M is for Mongolian

Mongolian Khan’t remember a worse meal

Mongolian, Malaysian, Mauritian – these were some of our choices for M.  I’m not sure why we went with The Khan Mongolian BBQ in the end; maybe it was the alluring mystery of what (the eff) was really up those stairs, maybe it was the rumour of all you can eat, maybe it was the fact that their phone number still hadn’t up been updated from the  7 digit-days and we thought perhaps our business could buy them a measly 9 in front.

Whatever it was, I hope for your sake, the same reason doesn’t get you there.

Upon entering The Khan, each diner’s presence was announced with a loud “bing bong” from the automatic sensor, the kind you’d hear in a cheap retail shop, only more annoying.  The worst and perhaps most hilarious part being, the sensor was located in between the dining room and the toilets, meaning not only was the whole restaurant aware of your presence, but also the frequency of your bowel movements.

Shortly after being handed the menu, we settled on the $26.95 all you can eat option (yes it’s true), cracked open our BYO bottle of red and made our way over to the entree table.

Prawn crackers, fried rice and noodles, chicken drumsticks and various other dishes were available to load up into your bowl.  However, our appetite for entree quickly came to a halt when one chicken drumstick was red inside.  Perhaps this is how all you can eat businesses make money…

Main course epitomised the many quotes which tell you to enjoy the journey, not the destination.

The process of constructing your own main meal was novel and somewhat enjoyable.  However, I would probably suggest that it would have been in their  best interests (and perhaps ours) to hide the fact that the meat was completely frozen.  Nevertheless, into our bowls we piled in our various frozen meats, variety of vegetables and the the sauces.

Oh the sauces.


There are 11 different sauces available for you to choose from.  Or so we thought the choice was ours.  After loading up her chosen sauces, the first of our brave diners proceeded to the “in” window, behind which stood the chef and a hotplate the size of the roof on a mini cooper.  The chef took one look at the contents of the bowl and, as if with an innate sauce radar, sent her back to the sauces station, she had not got all 11.

When your sauce combo is acceptable, the chef accepts your bowl from the “in” window and throws it on to the mini cooper roof.  A couple of magical minutes pass and, literally with a puff of smoke, there at the “out” window, appears your bowl of cooked stir fry.  You then have the choice of adding 3 or 4 more sauces and finally it is time to eat.

Now without ruining the end of the story or your enjoyment of food altogether, I will say that Mongolian had it’s repercussions.  Maybe it was the shot of vodka from the Hawaiian style bar (unsurprisingly they did not offer a local liqueur)  or maybe it was the fact that I went back for a second bowl (why?).

The only redeeming feature of our night at The Khan was that the whole thing was hilarious.  Hilarious like a hilarious joke, or farting, or falling over…not the way you might describe a restaurant.

So if you’re wondering what is up those stairs, wonder no more.  The answer is: some frozen meat, a sizzling mini cooper, 11 different sauces and a high chance of a stomach upset.


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