Accepting Compromise In The Clubhouse

Abuja is a city of many talents, by my considerable standards and that of many it remains the flagship city of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. No doubt as they read this, many of the Lagosians will bite on iron and swear that theirs is the best city on the living planet, bear in mind that many of the lads and friends that have visited me here in the capital from Lagos remark on how peaceful (before they who should not be mentioned became resident) and well-kept the city was, and in their moments of clarity many of them wished that their jobs or family would relocate them to the capital.


Of course they have since returned to Lagos and have inhaled the smog that is Lagos air, and naturally they have taken leave of their senses (I no yab una o!) and will now swear that Gidi is the best. This debate between Lagos and Abuja can rage forever, admittedly there are many fine things about Eko, dynamic leadership, a city that never sleeps, vibrant entrepreneurs and equally vibrant social life, the sea, and that Lagos mentality where everyone is wiser than his neighbour often leading to the general state where no one is wise at all.


But Abuja is for the cultured man, nothing is rushed or hastened, because we generally understand that quality and good decisions take time, the city works at everyone’s individual pace or pulse. If you want the city to go fast for you, it will and if you need it to crawl, it is just as likely to do that. If you live in Ibadan please remain silent, this debate is for town dwellers.


For all the sophistication of the capital, one thing that it has constantly failed to do, is  offer a decent serving of milkshake, make no mistake, it does try but somewhere between throwing peak powder milk in with ice cream, or in some cases with yoghourt it fails woefully. It has now become a pet project of mine to order it wherever I see it appear on the menu, holding out hope that, that one time, someone would hit the mark.


It was no different when I spotted the choice on the menu of The Clubhouse, my default setting is to order it and then select the meal later and this is exactly what I did. The Clubhouse is located in  Life Camp of Abuja City, and while technically no one location in the Capital is too far from the other, Life Camp automatically gives you the sense that is deliberately removed from everywhere else.
This might have to do with the fact that most of the senior management of construction giants like Julius Berger, Gilmor and their ilk reside in this part of town. Abuja is a manmade city, this is a noted fact, and is forever in a state of development, to live in this city is to be constantly aware that a new road might appear tomorrow, new headquarters for yet another government agency will spring forth, but Life Camp allows a sense of finish and calm, I have never heard any ruckus or disturbance anytime I have been there, and this might not be an accurate measure for it overall but Gwarimpa is easy. Like Sunday Morning. I paid Lionel Richie for that, I swear, he didn’t want money so I bought him Petals hair relaxer. True Story.

Coincidentally it was a Sunday morning, and the idyllic nature of  Life Camp is the perfect setting for The Clubhouse which is a little cut-out of paradise, it features a little botanical space complete with swings and jungle gym for the children, it also has a pool that is actually used by patrons, unlike some other establishments I have reviewed (sneezes: Blue Elephant). The pool also allows patrons to dine al fresco, and while it became clear upon arrival that regulars of the restaurant were disproportionately Lesbianese, there was also a fine cross-section of the indigenous.

One such family was sitting by the pool, four little ladies, their mother with the skin of a Greek cruise ship waitress and the father, who’s build would easily qualifying him for the protective services, but whose scowl assured you he had once made a living standing on street corners selling drugs; like Benylin, Strepsil, Flucodin, Tylenol and the rest.

The moment of truth eventually arrived and the milkshake was presented to me, it was chocolate flavoured and while the menu has promised me a mug, I was given a glass. I took the initial sip. It wasn’t a milkshake, I took another sip, and I was now certain what I was drinking was not a milkshake. I took yet another sip, at which point I was able to confidently ascertain that what I had just being served was indeed the famed milo ground with a lot of milk and ice.

What! The audacity! The sheer chutzpah of the waiter and the bar man! I summoned the waiter, and couldn’t wait to let him have a piece of my mind, and when he arrived…………..I simply ordered another glass.

The truth is I don’t care what he had put in that glass, and yes Abuja is still hopeless at serving milkshakes; whatever they concocted was simply delicious and I wanted in. The second class of their compromise arrived, just in time for the Entrée, which included shrimp salad, Baba Ghanoush, Grilled Cheese Sticks and Cream of Chicken soup. It was a full table of friends, all of whom have made at least one guest experience on the consummate experience.

Word to the wise, if you are preparing to have a full meal, do not get zealous with an energy food beverage beforehand. I clearly marked a corner of the table, where I landed the plate of chicken soup and went to work. And while it didn’t have the thickness I am usually accustomed to, it made for that in richness, and it was a very generous portion. I order this soup almost every other review, so at that point I was on autopilot and the engines had begun to fail. I had gorged myself on the compromise-shake and was beginning to suffer the effects.

