On Targa, Middleton Street, Byron Bay

Oh my, why did I start sketching the back of the bar with all its fiddly bottles and glasses? Mostly I try for something hasty, there is only so much one's fellow dinners will put up with. Still, there are plenty of reasons for loitering in Targa's dark wood clubbiness - most of them on plates. Firstly, the roast peppers with white anchovies, one of which I purloined from Mr  S., rustic red and yellow draped around a tomatoey thing (the peppers not Mr S), with oodles of fresh flavour. For this I had to hand over a large grilled prawn and some sopresso, grilled with rosemary, that I would have preferred to keep to myself.

The salmon was excellent, just pinker in the middle with the crispy skin effect which confounds me. Why is this so good and why do I always leave the skin at home? As I still hadn't finished all those bottles, I had to order tiramisu for dessert. Despite my intention to leave some before I knew it, it was gone. If I lived in Byron Bay I might have to attempt to draw the '60's airport scene dot-matrixed on the ceiling.

Share this:

, ,