Pulse, Kingsland

Barbecued chicken coming up at the Pulse restaurant in Kingsland. Picture / Martin Sykes

Herald rating: * 1/2 

We like salt. We collect salt the way people collect stamps. But when the waitress at Pulse came over to ask us - for what felt like the tenth time - to see how our meals were, she also asked: "More salt?"

No, no, I shrieked, no more salt.

She obviously thought I was mad. And I was. We both were in a way. Is there a sort of madness brought on by salt poisoning?

At the end of our very peculiar meal at the three-week-old Pulse, I was asked, again, how our meals were. After some thought I managed: Extraordinary.

"Oh," said the excited lass, taking our miniscule sum of money, "that's a good word."

"Is it?" I muttered, and thought that it really was extraordinary that nobody had come out from the kitchen to ask why our plates went back with so much of what came out still on them.

I have failed to mention what was actually on those plates. This is because I would really rather not think about this food again.

On the way home, I said, trying to find something nice to say about Pulse, that I supposed they ought to be commended for attempting to provide affordable food - our bill for two glasses of wine, four things that I think were entrees (although I am still not sure), two mains and a shared pud was $67.

The Television Critic snorted at this and said that he'd far rather they had attempted to provide edible food.

This is a very odd menu. There are four things at $3 a pop that are the entree things. There is fried eggplant, a prawn toast, a spring roll and a skewer of salmon in tempura. These things were described in rather fancier terms than this, although I suppose we should have guessed that the correct description could well have been four things deep fried in more oil than the Exxon spill.

You could do somebody an injury with that, the TC said gazing in wonder at the size of the spring roll. The prawn toast was also an amazing specimen to behold - a great chunk of ancient-tasting french bread with a pale green topping.

It all tasted of nothing but salt.

There were a trio of sauces, none identifiable. One, a white one, was so horrible I couldn't believe it was intended to be edible. The waitress - who was very nice, good at topping up the water but who knew absolutely nothing about the menu - said she would go and ask. She returned, triumphant, to announce that it was garlic aioli. I suppose it might have been once - a long time ago.

There was also a gluggy brown sauce, of the hue and consistency of the gunk that collects in the corner of showers. I wasn't going to ask what that one was.

The TC remembered the Simpsons episode where Homer learns that if he gets really obese he'll be disabled and be able to work from home. The way to achieve this, Dr Nick tells him, is to eat food with so much oil in it that when you hold up the paper napkin said food has been sitting on, you can see right through it.

Homer would love the selection here.

I had, or rather didn't have, three pale green prawn fritters, which tasted of salt. These came with a blob of coconut rice, which tasted of what I imagine that baby rice pudding in cans tastes like.

The TC had some sticky pork ribs with cabbage cooked in masala with fried apple. The cabbage was a couple of strands, the pork was very nicely cooked. The whole thing was lost in a swamp of sauce so salted that you could taste nothing else.

We shared a lemon tart - the eggs benedict of pud, sighed the TC. It was edible and therefore the highlight of one of the weirder dining experiences we've had, well, ever.

463 New North Rd, Kingsland
Ph: 815 1535

Head chef: Landseer Tripp

Open: 7 days, 10am till late

From the menu: Linguini, yellowfin tuna, with a tomato sauce, $14 or $20 for "a big bowl for sharing"; whole baby snapper, $22; mascerated strawberries, fresh vanilla icecream and marscapone, $8.

Wine list: Short by both glass and bottle.

Bottom line: It's a bar, too. We suggest you have a drink or two before eating.