Gelert's - Gwynedd

Had a great pint of local cask ale in the bar here. Really nice decor and very good service too. Thanks.

During our visit to the restaurant in Wales during the lockdown, we felt very safe as our temperature was checked upon arrival. We opted for the set menu and were impressed by the delicious food, especially the Welsh Lamb Rump. The presentation of the dishes was also exceptional. I highly recommend trying the Sticky Toffee Pudding!

Lovely food would very much recommend this restaurant it was excellent I'd recommend the lamb! Delicious meals and standard prices was lucky enough to eat on the patio outdoors. Staff also very friendly and covid compliant.

We just popped in for a night cap as we were staying at the hotel. It was full with drinkers and diners.

Let us begin this tale with a brief analogy: step forward Donald Gennaro. Not ringing a bell? I bet you know him: he 's the blood sucking lawyer from 'Jurassic Park ' you know, the one who is unfortunate enough to be devoured by the T Rex whilst he is sat on the toilet. Yep, him. What a roller coaster of emotions he must have felt during those couple of days he resided on that island: overjoyed with greedy excitement at the prospect of dollar bills dancing their way into his pockets, swiftly shifting to the realisation that his imminent final resting place would be in several chewed up chunks in the belly of a should be dead dino. Commiserations, Donald. For years I have been able to take comfort from the fact that I have never had to endure such a deluge of disappointment...until the grave goings on of a recent bright, but brutal, August Monday. I want to be clear: our my partner and I experience eating in Gelert 's Bar was ok; average; tolerable choose your synonym but, in comparison to subsequent scoffs there, it was like having pernicious prehistoric teeth plunged through your heart. Anyway, let 's get back on scedule, I mean schedule. My partner and I ALWAYS ensure that we visit Gelert 's Bar for lunch every time we are in Porthmadog at least twice a year and we ALWAYS order the same thing; 'Fish Finger Butty '. Oh you should see it: brilliantly breaded goujons, swishing with flavour; tantalising tartar sauce charging onto your taste buds like a herd of gallivanting Gallimimus They 're flocking this way! ; hand crafted loaf, sliced lovingly into affectionate triangles; and thrice cooked homemade chips, which provoke the predatory instinct like a potato fairly should. A tumultuation of flavour, fabric and fun. “So, who’s hungry?” exclaimed my partner. “Clever girl!” I replied with a twinkle, brimming with expectation on the first day no less! of our recent voyage to Porthmadog. Wasting no time, I took flight from the base of our balcony, proceeding to spring along the coastal corridor before me, pausing only briefly to receive a wink from a scaly local in the cove below. “Must go faster,” I thought, as hopes floated hopelessly high in the summer canvas overhead – alas: a solitary cloud began to grow… “Two Fish Finger Butties, please.” I ordered directly as we entered the bar, and we positioned ourselves with enough room to ensure we could salivate inappropriately in anticipation of our lunch. After an enjoyable, yet exasperating, interval – it seemed like 65 million years! – I felt a vibration. The water in my glass pulsed, disseminating in a shiver from middle to edge. Then another tremor, and I turned to see that our feast arrived. I knew straight away something was wrong: the usual slate serving plates a subtle addition were absent, replaced by some archaic crockery akin to the café in Corrie. A nervous glance at the food, and I felt a wrench in my stomach, as if I’d been slashed across the belly with a six inch retractable claw. It was far too beige. What an earth were these chips? Triple cooked? Nope. McCain’s? Maybe. The bread: lacking the granary gusto of its predecessor. The overall presentation and pride in the dish seemed extinct. “Jen – Freeze!” I cried, as she placed the first chip onto her palate. But it was too late. The saving grace of the meal was, thank goodness, the key component itself: the goujons were still gorgeous and the tartar remained tasty. Nevertheless, in comparison to our many excellent previous visits, the rest of the meal was poor. I wonder has there been a change in the kitchen? I hope it’s not a cost cutting consequence. Having already parted with our cash, we ate up and, after shooting a sinister side glance at the six foot turkey stood at the till, I trudged out of Gelert’s Bar to be greeted by what was now a much more violent vista. There may as well have been a meteor hurtling towards me, such was my mood. Donald, I empathise. Fond memories do persevere and, for them, we will return again, hoping that this visit was a mere hiccup. Three stars out of loyalty. Maybe it was coupon day, or something.