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Sugar Lounge is a nice causal bar with Hawaiian feels situated opposite Manly beach. I ordered the Waikiki surfood board, which comes with crispy soft…
Strawberry_vee
Sugar Lounge
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We had a good breakfast here on a Sunday late morning. Food was delicious although they did forgot my extra egg and almost charged me for it. Coffee w…
Sarah Edwards
Sugar Lounge
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The view of Manly beach is beautiful, but somewhat ironic when the ‘catch of the day’ is frozen, and has to be defrosted when ordered. When it finally…
Rachel Beardsmore
Sugar Lounge
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Sugar Lounge is open for Bar. Sugar Lounge serves Bar Food and Pizza dishes. Incorrect or missing information? Make a report, or claim the restaurant if you own it!Details
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5 Reviews on “Sugar Lounge”
Sugar Lounge is a nice causal bar with Hawaiian feels situated opposite Manly beach. I ordered the Waikiki surfood board, which comes with crispy soft shell crab, coconut prawns & garlic chili calamari. My fav w the coconut prawns. They also have 2 for 1 happy hour cocktails. I ordered Coco Paloma, a tequila based cocktail served with grapefruit soda. Sipping happy hour drinks to this view, who could resist!
We had a good breakfast here on a Sunday late morning. Food was delicious although they did forgot my extra egg and almost charged me for it. Coffee was great. The staff were lovely but looked to be very busy (maybe understaffed?) so we did wait a while for our order. The fiery beans were so good but not fiery enough- was delicious though. Would eat here again but on a quieter day
The view of Manly beach is beautiful, but somewhat ironic when the ‘catch of the day’ is frozen, and has to be defrosted when ordered. When it finally arrived at the table, of course it was still raw in the middle. The prawn salad lacked any enthusiasm and the prawns were burnt, the steak was over cooked, the sauces tasted as though they were from a bottle and the chips were not potato, rather some form of unidentifiable root vegetable. Overall the food was either over or undercooked, bland and not worth the wait. In the end, the manager presented us with the wrong bill, then couldn’t find our bill and after far too long messing around the manager allowed us to leave without charge.
Not very good customer service. I left a really expensive item here and they did not answer the phone, I tired calling ten times, left voicemails, emailed, and even facebooked messaged. Not one response. Not acceptable when you leave behind something high value – a response would be polite even if they don’t have it.
The Sugar Lounge. Manly. A damp Thursday evening. School holidays. We’re wearing wristbands. The wristbands ingratiate us to the tune of half-off food and drinks, at the above, thanks to our participation in Lululemon’s 20th, by way of a yoga class, at Queenie SLSC. But half-off isn’t nearly enough. By half. The place is almost completely empty, save for a lonely guy, in a chair, fixated on one of the most inexcusably appalling soloists you’re ever likely to ahed the misfortune of hearing. I hope. Not only does he sing off-key, but he’s intrusively loud. And finishes his set by alighting from his stool and emitting a loud, proud burp, adjacent to our table, while muttering something about his rockstar status. He’s nice. He’ different. He’s unusual. He garners unexpected support from bogans, in triplicate, drinking beer and trying to insinuate themselves as macho and menacing. The staff are charming, helpful, solicitous and, obviously, tolerant. But the (erstwhile) 17-buck cocktails lack bang and are, mostly, ice. Still, their kitsch, old-school festoons of fruit are entertaining and nutritious. The Jamaican Red Stripe beer is undistinguished, if moderately chilled. The food is abominable. And that’s disparaging to the snowman. My fresh-sounding broccoli, mixed leaf, almond and whatnot salad is wilted and drowned, rather than adorned, with balsamic. The bloc is anything but fresh and the almonds consist of but a few flakes. The extra-cost chargrilled prawns aren’t. What they are is old. And dry. Her steak is pale, grey; if cooked medium-rare, as ordered. It’s tender, too, but untrimmed of fat. The baed potato and onion ring is ok, I guess. All this (and less) delivered amidst the dubious ambience conjured by the above and a faux, gaudy, pseudo-Hawaiian vibe. Very Gilligan’s Island. At least we were able to finally escape this tragedy and walk back out, into the welcoming rain. Does it get any worse?! I hope not. Third world. Third rate. Not good. Not bad. But ugly.