Slick as a Parrot

Many years ago there was scrumptious schnitzel in Wellington, served up at the California Steak House on Willis Street. It was crunchy and cheap, and came with coleslaw & bread on an oval plate. I fell for it right there, and embarked on a schnitzel mission that would see me dining on some of the world’s best – in medieval Bavarian villages, at Una’s in Sydney, and Café Munich in Lower Hutt. I knew the Green Parrot served schnitzel, and I knew I should go. But I was worried I’d bump into Winston Peters. With him safely out of the picture (perchance?) it was time to revisit The Legend after a gap of ten years.

Established in 1926, the Green Parrot is by far the longest trading restaurant in town and remains true to its origins as a workingman’s grill. Its history is celebrated in collections of mementos and photographic displays, but it’s the mural that’s most memorable. Mind-boggling, even. Yes, you can leave your sudoku and cryptic crossword at home… picking out the faces in this hall of fame will keep your brain busy all evening. (That’s got to be Paul Holmes & Sir Peter Blake, Rob Muldoon maybe? But who the heck’s the guy with the hand coming out of his head?)

I share with these past patrons a penchant for comfort food, which the Parrot delivers in spades. Their no-frills fare includes fish of the day, steak, schnitzel and omelettes, with sundae & apple pie for pudding ($6, a gift). There’s also free bread, a stack of white sandwich-sliced, accompanied by butter cubes.

Lee attempted the mixed grill ($28): steak, sausage, meat pattie, lambs’ fry, kidneys, two chops (both lamb and pork) and a rasher of bacon. He sized it up and looked scared. Exploratory probing revealed an uneven quality to the elements – the steak was a highlight, the sausage the nadir, but I suppose you’ve got to expect that. Lee’s enthusiasm quickly waned, and more than half was left on his plate. This he tried to hide under the bacon.

My eagerly anticipated wiener schnitzel ($27) looked like a Shar-Pei puppy squashed flat in a bout of oil wrestling. The ‘veal’ was chewy, its crumb sodden. ‘You wouldn’t want to throw that overboard near the Great Barrier Reef,’ quipped the husband, relishing a little schadenfreude. Like most of the meals it came with chips (okay), potato salad (floury, under-ripe tomatoes) and coleslaw that contributed a much-needed tang and injection of vitamin C.

We were disappointed, but I can still see why the Green Parrot elicits such a loyal following. The most expensive bottle of wine is $37 and there’s beer for six bucks a pop. And it’s still BYO in a town full of Licensed. It’s also welcoming and honest, a predictable option for hungry people with big appetites who appreciate an old-fashioned meat-fest. It also has history. But so has Lower Hutt, and that has Café Munich. I’m off.