The Prince of Merewether — Restaurant in Newcastle-Maitland

"So, you see, Your Highness," I declared, swirling the ruby depths of the pinot in my glass, "the future of the widget industry hinges on this next potato chip flavor."

Across the gingham tablecloth, Prince Charles chuckled, a surprisingly infectious gurgle that danced with the clinking of cutlery. "I see," he said, spearing a rogue olive with the practiced elegance of a man born with silver cutlery nestled in his mouth. "Fascinating. And what, might I ask, is this 'widget' of which you speak?"

The question, bless his heart, was just the comedic opening I needed. I launched into a spirited soliloquy about the existential crisis gripping the snack aisle, the cutthroat rivalry between barbecue and sour cream, the thrilling ascent of the sriracha sensation, all punctuated by Prince Charles's enthusiastic hums and the occasional, "Splendid!"

The truth, of course, was that I wasn't a widget tycoon, nor was this His Royal Nibs dining with a commoner. This was our annual charity fundraising auction, a delightfully chaotic gala where, as a "gold donor," I'd won the dubious privilege of a royal repast.

The meal itself was a delightfully disastrous affair. Flatbreads arrived on wobbly legs, draped in garlic-cheese tapestries that clung stubbornly to our fingers. Olives staged a daring escape under the watchful eye of an exasperated footman, and the potatoes accompanying our steaks, bless their soggy souls, looked as if they'd spent the afternoon weeping in a lukewarm bath.

Yet, amid the culinary carnage, the Prince and I forged a delightful camaraderie. He regaled me with tales of his organic farm, lamenting the stubbornness of his prize-winning parsnips. I confided my secret ambition to open a hedgehog sanctuary (His Highness, a keen conservationist, was surprisingly enthusiastic).

The digital ordering system, a supposed innovation, only added to the merriment. Our table number, 13, seemed cursed, orders perpetually lost in the ether. Servers flitted around like flustered pigeons, bearing dishes to nonexistent diners. One particularly apologetic gentleman presented us with a plate of cold chips, intended for "Table 8, the Viscount and Viscountess, with extra gravy."

"Just add our royal decree for 'soggy potatoes for all,'" I quipped, and the Prince, eyes twinkling, declared it an official edict.

Then came the moment of truth. Bidding for the grand prize, a weekend at Balmoral Castle, had reached a fever pitch. I, fueled by pinot and parsnips, had thrown caution to the wind and emptied my bank account. The auctioneer's hammer fell, and amidst stunned silence, he declared the winner.

"Table 13, with the winning bid of…" He paused, dramatic, then bellowed, "A hedgehog sanctuary and a lifetime supply of organic parsnips!"

My jaw dropped. The Prince, a mischievous glint in his eye, raised his glass. "To widgets, parsnips, and the occasional soggy potato," he toasted. "May they reign supreme!"

That's when I noticed the number scrawled on the back of the bill, tucked discreetly under the salt shaker. Table 13. But it wasn't our table. It was theirs. The Viscount and Viscountess, owners of a chain of widget factories and, as it turned out, the real winners of the Balmoral weekend.

I looked at the Prince, his grin widening. He'd played me like a Stradivarius, orchestrated the entire charade. I'd been had, royally, gloriously.

And you know what? I wouldn't have had it any other way. For that evening, under the flickering chandeliers and the watchful gaze of a dozen soggy potatoes, I'd dined with a Prince, shared a laugh, and learned the most valuable lesson of all: never underestimate the power of a...

The pub owners feel 140pp for a pub lunch is reasonable

ADDIT: The restaurant manager Liz rang me afterward and was clearly disinterested in what I had to say and focused on the 'miscommunication' that the restaurant is not open from 2pm contrary to the website saying 12-8pm. I feel that a family owned pub would have more pride and interest than asking a 'horrified', disinterested 20 something manager to handle such cases.

Would I come back here? No the service and value for food is atrocious. This is a pub trying to serve high end food charging its customers an arm and a leg to do so.

You would think $70 for one is enough to cover a hungry lady's lunch... Not so my friend, I spent a total of $140 ($35 of it was sake) to be kicked out of the restaurant into the bar after having reserved a table upstairs where it was packed for the NRL and decided to come downstairs where there were rows of empty tables but 2 groups having lunch. I spent a good portion of that waiting for the waitress to tend to me in between serving food (aren't new patrons a priority over food that will continue to come out?) to be told I had to go to the bar without a proper explanation why. The sashimi was not fresh, it was clearly the cheapest offcuts sliced with a blunt knife and a pot of cheap soy sauce that exceeded why anyone would need that amount for 9 pieces of fish. The pot was half full/ empty! I had to use a whole heap of their 'wasabi' to vaguely resemble how much I would use at a Japanese restaurant. I find it ironic the owners trying to correct a Japanese omakase specialty reviewer (which you can see on my profile). The buffalo wings were very vinegary to the point you cannot continue without a bite of chips to break it up. The steak was an ant piece compared to half a lettuce drowned in heavy sauce - I felt sick halfway from the volume of sauce. The steak was the only thing...

DOES NOT WELCOME KIDS

Travelling down from Brisbane to Sydney and read amazing reviews about this place. My husband and I are travelling with 3 young children who were STARRRVING. We entered at 11am not knowing the kitchen did not open till 12pm. As we really wanted to dine here we walked the kids up the road for a snack till it was 12pm. As we came back my husband took 5 minutes to get a water bottle from the car while my youngest two were happily playing by the entrance of the bar. While playing and giggling, I heard a comment from a man who looked like he worked there saying quote THIS IS A BAR NOT A DAYCARE CENTRE.!!! Right at that moment I did not feel comfortable at all to dine here with my kids. What comments or looks would we get if the kids continued to be happy and make noise. I walked back in and asked to speak to a manager and low and behold the manager WAS the man who made that rude and uncalled for comment. Keep in mind the bar was empty so the kids were not disturbing anybody. I explained to the manager that we have been waiting 1 hour to dine here however after the comment he made we are going else where. We are now at MARY ELLEN HOTEL down the road which has much better welcoming service. I suggest changing management!!!!! It was not a nice...