Tag Food

Eat the Chicken

Michael Leave a comment

Sometimes you run across a story that just won’t quit.  Such is the news that hamburger is soon to be as expensive as steak.  Over the past month we’ve seen this story in the local evening news, the morning news, the weekend news, the national morning news, the Internet news, and in two newspapers.  We’ve even heard it on the radio.  We’re guessing it’s getting close to the time that our next burger will require a home equity loan.  Maybe we should start from the beginning.

The news media and/or the cattle industry started priming us to expect higher beef prices last summer.  The drought, which may or may not have already happened, was resulting in less prime grazing land and thus smaller, lighter beef cattle. Eventually that morphed into farmers were keeping less cattle so those that were grazing would be well fed.  By the end of the year, as the well fed cattle made it to market, they weren’t as fattened up as they should have been and they sold off for less than expected.  And that meant that our consumer prices had to go up to make the differences.  In a nutshell.

Prices go up, prices go down.  We know that when one is dealing with food that itself has to eat before it becomes food, whether livestock or agri-stock, variables such as the weather will create variables in the ultimate market price.  Pigs went through the same pattern last year and that is why we now have $4.00-$5.00 per pound bacon.  It doesn’t explain why the price of pork chops remained essentially unchanged.  After all, it is the same pig.

Back to the cow.  The most popular cut of beef is not cut but ground.  Whether ground chuck, round, or mixed source, whether 85%, 93%, or 97% lean, Americans buy more ground beef than in any recognizable cut.  Thus the headlines that hamburger is soon to as expensive as steak.  Nobody said all beef prices are going up, just that ground beef is following the trail blazed by bacon.  This makes us wonder once again that it is all the same cow, or steer, or whatever.  How long before pot roast is out of reach of the average American family?  Will filet mignon no longer be the center point of a celebratory dinner, giving way to Salisbury Steak?

Not to be outdone by the western cattle farmer, the eastern dairy cow farmer has now announced that due to our most recent bouts of inclement weather, the dairy industry is faced with less nourished dairy cows and we should expect a gallon of white milk to soon rival the price of a good white wine.  Here too, less water means fewer cows and fewer cows mean less milk and nobody has suggested that butter, cheese, or Klondikes will also experience a sudden price increase.  Only with the most common cow product will the dairy industry be milking the public.  (Sorry.)

I suppose we’ll just have to wait things out.  In the meantime have a breakfast of pricey bacon with a glass of pricey milk, a lunch of a pricey hamburger with a pricey milkshake, all wrapped up with a dinner of a pricey meatloaf and a cheap bottle of wine.

Or, we could have chicken.  Seems the weather hasn’t bothered the poultry group much.  Yet.  But then, what’s it cost to feed them anyway, chicken feed?

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Large is the New Small

Michael 2 Comments

A while ago He of We stopped at a pizza shop new to him.  It was late, he hadn’t had dinner, didn’t feel like making dinner, always wanted to try this pizza, so it seemed like a good idea.  He walked up to the counter and with all the confidence of a starving man said, “I’ll take a small pepperoni.”  “We don’t have small.  Only large and extra large.”  Hmm, a quandary.  So he asked for the smaller of the two and it was confirmed that would be the large.

We might have stumbled on to something.  Although we don’t have the statistics at our fingertips, we are pretty sure Americans are getting bigger.  They seem to be compared to what we recall from our youth.  Could it be because there is no more small?  At He’s work cafeteria there is no small soft drink.  Although not as excessive as the big 32 ounce mega-mugs many convenience stores sell as their standard drink size, it is still disconcerting that one has to buy twice as much liquid refreshment as one wants because of limited sizes.  Many fast food restaurants only have small beverages to go with their small kid size meals.  Everything else is upsized.

It’s not just food and beverages that have grown.  In this age of tighter fuel economy and higher gas prices, cars are growing.  Friend of Daughter of He recently bought the small SUV Chevy Equinox, which is every bit as long and wide as He’s older mid-sized GMC Envoy, whose replacement the Acadia is as large as his previous full size GMC Yukon whose new replacement wouldn’t even fit into the garage which is why he ended up with the Envoy.  There is something wrong here.

Or perhaps not.  If everything small is now large it saves us the embarrassment in front of friends and family of wanting the wimpy size.  At the same time, it allows up to be superior to friends and family by not having to settle for the wimpy size.   We ask for the smallest available and it will be larger than whatever anybody else already has.  Then if they want bigger they can go and order the compact which will be bigger still.  And so on, and so on, and so on.

