Les Miserable... or at least he will be if he visits here.
It was a rainy day and I found myself stumbling around the Welsh valleys. I was on the hunt for the dreaded Butterman. A strange monster claimed to lick the melted butter from freshly made toast. The swine! The fiend! The dry bread monster of Aberdare!
After a camel back treck across the savannahs of the Brecon beacons and a short Canal journey down the new heads of the valley road I found myself taking a dump (the first one in three days) in Aberdare public toilets.
Relieved, I found myself starving hungry and a short jaunt down the road from Les' Golden Kitchen. I arrived at the front door, plumes of cigarette smoke poured from two people; neigh smoke machines, beside the main entrance. As I approached I convinced myself Darth Vader was about to emerge from the smokey doorway.
I battled through without my trusted penguin skin gas mask and sat at the table only to realise I'd fallen back in time to the 1980s. It was like stepping foot into an episode of 'Stranger Things'. The crumbling interior left alot to be desired.
The waitress was very helpful and friendly. Staff were on the whole, pleasant. That was except for a man looking for Jean Valjean who threatened to bring Russel Crowe out if I didn't enjoy the food. So politely I nodded and said "I can hear the people sing, and they shall hear the rant of this angry man!"
Food was nasty and frozen. I would say cheap as chips, but I feel you'll struggle to find cheaper nastier chips anywhere. Frozen piles of mush. Rancid instant gravy. All felt as if it was courtesy of Chef Mic... rowave.
I paid my tab, tipped the staff as they were the only redeeming quality, and boarded my flying canal boat home.
Les' Golden Kitchen 2/5 read more