WHEN the kitchen goes wrong it allows people to catch up.
Another small plate, the pork belly skewers, at £4.95, was dismal. I wanted the crackling crunch on top but I didn't want a dry crackling crunch all the way, nor did I want grease to run through my fingers as I tried to get at the skewered pig.
So in Revolucion de Cuba on Peter Street during the Great Blackened Salmon Emergency of November 2012 my friend and I went round the houses with our conversation.
We covered politics, work, sport and culture. The food, as I say, took a long time to arrive.
It was taking so long we eventually formed a book club and read the whole of the 1,450 page War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy in the Oxford World Classics edition. We made notes and discussed the novel chapter by chapter.
We arrived on the Wednesday and left on the Monday.
The water comes in a tin teapot which is the cutest thing about the whole dining experience
At some point as the skies darkened and night fell on that first day, the truth behind the multiple evasive answers we'd been receiving was revealed.
The waiter, in a rising voice of panic, said: “The chef spoilt the first salmon and had to re-cook it and that went wrong and had to be thrown away and now he’s doing it again, and I’m so very dreadfully sorry. Really, really sorry. I’m so very dreadfully sorry. I am indeed. That I am. I am sorry."
I liked the waiter because he was genuinely upset for us.
I liked the manager less who thought he could make up for the delay by sending over the stricken waiter and getting him to ask if we wanted a two for one deal on mojitos.
Given we didn't want to pay for something we wouldn't have ordered if the food hadn't been late we said no. This was cowardice on behalf of the person in charge on the day. He/She should have talked to us directly rather than have the waiter do the dirty work.
Back to the salmon.
The puzzling thing about the long wait is that this delicate water-botherer only takes minutes to cook, so maybe Revolucion de Cuba had run out of salmon on that second spoiling. Maybe they'd then had to call up a kilted Scot in his peat shack on the banks of the River Tay to woo a salmon into his net and then Fed Ex it in a bubble-wrapped goldfish bowl back to the restaurant.
I reckon that's almost certainly what happened. It explains the hour delay.
In the end though MacTavish needn't have bothered getting his knees wet. The dish was on the small side if reasonably priced at £7.95 - top picture on this page. The bean collation with the rice was fine but the flesh of the fish with its seared surface and glaze was tough as old boots. So after all that time the fish was still overcooked. Not surprising I suppose.
A paella meanwhile was decent, with good prawns, chicken, chorizo and excellent rice. It looked a picture too and came in at £9.95. Nice filler that one and not too expensive.
The add-ons and desserts made the meal.
The corn lollipops (£1.95) were dripping with buttery chilli goo and cooked a treat but the best thing was the dessert of churros. These are deep fried pastry dough strips that are saturated in sugar and superb when dipped in chocolate.
I don't know the price of the churros because they came as a gift along with complimentary nachos and a complimentary glass of wine. The wine came in the singular rather than the plural because my friend had had to leave by the time it arrived.
A second visit when the kitchen was only a bit slow rather than ridiculously slow, featured more small dishes such as sweet potato and chorizo croquettes at £4.45, and cajun cream mushrooms for £4.25.
The rich cream sauce and the lovely mushrooms made for earthy magic but the croquettes were too loose in the middle.
Another small plate, the pork belly skewers, at £4.95, was dismal. I wanted the crackling crunch on top but I didn't want a dry crackling crunch all the way through, nor did I want grease to run through my fingers as I tried to get at the skewered pig. Pork belly should be soft and moist under that upper crust not canine wrenchingly tough. Had the skewers been deep fried?
If the wine had been decent on that first occasion it might have mellowed the mood. But the Errazuriz Chardonnay was vinegary and paper thin in flavour: a classic paint stripper. We should have stuck with the famously broad range of rums on offer.
Along with the churros and one or two small plates, the interior is the best thing about Revolucion de Cuba. A lot of money has been thrown into the former Squares bar. The scale of the place puts the diner at ease although the individual seats and smallish tables can make comfortable dining difficult.
Not that Revolucion de Cuba is all about the food.
The scale and choice of cocktails and rums is making this a popular mainstream place to drink on weekends. Queues have returned to Peter Street. The difference is that Revolucion de Cuba is a far more attractive place than the old knee-trembler barns such as Brannigans.
Shame the food doesn't match up then, shame that the kitchen seems unfamiliar with how to cook it. And shame there's nothing specifically Cuban about the menu which is simply generic Hispanic with steaks thrown in for good measure. But compliments to the waiting staff who on all the visits have tried their very best to lift an average chain dining experience.
Revolucion de Cuba is perhaps best left for the out of towners wanting a bit of city centre scale. But remember to take along a copy of War and Peace.
You can follow Jonathan Schofield on Twitter here @JonathSchofield
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Revolucion de Cuba, South Central, 11 Peter Street, M2 5QR. 0161 826 8266
Rating: 12/20
Food: 5.5/10
Service: 4/5
Ambience: 2.5/5