Now that we have that all sorted out we’re left with only one other question.  What happened to medium?

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Seasons Eatings

Michael Leave a comment

Last week the company for which He of We works sent out Christmas presents to the 3,000 and some employees it has across the country – turkeys! Not live turkeys, frozen turkeys. And as such demonstrations of largesse do so often, controversy immediately arose.

The most heard complaint (who complains about free anything?) was “What am I going to do with a turkey after Thanksgiving?” Taking a cue from perhaps the greatest Christmas movie ever released, “A Christmas Story,” the obvious answer would be to have it for Christmas. Now these birds weren’t anywhere near the size of the turkey Ralphie’s father dreams of every yule. A modest 10 or 12 pounds were these. But they were big enough to spark discussions throughout the building.

Apparently almost 40% of those in that building never had, don’t currently have, or will not have plans for turkey for Christmas. What do these people eat? A very informal poll revealed that about half of that group has ham, about half has some cut of roast beef, and about half has lobster, crab, shrimp or some other seafood. Some have sausage. A few have duck. One claimed venison if the hunting season was successful. Nobody has the classic Christmas goose. You will notice that there are well over four halves for that 40%. That’s because almost nobody admitted to only one protein at the Christmas table. Everyone, including the turkey eaters, at the very minimum double dips on the meats at Christmas.

Unlike Thanksgiving where turkey is still the biggest centerpiece on most tables, Christmas food traditions are taking a diverse path. Even the side dishes are more varied than the earlier holiday table sees. Many menus still include sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, corn, squashes, and green beans (although the green bean casserole is losing favor in our area). But next to those traditional offerings will sit root vegetables, pastas, rices, pomegranates, mac and cheese, and even quinoa.

The one consistent thing about the Christmas feast, with or without an accompanying Christmas Eve feast, is that Christmas also ends up with many people in food comas spread across sofas watching old movies and munching on the ever present Christmas cookies.

No matter how you carve it, it’s a wonderful time of the year!

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Get In Line

Michael Leave a comment

Regular readers know we aren’t good waiters. Lines do not thrill us. Some people find themselves very comfortable standing still behind tens of other people also standing still. We don’t. We especially don’t want to be behind many other people waiting to eat. Just a few days ago we got to combine our displeasure of waiting with our dislike for lines.

It was over the weekend that we were at one of our favorite things, a springtime maple festival. Being in the American north east we are surrounded by maples. Trees in general take up almost every square foot of land around that hasn’t already been turned into Class A office space or $300,000 McMansions. (Has anyone else noticed that nobody ever builds Class B office space? What if we don’t want private elevators, multi-zone climate control, and integrated security/entertainment software? But that’s a post for a different day.)

We were saying, trees in general are big here. And among them, oak and maple top the list. You can’t get anything out of an oak except some really cool shade in the summer and habitats for little woodland creatures all year long. And a lot of maples will never yield more than solid wood furniture. But the sugar maple has that special something running through its veins, if it had veins for anything to run through. And that something is sap and with enough sap you get syrup and with syrup you get the classic Maple Festival. If it’s indeed a classic, you have hot, homemade pancakes. With pancakes made out of freshly milled flour and fresh boiled syrup you get lines. Lines of well over a couple hundred people long waiting for hours to get to the pancakes to pour the syrup over. We don’t understand it.   We’ll buy the flour and the syrup and have our own. And while everyone else is standing in line, we’ll visit the hundred or so vendors that show up with the handmade crafts to sell while the festival folk sell their handmade syrup. We like it. We buy it. We just don’t want to stand in a line for it.

Yet many do. And as we were driving ourselves home that afternoon we started to wonder, just what would we be willing to stand in line for. We’ve never stood in line for tickets to concerts or theaters or sporting events. We’ve gone to many but we don’t pitch a tent the night before to get the best seat. With a few exceptions, the best seat is usually the one in front of the television anyway. We’ve never stood in line for a store to open on Black Friday. We would stand in line to go back to bed the day after Thanksgiving but not to buy one. We once stood in line to get three (yes, three) autographs of three (yes, three) hockey players. If we were so fond of baseball or opera or professional badminton we might have once stood in line for autographs of their great ones but we aren’t so we didn’t and even for hockey we might not again.

Some lines you have to stand in. You’ll never board a plane without first standing in line at the security checkpoint and then again at the gate boarding ramp. If you didn’t print your boarding pass at home the day before add the line at the ticket counter to get one of them before you hit the other two. And if you check baggage through there are lines to check it and then to wrestle it off the conveyor belt. With luck, you’ll never have to stand in the line to determine where they lost it. Airports are not happy places for people who don’t like lines.

