you that money isn't important or Miranda Kerr proclaiming that a hot bod is overrated. But Dad did surprise all of us by saying he would like to visit New York again. Well Dad, I can't afford to take you there now so we will have to bring New York to you.

You can see for yourself that Dempsey Brassiere is blessed with space and a tall ceiling that can accommodate a healthy bustle. During lunchtime on Sunday, it is lively enough to provide you with some privacy in your conversation but not loud enough, so much so that you have to shout through the noise.

I guess on hindsight, the first paragraph of their introduction states “with a strong emphasis on drinks,” so they might have gone with a ‘second fiddle’ approach, and not ‘second helpings’ approach to food.



Was the food bad? No. Inedible? Of course not! But like what my primary school form teachers liked to write in my report card, “… capable of doing better.”

Take their rocket salad for instance. A throw together of rocket leaves, baby spinach, tomatoes and parmesan cheese shavings, served with generic-tasting house vinaigrette. It was something that I, Miss Swear-by-the-microwave could throw together – with even better store-bought vinaigrette.



Luckily, the meal recovered quickly with a respectable Caesar salad. Creamy, decadent with a perfectly poached egg that went no-holds-barred on us when poked. If the rocket salad was what you on a diet should eat, the Caeser salad was what your frenemy on a diet should be eating.

In the name of variety, we ordered a bunch of mains to share.



Mussels (vin blanc) and truffle fries. Likeable, especially when the sauce eventually became a dipping ground for fries.



Truffle fries, a $5 top-up.



I liked the very artistically-stacked fish and chips. With a thumb-sized portion I tried, I couldn’t instinctively tell it was “Stella Artois battered” but it was better than most fish and chips I have had. I like my fried food, this would have been a good portion for one but among six, let’s just say, luckily we ordered more stuff.



The roast chicken was tender enough to warrant second and third pickings. However, I had to smear it with cranberry sauce as it was underseasoned.



I had smokin’ hopes for their namesake TDB Cheese Burger. Sadly and sacrilegiously so, the “200gm prime Angus beef patty” was overdone.



A clean-tasting pappardelle pasta with tiger prawns, garlic, spring onions. Likeable but again, needs more salt.



My favourite main was perhaps the dish that we considered last - steak sandwich. After the burger, Yang reminded them to prepare it “medium-rare”. This time round, the kitchen was spot on with the beef; served with caramelised onions (love) and soft Turkish bread (even bigger love).



The apple tarte tatin was kind of underwhelming, especially when accompanied by a scoop of icicle-riddled vanilla bean ice cream. Dad liked it; he is a guy who normally doesn’t take desserts so you can look at this two ways: either it is good for people who don’t like sickeningly sweet things or this dessert has not lived up to its purpose.



The sticky toffee pudding was pretty good and this pud was soft and squishy with toffee sauce. But we are in the last quarter of 2011 and this town is fraught with delectable puds, so as a new entrant into the restaurant scene, I can’t help but wonder if it is time to up the game.



Service was earnest though inexperienced; our sharing plates for the mains were smaller than those of dessert and the food took a while to arrive. But I had fun during lunch. I like the vibe of Dempsey Brassiere enough to give it a second chance. And you know what, if I’m not second-time lucky, I guess we will always have New York in October to fall back on.