The Standard Hotel is the sort of pub that white people like. It’s hidden down a residential Fitzroy street, it has a huge beer garden, it has live music, and it is so chock full of hipsters that I’m pretty sure they won’t let you in if you don’t have either (a) an iPhone, or (b) Ray-Ban Wayfarers.
J and his mate Ben often have beers at the Standard after playing squash, and on this occasion I decided to crash their boys’-night. We weren’t planning to eat there, but the beer session went on and on (as they do), and I got hungry.
So we ordered the sausage rolls ($8.50):
which appeared to be skinless sausages wrapped in some puff pastry. Props for not using frozen ones, and nice presentation, but the sausage part tasted just like supermarket sausages.
Still hungry after sharing a plate of these, we ordered main courses. I should add at this point that ordering meals at the Standard involves approaching the bar, copping a withering stare from the surly barperson (I say “barperson” because both the male and female staff are equally surly), and apologetically whispering your order… then scuttling away before their gaze can turn you to stone.
I ordered the chicken parma ($19):
It usually does come with chips, but given that we’d already had the sausage rolls, I ordered it without. Which is the sort of stupid-yet-valiant attempt at calorific virtue that I often make, amidst drinking four beers and eating pub food. Let’s face it, I may as well have just had the bloody chips.
Aaaaanyway, the parma… well, it was OK. They do use proper chicken breast (HATE it when you get one of those frozen pieces of manufactured crap), and the herb crumb was good. But they had this prosciutto on the top that tasted a bit funky, and big chunks of feta, which in my opinion do not belong on a parma.
J had the vegetarian enchiladas, which you can sort of see in the pic behind my parma. I had a bite and they were not bad. Although probably you could get something similar up at Vege Bar for less money and less attitude.
The Standard is a good place to go if you want to sit outside and drink Coopers; good, for example, if you smoke or have friends who do. Or if you have a particular fetish for really grouchy bartenders. But I don’t think I would go there to eat again.
KATE