The Collaroy — Restaurant in Sydney

I've been holding off writing this for a while now in the hope that they fix their early teething problems, but the time has come to expose them instead.

Being closed for refurbishment for 6+ months you'd expect some big improvements inside. Instead you get a canteen-like feel: noisy because of all the hard flat surfaces. Also notable is the attempt at the industrial look, which just looks unfinished. I reckon it just IS unfinished given how long refurbishment overran. So basically expect a kind of beach canteen, building-site chic.

Now then...the food. I'm confused. Some food is excellent, some food is poor. The prices are as if it were all excellent. I was researching the menu before this place opened, that's how keen I was given the usual Merivale food standard. One thing that caught my eye was the mortadella melt - mortadella and cheese on a roll, melted...nom nom. So I got that for brekkie on my first visit as take away. All is as expected apart from the melted part. There was no attempt at melting. There was something similar on the menu that was not a melt so I presumed confusion and accepted I must have the wrong thing. A few weeks later I tried again and again it wasn't melted. A "melt" that isn't melted...what is this madness?!? That item is no longer on the menu - obviously too confusing for anyone.

Some other notables:

The burger tastes very nice, but is small and uninspiring (think Donald Trump's hands).

The cuttlefish is delicious! .......but it comes with a slice of toast. Yup, you heard me...a slice of toast. No, I don't know why. The only thing I can think is there is so little cuttlefish that they bulk it out with more toast than cuttlefish. It is a share plate after all, and there ain't enough cuttlefish to share on that plate, so here - have some bleeding toast!

The pizzas are fairly terrible. There's $50k worth of pizza oven there and most of them come out soggy in the middle...not just "not crispy", but kind of wet in the middle. The Italian sausage and truffle pizza is a perfect example, made worse by the fact the truffle is in ricotta in a stuffed crust which becomes gloopy and dry after a few mouthfuls. The prawn pizza stays dry, but it comes in two ways, either "fairly tasteless", or "inedibly spicy". Oh, and if you order pizza it "may not come at the same time as everything else". I'm not quite sure how they can't co-ordinate that. The mozerella sticks are very good, but the price makes them somewhat more chewy.

I do think their food has great potential and a lot of people will really like it, but if you're anything of a foodie, you will see the cracks and they seriously need fixing. I still dream of cuttlefish without toast.

The staff are very friendly, however I do think Merivale need to change their training manual and come up with a list of conversation starters rather than just "how's your day been?". Every time I go in, I get asked that specific wording many many times...my plan is to start asking it of them before they get a chance...see how...

Shock and horror. A father's day reservation for 2.30 would see us depart the primordial glass doors of The Collaroy - its name aptly mistaken amongst my kin for the Cholera - at 4.20. As we were seated a cold chill swept across the dining floor, an emboldening stench of body odour accompanied this sordid atmosphere. Pleas would see us moved inches from this chilly gust. Drinks came fast. The trauma of this fateful meal would see my mother inebriated by the hands of the bartender; her poison a spicy margarita. I wish I could say the same for our food. Ten minutes became twenty. We watched as the patrons around us were served their full meals; meanwhile we had not even received our entrees. It was 3.15 when the lone calamari fritti descended upon the table. Like hyenas we ravaged the plate. Crumbs danced in the air. The small paper cup of chipotle lapped clean. It would be another twenty minutes before the second entree graced our unclothed table. For forty minutes the pizza stand had lay upon the table, an obelisk of our hunger; a reminder that we were unfed. Mother began to twitch; between her shaking fits she laughed uncontrollably, giddy with starvation. The garlic bread finally arrived. A 'pizzette' we described it. This minuscule vessel of garlic and oil - the latter almost absent entirely on the tiny wheel of bread and the former swathed upon the base like balm - might feed a small child or medium sized rodent. We were alone; our waitress had dispersed into thin air. To pass the time my kinship played some kind of sick game of 'Where's Wally?' (Where's Waiter?). We would never see her again. It was ten minutes to four when the mains finally descended upon the table: my mother ordered the hallowed barramundi which was surprisingly pleasant amongst a sea of misery, albeit scalding amongst the tepid vegetables; my father the spatchcock with a side of chips, the fowl drowned in butter like an unsupervised toddler in a kiddie pool, the chips hard and crisped; my sister a second round of calamari, the conclusion being that the crumbed squid was by far the most delicious meal that graced our table; for me, I ordered the roast. A generous double helping of beef slices were pleasant and juicy. The Yorkshire pudding was meagre, dry and thin. The gravy dispensed frugally. The minted peas, sans-mint. Though our clan had first entertained the notions of a Nutella pizza, none such dessert could any bear to order. Our bodies ached in our chairs; our elbows winced on the table. Near-silently we paid the bill, sans-tip, the car ride home punctuated by aching stomachs. All in all, it was a lovely and memorable afternoon and we...

I’m a local to Collaroy and was well acquainted with The Collaroy in its previous incarnation. After being closed so long over and especially over summer we had really missed the place. At a glance the new interior looks trendy but after sitting for a while and looking in more detail the feeling is just that it was rushed and that it’s unfinished. All of the soft furnishings are gone which makes the upstairs especially, incredibly loud. We hadn’t booked a table but when we arrived we were told one would be available in around 45 minutes. We found a window seat and happily sat and had a beer while we waited. When our table in the dining area was ready it turned out to actually be a small shelf with some stools. It wasn’t ideal for 3 people especially when you’re thinking of eating things like pizza which take up a lot of space. We’d also lost our previous spot by the window as soon as we stood up so we couldn’t get that back either.

We squashed around the shelf and ordered a starter of buratta crostini, 2 pizzas and a beer burger. The starter didn’t show up until we’d finished the mains. We got it on the house because of the mistake. To their credit - I do think Merivale are on the whole excellent at customer service. The prawn/chilli pizza was overly hot even for me and I’m not usually faint hearted about chilli. The truffle pizza was soggy and really disappointing. The burger I thought was perfect and the best I’ve had in a some time but definitely on the small side particularly considering the price. It’s a real pity too that when ordering pizza and something else from the menu like a burger you are told they come from different kitchens so will arrive at different times. I know it’s intended to be a casual dining experience but really don’t like that approach.

The overall atmosphere and experience was really underwhelming and had me really missing the old characterful collaroy with its fish taco and chicken wing bar snacks. We won’t be...