And what about you? Line stander, line jumper? Line aficionado, or line abhorrer? Oh, did we mention that in order to get to that festival with the line of people waiting for their pancakes we had to wait in line for the shuttle to take us to the festival grounds? We had no choice; it was either that or walk 3 miles from the parking lot. We know where to draw the line.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Calling Mrs. Petrie

Michael Leave a comment

The Robert Petries did it.  The Darren Stevenses did it.  Even the Major Nelsons did it.  And so did our parents and probably yours.  The classic American house party.  Where has it gone?  We’ve seen some modern versions of it, a backyard fish fry, a deck party, a holiday open house.  They all have most of the elements of the landmark shindig just missing Rob and Laura pushing back the furniture and dancing to the three piece combo invited just for the occasion.  Then we got involved!

Our merry band of friends and relatives attempted a revival of it last fall.  Now some three months later people still talk of it.  Twenty or so revelers all came over within 15 minutes or so of all the others and all left within 15 minutes or so of all the others and while they were here there was mingling and snacking and drinking in celebration of absolutely nothing in particular.  There was live music just for the occasion and attempts at impromptu dancing.  (And promises of real dancing at the next one.  See, they were already planning on us having another before this one spun it last.)  We had no magician but we had sing-a-longs.  We had no charades.  Please, no charades.  And when the last of the party-goers got up and went it was such a quick clean-up that, looking back on it, the prop guys must have helped.  We’re certain Laura, though a little jealous, would have been quite proud.

We’re both of an age that we remember our parents having friends over and someone playing some instrument and someone else singing along.  Food was plentiful but trying to recall specific menus gets us not much farther than cheese and crackers.  There were games.  Cards and dice seemed to play starring roles in these efforts though maybe someone tried to talk others into at least one round of charades.  Men ended up in one room; women in another.  Somehow, probably by magic, everyone knew when to go home.  And they all talked about it until the next gala.  These were most likely the models for those television version house parties that had to be just a bit more extravagant than our folks could have managed.  Those television versions were not at all the planned model for our merrymaking but in retrospect might have subconsciously been.  And we managed to be just a bit more extravagant than they.

So, with a tip of our hat (worn at a jaunty angle) to Mrs. Petrie, we’re going to continue our revival of a grand American tradition.  Next time we’ll push the furniture back and roll up the rug.  Maybe Rob and Laura will do a soft shoe in celebration of nothing in particular.  They’ll ask us just how we do it time and again.  And the band will play on. 

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Mystery Foods of the U.S.

Michael Leave a comment

You probably heard.  The McRib is back. Since 1981 with a couple years off for good behavior, the mysterious McRib has been a cult hero of fast food sandwiches. The real mystery isn’t the meat, it’s the reason. Why do this and other foods intrigue us so?

In our home town as in everybody else’s home town that has a home town bar, we had a home town bar that actually had on the menu, The Mystery Sandwich. The great difference between our mystery sandwich and others are the UPPER CASE LETTERS. Where so many sandwich makers might put up “Daily Special,” “Chef’s Choice,” or “Joe’s Favorite,” our bar cut through the nonsense and called it what it is. So many leftovers of whatever happened to be at the bottom of the meat tray piled high with various cheeses, lettuce, and mayonnaise, on a toasted roll. Or bread. Or bun. Who knew what was in there. Who cared. It is a mystery. Or was. The famous Mystery Sandwich disappeared when the iconic bar went down and a drug store took its place. Intriguing.

Philadelphia calls itself the home of the cheesesteak. To anybody who ever had a true, original, bona fide, Philly cheesesteak there are mysteries galore. First, there’s the cheese. A true Philadelphian will argue the only true cheese for a true cheesesteak is Cheese Wiz. Melted. We no surer that Wiz is cheese than we are that McRib is rib. The other mystery is who runs those shops, the Soup Nazi? If you find yourself in South Philadelphia around the Italian Market you’ll find yourself around the two super steak shops each claiming to be the best, the original, the top dog if they were selling hot dogs. And at each you’d find a sign outside with instructions on how to order your sandwich. And if you break the rules? No steak for you! Very intriguing.

