In the bustling culinary landscape of Bilbao, a renowned establishment that has gained notoriety for its meat offerings left me questioning the very foundations of its acclaim. As I embarked on this gastronomic adventure, the initial course presented itself in the form of cold scallops, an unexpected duo with pico de gallo. The contrasting temperatures were perhaps the least perplexing element of this dish, as the divergent flavors failed to harmonize in any discernible manner.

The spectacle of the evening unfolded with the arrival of the burger, accompanied by a waiter brandishing a torch. A theatrical touch, no doubt, but the sizzling bacon failed to mask the ultimate disappointment that awaited. The burger, cooked to an unacceptable rawness, lacked the anticipated charcoal infusion and instead bore an uncanny resemblance to a poorly executed steak tartare. The culinary experience took a nosedive as the chef, afflicted with a persistent cough blatantly noticeable when we passed the kitchen AND when he walked past the dining area, seemed to have inadvertently expelled all seasoning from the dish with every huff and puff.

An automated cheese grater made a dubious entrance, attempting to salvage the situation with a cheese dip that would have sent Gordon Ramsay sprinting for the door to find the flavor that escaped. However, amidst this culinary chaos, a redeeming feature emerged—the potatoes, surprisingly delightful and perhaps the sole saving grace in an otherwise lackluster parade of flavors: 9 euros but worth it.

The dessert selection, promising from afar, unraveled into a tragic comedy on the palate. The French toast, presented with an unfortunate burnt quality, only worsened with a top-layer fire treatment, presumably aiming to rectify the misuse of an overpriced whiskey. The cheesecake was a sorry excuse for anything resembling cake or cheese, compounded the regrettable culmination of the meal. WHO serves hot cheese cake? WHO?!?!

As I reflect on this dining escapade, I can't help but ponder how such a seemingly perplexing amalgamation of flavors has garnered popularity. The waitstaff, in stark contrast to the culinary debacle, displayed an admirable level of courtesy and kindness. Alas, the suspicious inability of not being able to tip them through the credit card reader adds another layer of suspicion to this culinary misadventure—a final perplexity in a night full of culinary curiosities. Today's journey served not as an exploration of exquisite tastes but as a stark reminder of where, unequivocally, one should never venture again.

PS: WHY DOES THE BILL COME IN A COFFIN??