As I deflected the chiding of my colleagues on the table I looked up to the heavens from whence cometh my help, and noticed that while the interior decorating for the clubhouse wasn’t elaborate, it was easy to miss the finer details; such as the roof being supported by massive tree trunks, or pillars encased in a tree trunk. I am not an architect so I cannot speak to how it was done, but added to the botanical space outside it was clear they were going for an organic feel.

By the time my mind and eyes wondered back to the table, my main dish had arrived Chicken Scallopini and the portion was generous. In retrospect, I suppose I could have just asked them to take-it-away for me, but I soldiered on even in the face of apparent discomfort, much like our First lady speaking English, a language she is not accustomed to……. Ok that was a cheap shot, I shouldn’t  malign the person of the First Lady like that…but I’d rather speak behind a person’s back than gossip about them………get it…….

Chicken Scallopini is a meal prepared from chicken breasts that is then drenched in lemon juice and sautéed with breadcrumbs. That is all I know of it, and I am sure it tasted great but I was already stuffed and was simply going through the motions. My meal was completed after a stretch, and after another stretch I pushed myself from the table and proceeded for the exit.

As we walked out, with me in discomfort, I wondered if this was how Atiku felt when he tried by force to win an election. Sometimes you have to know when to walk away……

The Clubhouse Resort is located the TAK Continental Estate in Gwarimpa, and can be reached on either of the following 0807-704-0404 or 0808-989-0700

Sidenote: Forgive the cheap swipes at notable figures, as we approach the 51^st year of our Independence as a country, there is precious little to do other than laugh. If you believe in God, take a moment to pray for our Country, Nigeria, we need it. On a lighter note, fine cuisine is nothing without fine wine, and I have been remiss in my duty in not including it in my reviews (no be my fault, wine cost for these places). Luckily a friend of the Consummate Experience has a fantastic place to get tips and recommendation on wine and can be accessed on http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002258693175

The Elephant in the Room

Consistency is key. When you find something that you enjoy and have decided to share; that thing is only enjoyable to the extent that it is consistent, and I realise readers that I have not been consistent, for this I apologise. For those of you, who just happened upon my page for the first time, forgive my delusions of grandeur. It has been a busy few months, and I seem to have only documented my consummate experiences in my head alone. But now we remedy that.


Home is where the heart is, this well-worn refrain is necessary, because this consummate experience takes place in the fine city of Port-Harcourt. My claim in my previous reviews to be a Port-Harcourt boy are now validated, I am well aware this review was established for Abuja, but I take Abuja wherever I go, so it still holds. 


The City of Port Harcourt is for all intents and purposes one of the four metro-cities in Nigeria, its oil wealth and its dynamic leadership have certainly put it on the map in recent times. The denizens of this fine state possess a certain way about them; and to the keen observer it is a curious mix. They are constantly reaching for the finer things in life, Moet & Chandon, Cristal Champagne, The Best in Swiss Watches, while only a moment removed from a good old-fashioned brawl. The average Port Harcourt man will go to great lengths to prove himself worthy of his great wealth and affluence, but will always remind you he came up; that he too is from the streets and cannot be taken advantage of. This is the spirit of the Niger Delta.


In this there is always a smile, there is always laughter. Port Harcourt understands the groove. As I no longer enjoy loud music, cramped spaces and ladies in various states of undress (Jesus Saves!), when I am in town I seek out what pacifies my soul. Food.


Good food can solve any problem is my sincere belief, it can stop wars and restore peace, toss the amnesty plan! Let’s rehabilitate with food! One place in the Port Harcourt metropolis that always meets my criteria for war-ending, peace-restoring, family-restoring, children-laughing, flowers-growing food is Blue Elephant.


Blue Elephant is a located in GRA Phase ll of Port Harcourt; it’s a non-distinct building save for the Blue Elephant head proudly mounted on the gate. Why it is called Blue Elephant, no one seems to know; was a blue elephant killed and buried in the foundation of the building? Did the Lesbianese Lebanese owner have a pet blue elephant when s/he was a child? Maybe it was a stuffed animal? Is there a song called blue elephant that it’s named after? These are all the questions you might wonder till the sheer genius of the food stuns your olfactory and gustatory senses. (Yes, I too dey form knowing English, go find dictionary).


The non-descript nature of the place adds to its allure; there is not much by way of interior decoration indoors, as though the owner feels certain that food is all that matters and everything else is a side distraction. There is a bar outside, at the back, with tables arranged around a pool that no one ever seems to use, this feeble attempt at ambience is what attracts most people, as most if not all the patron prefer to sit outside.