Coca-Cola, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper. All “invented” in drug stores by pharmacists. Really. We knew that. Actually, really not. Oh they all grew from drug stores and pharmacists were the recipes’ creators. But they weren’t coming up with refreshing summer afternoon soft drinks. These were die hard health drinks. Spring water was the root of all that was healthy. Mineral spring water an even deeper root. Bubbling mineral spring water was the cure all without the wink! And all available to you at the pull of a handle at a soda stand. How to get you into Danny’s Drug Store when Freddie’s Pharmacy was so much closer? Add flavor to the life saving water. And while we’re at it, add just a touch of tobacco, caffeine, or even cocaine. They were the original energy drinks. And a mystery that when the Harrison Act of 1914 prohibited the sale of opiates without a prescription is these drinks kept their energy. Most intriguing.

A century and then some ago, Americans mining iron in Cuba searched for a way to quench their thirst. They turned to what was plentiful. Sugar, limes, and rum. And the daiquiri was born. A teaspoon of sugar, the juice of one lime, and an ounce or two or rum, poured over ice equals instant refreshment. And not at all similar to the frozen fruit flavored concoctions one finds in American bars today. How did the one lead to the other. It might be Ernest Hemingway’s fault. Hemingway was a daiquiri connoisseur and his regular purveyor of the cocktail was the Floridita bar in Havana. There many variations of the drink were begun. One involved blending the original ingredients with ice then straining it through a sieve into a frosted glass. Some postulate that because it took so long to strain the icy concoction many yeilded to temptation to just pour the slushy mix into a glass and go at it before the ice melted and you were left with a warm, watered down lime-aid. Intriguingly intriguing.

So there are just a few of the food mysteries that we quite literally relish. In just a few weeks the McRib will be gone, but we’re ready to guess that by then you’ll have thought of an intriguing mystery sandwich, drink, or combination of your own!

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Real Restaurant Rules

Michael 3 Comments

It’s not often that we invoke actual rules for Real Reality Show Blog readers.  After all, real reality is what you make of it.  But last year was not a banner year for eating out.  We saw poor behavior by almost every facet of the restaurant industry from cooks to coat check attendants.  It was on New Year’s Eve that we finally had to say, “Somebody has got to take control here.”  And those somebodies are us! 

Last summer we found out that if we walk up to a hostess stand and there are three or more workers there, we should turn around and walk away.  We’re not certain but we think that two of the three may have been on their cell phones with each other.  Whatever they were doing they weren’t working on seating the next party.  Since there was then a lack of available seating there seemed little else for the hostesses to do.  Folding linen, polishing flatware, bussing tables, doing anything would have been preferred over just standing around in front of potential patrons waiting for a place to sit.  A tip for the front of the house.

Just a few weeks ago we found out that if you can smell the garlic as you are walked to your table, don’t order the scampi.  We did but She of We did anyway.  It wasn’t all that bad.  Sometimes it’s good to sleep on the couch.  And more and more we need to ask if al dente when applied to vegetables is a code word for raw.  It confuses our mouths when the broccoli is hard and crunchy and the pasta is slightly over done in that not quite mushy manner that happens when you over re-heat what you prepped earlier in the day.  A couple tips for the back of the house.

But by and large, our most disappointment came at the hands of those into whose hands we put our dining experience, the servers.  We’ve tried hinting.  We’ve left a tip here and there.  We’ve held tips back here and there!  We think it’s time for rules.  Real rules for restaurant servers.

