Bubba Gump’s, @ the Peak

Let me set the scene. It was a bloody boiling Saturday night and Susan and I were famished and in want of a nice normal night after having had a relatively large Friday night (i.e. religiously consumed white wine in 40 degree heat).

So we decided to head up to the Peak, to take a few touristy shots and grab a quick, simple, no fuss dinner. Yet what we got in return for our nerdlinger wishes was one of the strangest meal experiences either one of us has ever encountered.

After seeing a super daggy billboard that boasted the ‘Best Views, Best Hamburgers and Best Fun’ at the Peak, we both got a bit of an inkling for a good old-fashioned burger, so decided to dine (I use the term loosely) at “Bubba Gump's”.

Yes people, that is right. There is an ultra odd franchise named after the very fictional franchise in Forrest Gump, and it is . . . how does one put this succinctly? . . . ridiculously lamo.

Now those who know me well, know I’m usually not one to be harsh, and also know I am not adverse to oddities, however this place was just altogether wrong.

Think the Hard Rock Café on acid, if it was run by Willy Wonka's stranger and hickish cousin. Then you have Bubba Gump's.

The place is littered with shite Forrest Gump memorabilia. Photos of Tom Hanks and Robin Wright adorn the wooden walls, between random quotes about Alabama and ye olde Yanky Pepsi signs.

Yet what makes Bubba Gump’s even more bizarre is how much the staff genuinely seem to think it’s cool. What a bunch of nerrrrrds! I was afraid I would catch an almost lethal dose of nerd, for just being in there. Walk in with sniffles, walk out with an addiction to Dungeons & Dragons.

Anyhoo, we were met at the door by a chatty maitre de, and soon shuffled us to a booth (with no ‘Best Views’) where we were delivered ‘the rules of the restaurant’.

It seems every table has two little signs on it. One says ‘Run Forrest Run’ (RFR), and one says ‘Stop Forrest, Stop’ (SFS). You with me so far?

So, when you want your waiter to stop at your table, you must (I repeat must!) have your sign set to ‘Stop Forrest, Stop’ – and in turn, if you do not require assistance it must be set at ‘Run Forrest, Run’ to ensure you are not disturbed. We all clear on the rules then?

After we’ve been ‘briefed’, we were momentarily left alone to check out the menu (and the drinks menu, which is listed on a ping-pong bat by the way). Still pretty set on the hamburger, but slightly drawn to the Cajun chicken burger, we decide to get both and split them. And I figure, when in Rome, and also decide to get a bucket-o-garlic shrimps. Bring it on I say defiantly, with one fist raised in the air!

Suddenly a head bobs into our booth with gusto "Ready to order gals?" . . . we dutifully smile and nod. . . "Then flip the sign to SFS," says our toothy American waiter.

We giggle then start to order and he interrupts us in a manner which can only be described as vile and odious: “Flip. The. Sign.”

Ok, so about forty different things are going thru my head at this point (main one being ‘k'off you loser’) and I sneak a quick glance at Susan who is looking equally bemused and brusque.

Yet not being one to cause a scene, I obediently start to flip the sign to SFS and turn back to the waiter who is still staring hatefully into the depths of my soul. However as the sign is put to its correct status, the big toothy grin appears back on his face, and he says patronisingly, “Alrighty then, noooow we are ready to order.”

And order we do . . . bucket-o-shrimp, hamburger, Cajun chicken burger, two Pepsis please (ya weirdo).

I guess I should talk about the food briefly for you, although I shan’t keep you for long. The prawns (right), I mean the shrimp, were ok. Nice n garlicky which I love, yet not shelled, which meant after removing the shells you lost most of the garlic. And they were bloody tiny. These don't make ‘em like they do in Stray-ya.

The burger was crap. Dry and boring. It came with a nice thousand island sauce, which was a bonus . . . however the chips were crap too, so it was no fun dipping them in there.

The really only saving grace was the Cajun chicken burger, which was reasonable. Not great, but reasonable and it brings my overall score up somewhat.

Any more weird shite happen? Yes. Plenty. Though I don’t have three days to type it all out so I will just give you a sampling. Half way through our meal, another waiter came to our booth and did this peculiar thumbs-up style of dance for us, while saying ‘OOOOOKKKKAAAAYY’ over and over again in a heavily accented voice (think he learnt his English from a Jackie Chan film).

Did this dance happen in Forrest Gump, the movie? Was I asleep in that part!?

Another highlight was when our original waiter obtrusively bobbed his head back into our booth to ask if we wanted a Pepsi refill. All while the sign was clearly marked to ‘Run Forrest Run’ (aka no service please). At this point Susan loses her patience with this whole thing.

“Mate, what does the sign say?” (He pauses, blinks and tilts his head to one side). “It says bugger off.”

hA! Go Sus! High fives sister.

Anyway, let me wrap up this intolerable blog with my score . . .

Décor?
Was crappy, but it’s meant to be that way, so therefore I can't really comment.

Service?
Same as above, though I am still somewhat weirded out by it all. In fact it left me with the same feeling I get when I watch Return to Oz, or the barf-a-rama scene in Stand By Me (i.e. freaked out).

Food?
Crappy. Wouldn't give it more than 3 out of 10.

Is this an accurate assessment of Bubba Gump’s?
I think not, as I know a fair few people in this country that enjoy it as a good family restaurant. Perhaps Sus and I were just the wrong girls to mess with that day.

Do I think I would love the place if I was an eight-year old boy?
Hell yes.