Brunch at Club Trikini

Flip Flop Tables

Pay
€
Per Person Brunch incl juice & coffee.  €10.50

Basics
Location
Trikini is Now Closed




In short

Hopes? Ten euro of brunch to keep us going to dinner.
First Impressions? A bit clinical. Yellow paint, white plastic and an echoey space.
A USP? Ummm…floppy tables.
The food in three words? Ample. Confused. Refrigerated.
Can they get the staff? Almost, but not quite. Customers who came in after we sat down got served before anyone asked what we wanted. Everything came in good time though.
Service with a smile? Service with a SHOUT. A very loud voice in an empty, high-ceilinged echo chamber does not do the ambience any favours.
Change one thing? Baby, it was cold inside. Turning the heating up would make the decor feel a bit warmer.
Would you take your friends? If we’re comparing brunches in Malasaña, yes.
Rating for dating? Only if food for two in a dentist’s waiting room is your thing.
Tip? NOT AT THAT VOLUME, NO!
Going back? Second visit. A fair chance of a third.

The Whole story
We’re not normally a brunch household. But Trikini proved themselves good value in the summer, so to today’s tale.

We took a window seat down the far end, with a hingey table top that effectively traps one or more of you in the window once you flip it over. Pro; You’re not near the doors on wintry days. Con; The window benchseat is designed for basketball players. Anyone less than about 2.5 metres tall – ie humanity - has to leave their legs dangling off the floor without a footrest. It’s bloody uncomfortable. And you can’t get out without taking everything off the table. Quirky, but not fun.
So, Drink?

Well, coffee is con leche. No Ethiopian mountain blend tonka lattes here, which will disappoint some. Now, I like CcL, but at Trikini I have to be in the minority. You don’t need a degree in coffee to know who’ll like places where it looks like reading the menu should require one.

When it comes to juice you’re confronted with a glowing concoction only a hipster’s mother could love. It’s, and, yes here we go, a detox drink. Gawd. Actually, it’s just orange, carrot and ginger zhzuzhed up. Now, there’s an old saying. If it don’t hurting, it don’t working. Well I don’t thinking drinks should be grainy. Detox shouldn’t tax like this does. Just offer us a choice, please.

Yoghurt and granola was huge. Ginormous. About 300 ml of it. Half the size, some red fruit or dried banana added and it’d be ideal. Must admit though, I’m rubbish as I didn’t think of adding a splodgette of jam, which would have worked a treat.

Hummus was fine. That said, it is *hummus*. What can go wrong? You need to be me-useless to turn it into chickpea-based grouting. Decent toasted granary type bread came with it, but not quite enough to match the quantity of gunge. Perhaps an offer of a second round of toast might be good?

Quesadilla. This is the big one. Well, there was one. And it was big. 20 cm across. There was a pot of something that tasted pretty much like guaco, too. But things got choppy. The menu, worryingly, having neglected to mention ham amid the cheese, was therefore in no position to point out that said ham was cured. So, let’s recap. Dried out meat, dried out more. Salty slivers made saltier still amid the melted cheese slices. With guacamole. Not a success, this one.

Can we, at least, toast the toast? Well, a generously thick slice of seeded bread was welcome although some had already been rededicated to hummus spreadage duties. Sweet version? Nice raspberry jam passed today’s acidity test. And points are awarded for softened up butter. Savoury option? Ice-cold watery tomato was a real wash out. And was there flaky salt and poshish oil to match that jam?
Nope. Missing in action. We shouldn’t need to send out a search parties.

So do this brunch bunch make a reasonable lunch munch?

It’s attention to detail that’s the thing. A bit more thought at every step would do it - 10.50 would then be good value for a lot of good food, not just reasonable value for a lot of food.