                    Rule Number 1.  Tell us the specials when you greet us.  We hate when we are seated, given menus, asked for drink orders, finally decided what we want to eat and then have our server say, “Let me tell you about this evening’s specials.”  You can tell us but either we’re going to not listen because we want to remember what it is we decided on from the menu or you’re going to have to go away again while we reconsider our choices. 
                    Rule Number Next.  When you take our order would be a good time to tell us the chef’s favorite, your favorite, or if there is something everybody has raved about that evening.  It was at our New Year’s Eve dinner at a very fine restaurant with normally very fine food and service that our waitress insisted on telling us what she likes to eat for each course AFTER each course was served.  By the time the dessert menu came out we thought about just having her order for us.   
                    Rule Number Next and a Half.  Please taste what you serve.  Although we appreciate the honesty of “I don’t know, I never had it here,” we don’t appreciate the lack of attention to detail that you wouldn’t want to know everything there is to know about the food you serve.   We watch all the cooking shows but we still don’t know all the jargon or even all the food.  Is broccolini a pasta or a vegetable.  Or is that boccone?  Bocconcini is the pasta?  You can help us.  Robert Irvine would be proud of you.
                    Rule Number the One After That.  Pay attention to the table’s flow.  If we are still working on our appetizers, do not bring out the soup.  It was around Thanksgiving when the last thing we wanted was more turkey.  So we ambled over to a nearby Italian restaurant where we had the ultimate plan.  A smokey fonduta, a classic Caesar, some decadently cheesey pastas, topped off with a course of zeppole.  Heaven.  What we got was our salad first, the appetizer and entrée together, and we left without ordering dessert.  There is a rule (and not ours) that never should new plates be served until old plates are cleared.  Unfortunately like most speed limit laws that seems to have turned into a suggestion.  We were even willing to ignore the fact that the waitress reminded us at each table visit that it was her first night.  We’re actually the perfect couple to break in new staff.  We’re very low maintenance, rarely order off the menu, and generally tip well.  Then there are those times when even we can’t turn the lifelong served one into a number one server.  
                    Rule Next to the Last.  Know why you stopped by.  We are convinced that most wait persons have no idea why they stop back after serving a course to ask if everything is ok.  Well, that’s the reason.  It’s not to see if we’re enjoying ourselves.  It’s an opportunity to confirm that what we were served is prepared properly and as we ordered it.  The question should be, “Is everything as you expected?”  If you get the urge to tell us that you thought we’d enjoy it even though you always have it with chicken, please see one of the rules above. Something up there covers that.
                    Rule Last.  When you bring us our check and we decide to pay in cash don’t ask us if we want change.  If you were working at the mega mart and someone handed over a wad of bills for their groceries would you ask if the shopper wanted change?  Assume we want what is ours.  If you feel you have to say something, say, “I’ll be right back with your change.”  If we decide to share some of that with you, we’ll let you know.

So for the waitstaff workforce out there, there are our tips for you.  No, not tips, not advice, not veiled hints.  Those are our rules.  There aren’t hard to follow and those who do will be richly rewarded.  We have some favorite servers we don’t even wait for change from.  That’s a rule too.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

The Gift of Music

Michael Leave a comment

What do pumpkin cakes, ceramic penguins, dip dishes (with dip mixes in 2 flavors!), and holiday CDs have in common?  After tonight they will have all been party favors at our Christmas Eve dinner.

Christmas Eve is a special time for us.  It was the first holiday that we combined families at a formal gathering.  It was the first holiday that we lightened up a formal gathering.  And it’s probably the holiday that almost everybody most looks forward to.

Christmas Eve has also become a holiday that we never know exactly how many people will be with us.  Our core families will be there.  But there always is at least one extra couple and never invited by Either of We.  We don’t care.  There’s always room at the table.  But it makes those favors a bit interesting.  This year we decided on holiday music CDs.  You can’t beat a good Christmas Carol.  We have the gamut from Carol of the Bells to Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.  We’re planning on 10 at the table but we got 14 CDs because we’re never really sure.

A formal dinner for 14 might seem a bit extravagant to begin with.  Neither of We hit the rich mark in the ‘how well off are you’ scale.  We still manage to put together a traditional Italian feast of the seven fishes (for He of We’s side) and a traditional seafood themed American Christmas Eve (at She of We’s urging and to the great relief of many on He or We’s side).  With all that seafood, how do we manage to put together a dozen unique favors especially when they are favoring our guests with the gift of music, usually not an inexpensive offering.  He of We will take credit for that one.

We were out shopping and not even thinking of favors for Christmas Eve.  We had just finished up with Thanksgiving and were trying to shift ourselves from one holiday to another.  We ended up in one of our favorite, but not routinely visited stores.  It has literally everything.  Water heaters, garden flags, canned goods and canning goods.  Local sports teams doo-dads and needlework craft sets.  Hoses and hooks.  Books and — CDs.  While checking out the holiday themed flashlights He of We spotted a pair of spinner racks at the end of an aisle.  Thereupon sat hundreds of CDs.  All Christmas music, all the time.  And every one of them priced at one dollar.  One hundred cents, ten thin dimes, a buck a piece.  They had “favor” written all over them.

But (isn’t there always a but in a perfectly good favor find?), but, who gets what?  Who likes what?  We have a most eclectic Christmas Eve group.  We run the gamut from refined, retired ladies to a couple who met on an oil drilling rig.  Not to say that a well driller isn’t refined.  But there are probably differences in musical taste.  Do they get the CD with Mariah Carey, or the one with the studio group singing “Good King What’s His Name?”  And not only is the group eclectic.  So are the CDs.  Let’s face it, these are dollar CDs.  You aren’t getting the Mormon Tabernacle Choir for a dollar.  Well, actually, now, there were two of them that had selections sung by just that choir.  And some had Glen Campbell.  There were those with the London Symphony and there were those while listening you could Swing and Sway with Sammy Kaye.  Every case we turned we saw names we’d not imagine would see on a dollar CD.  Every couple of cases would actually bring out a little vocalization.  Yes, people did turn when She of We waved one she found with Liberace!  Most probably because she shouted, “Liberace!”