I have asked before whom the pool is meant to serve and have yet to receive a credible answer, personally I believe that the pool is meant for the Blue Elephant the owners and the staff pray to, to make their food so good. The pool is where the elephant comes to wash and drink water. Curiously the restaurant is never open on Monday, this must be when they bring the elephant out of its hiding place and pray to it; their prayers must work. Anonymous sources have confirmed to me that every Monday about 2-3 massive trucks can be seen parked outside, this must be how they transport the elephant. 


As you can tell by now, I am not a newbie to Blue Elephant, we are well acquainted. (But I do not worship it, Jesus Saves!). I have some pull in Port Harcourt, (I command you to be impressed!) so I was able to place my orders before getting to the restaurant by calling their direct line and making my order. Whatever!! I still have some pull.


A consummate experience is always better in the company of friends, and on this consummate experience I was joined by Onyinye and Donald, my colleagues and featured guest in my last consummate experience. We walked in and were ushered to our table, shortly after which, our food arrived.


The crowd was lively, livelier than I remember Blue Elephant being, but admittedly it was a weekend, and a cross section of the restaurant revealed the customary solitary babe waiting on her order, playing on her blackberry, removed from the environment with a look of cerebral detachment on her face, while at the same time parting her Brazilian hair every once and again to see how many guys had checked her out. There was the mandatory business group in another corner, thrashing out some high-profiled deal, just loud of enough to hear the financial details but too low to hear the specifics. In another corner was the obligatory Port Harcourt big boy and his date, who wore a look that expressed he would much rather be in Tima’s on stadium road eating afang soup, and his bleached and patched counterpart who wore a look that expressed she had a test first thing the next morning and hadn’t studied yet. The most interesting sight for me was an older white gentleman, weather-beaten with leathery features, who sat quietly in his corner drinking his Gulder from an Ice Bucket. Who does that!!!! I have seen him there everytime I have visited, I am quite sure he is the High Priest of the Blue Elephant. 

The first indication that this experience might not tally with my former experiences, was the orders came in wrong. I had ordered cream of mushroom soup, and Spaghetti Carbonara which already comes with bacon bits, the attending waiter on the phone heard cream of mushroom soup,Spaghetti Carbonara & Pork in pepper, because that’s what arrived. With my dish came an assortment of other dishes, Donald as usual ordered Hummus and King Prawns with Fries, Onyinye as usual fell into a predatory stance where she waited for her meal and ate off everyone else’s plate. Her meal eventually arrived and it was a grilled fish dish, but at this time I had tuned out to make sure I was paying rapt attention to the task ahead of me.

For frequent visitors to this page, you will realise that the meal that was ordered was very similar to the meal ordered in the first consummate experience, and blue elephant was the original inspiration of that selection. As usual the soup was thick and elastic, I could use it to hold up my trousers, it worked and I enjoyed it. My attention was somewhat distracted as the waiter had managed to crowd the table with food, with dishes that weren’t in the order, like the pork dish which I had to go through as I savoured the soup.

The pork lacked any lasting impression; the only thing that can be said about it was that it was so well done; if I had the time or inclination I would have argued with the waiter on whether we had been served swine or bovine. (See what I did there? A little rhyming, genius!). After devouring the soup and the pork, I moved onto my main course. The pork was eaten like a starter, and I must have been stuffed or overwhelmed, because the fireworks I was certain I would experience, didn’t come.


To make certain that I wasn’t going off on a tangent, I asked around the table and it seemed that I wasn’t the only one unimpressed with our dishing. I looked around to make sure we were still in Blue Elephant, the water in the pool was still full so the Elephant god wasn’t thirsty, the oyinbo high priest was still drinking his libations in the corner, so what was wrong? Did they not pray to the elephant last Monday? I continued with the meal, but it didn’t have the usual cream or texture that I am used to, while all the ingredients were there, they weren’t confusing my senses. 

I had to call the head waitress and ask if the chef had recently broken up with his girlfriend; she laughed and assured me that he was fine, but for all her good cheer, the food was not fine. It tasted like it was prepared by a broken hearted man; like someone who was hurting, who was going through the motions but didn’t put his soul in anything anymore. The food didn’t have its magic; it had lost its jazz. The Blue Elephant god was obviously not happy and neither was this consummate experiencer.

As we walked out, N17500 lighter, I did a little mental calculation and wondered what the cost-benefit of hiring a private investigator to look into the restaurant’s activities every Monday. 

The Blue Elephant restaurant is located on 85 King Perekule Street, GRA Phase ll, Port Harcourt.

Sidenote: Blue Elephant is usually a stand-out culinary experience in Port Harcourt that probably doesn’t worship an elephant, if you happen to be in Port Harcourt area, visit and please look out for their Mexican Salad and their Ice Cream cake. You will thank me.