Dining Out

Rita & I recently joined our friends Joe & Paul in an excursion to a one-of-a-kind restaurant. It was no accident that we ended up at this particular restaurant because the foodies in the group (hint: not me or Joe) have been stalking this place for years. All it took was the Great Recession and voila – reservations are available to the common folk.

This restaurant is apparently famous (fame being relative, of course) for pioneering new ways of preparing and serving food in the most extravagant aesthetic way possible. By way of context – if Rube Goldberg were still alive, he would be in charge of table service. For example, one course was served on a pillow. That’s right – a pillow. But wait, there’s more. A pillow filled with lavender-infused air. As the pillow deflated, lavender escaped and mingled with your rhubarb sorbet. Are you freakin kidding me?? (The waiter did NOT appreciate my comparison to a “pot-pourri satchel who’s fragrance would enhance your entire underwear drawer”.)

The steak course (and by course, I mean 2 inch square of wagyu beef) was presented alongside a ceramic vase­ on the table containing dry ice and herbs. When our waiter added the water to the centerpiece, clouds of rosemary-infused smoke began erupting from the vase and cascading onto the floor. And I mean ALL over the floor. Between our particular table of patrons and the billowy smoke effects, we were one Donna Summer song away from official gay-bar designation.

The presentation of each course seemed to escalate throughout the night until I was certain the last course was going to be shot out of a dessert cannon from the kitchen (I was NOT that far off).

I find it challenging enough to deal with any food that isn't served in its own wrapper. If you provide a course inverted on its head, suspended over a soup bowl or dangling off a wire – you better expect some tablecloth casualties from the food “day-brie” that will go flying around me. (Obviously “aethestics” do not call for low-centers-of-gravity that might otherwise assist when Lucy Ricardo’s bumbling cousin comes to dinner). By the second course, the restaurant had allocated one whole server to nothing but my spillages.

And the topper…Rita bought the cookbook.