The best restaurants serving Mediterranean food in Dorking South Mole Valley South East

It was my birthday, and I’d been here once before—the food was good, the vibes were right, and I thought, why not relive the magic? This time, however, we strolled in on a Sunday to find the place emptier than my gym membership in February. A couple of tables were occupied, the staff were polite, and hope was still alive. I ordered a rack of ribs (among other items for the family feast). The kids were buzzing, the wife was smiling, and then... my ribs arrived. A lonely rack of meat on a plate, completely naked. No veggies, no garnish—just ribs on porcelain, like some avant-garde food art exhibit. First impression? About as exciting as a soggy birthday balloon. But hold on, it gets worse. The BBQ sauce—homemade, the waitress proudly informed me—was a tangy apocalypse. Overly sharp, aggressively sour, and apparently, sugar had been barred entry at the sauce-making stage. Sweetness? Nowhere to be found. It tasted like someone had an argument with vinegar and poured their feelings onto my ribs. I considered saying something to the waitress but realized I’d already emotionally checked out. I stared at my ribs, the ribs stared back, and we both knew this wasn’t going to work. I left them half-eaten—which, for spare ribs, is basically a crime. Normally, ribs aren’t about the quantity of meat; they’re about the experience. This experience, though? A disappointing, saucy tragedy. Happy birthday to me, I guess.