So we stood there, Each of We stationed at a spinner, sorting through the jewel cases like little kids picking out candy in the corner store.  Would this one work for She of We’s 28 year old son.  What about He of We’s cousin who grew up at the symphony.  Does anybody like country?  Does anybody like operatic?  Which semi-regular couple friend of a relative will show up this year?  Plan for both, we’ll never get another chance.  How could we resist?  It’s hard enough to be creative but to be creative on a budget is a million times harder.  To be creative for over a dozen people for less than a 20 dollar bill was a Christmas miracle.

Almost an hour later we were done.  Fourteen individual CDs plus a couple for our cars.  If you were to show up at our table this evening we’d probably have something to fit your taste.  You’d get something.  Everybody gets something.  It’s a rule.  And if you bring a lot of friends with you everybody will still get something.  We might run out of CDs but there are always the holiday crackers.  Maybe you’ll be the lucky one to sit through dinner wearing the paper hat.

Remember, everybody gets something.  It’s the rule!

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Cleanliness is next to the scrambled eggs

Michael Leave a comment

Regular readers know we like to go out to eat.  We’ve mentioned it in more than a few posts.  Usually we also mention our likes and dislikes and usually there are more likes than dislikes.  Usually.

Recently we were at a national chain family restaurant.  To hear them say it, they are the ones who invented wholesome long before your great-grandmother thought of it.  They also invented hearty, healthy, hunger-satisfying, and home-style.  Unfortunately, they didn’t invent the dishwasher.

It was a Sunday morning, late enough that most of the after church crowd had already been through but early enough that the mid-day crowd hadn’t.  We didn’t even have to wait for a seat, and once we were seated behind the faux barn rails it didn’t take much time for us to make our choices.  And although it took a bit longer than it really needed for our choices to be turned into food, they should have taken a bit longer and washed the plates.  Yep, dirty plates.  Two of them.  Both served to She of We. 

She beckoned to the waitress and expressed concern over having to eat from a dirty plate.  At this point she had only been given one of the dirty dishes.  Waitress Lady told us that we shouldn’t be too concerned.  “They’re working back there with lots of grease you know.”  The rim of the plate was clearly soiled and She of We let Waitress Lady clearly know she’d wait for a clearly clean one.  So off it went – plate 1 of 2.  (Why is it that breakfast combinations always come on two plates?)   While waiting for a new Plate #1, Plate #2 came out and Waitress Lady hustled back to the back and was soon back again with replacement Plate #1.  Back she came just as She of We was scraping along the rim of Plate #2.  More former food residue.  “Can I have this redone also please?” and off it went back to the back.

Soon, much too soon, Waitress Lady was back again with Plate #2.  “I lifted up the pancakes and it looked clean under there so I put them on a new plate for you,” and she beamed the smile of one who had discovered penicillin.  As perhaps she had.

“Thank you,” said She of We, “but I’ll wait for new pancakes.”  (Which were remarkably tasty and fluffy when finally they did appear but that’s a whole different post.)

To make a long story even longer, after more excuses about all the grease they’re cooking with back there (there was nothing about lard on the menu but Waitress Lady has us wondering), we finally got clean plates, full meals, and a check.  The check was for the table next to ours but it was a start.

As we were on our way out the young lady working the cash register asked those ominous words, how was everything, and got to hear everything.  She of We was very polite and said the food was very good but she had to wait for all of her selections because they kept coming out on dirty plates.  And everything was a bit cold.  And we got the wrong check.  And the young lady asked us to wait and the manager was soon out and expressed his concern over our concerns with an immediate discount.

And even though it was a remarkably unremarkable meal, we’ll probably go back because we’re pretty sure that the manager was on his way to see the dishwashers.  Whether they deserved it or not, he probably gave them another chance.

And so will we.  

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Decisions, Decisions – and not the easy political kind

Michael Leave a comment

We’re in a quandary.  A friend, a local entertainer, an incredible talent, a vocalist who accompanies himself on the acoustic guitar played his first gig and a nearby lounge a little while ago.  He typically has played in venues that although aren’t far away, are far away enough that you check your gas gauge before you leave home for the evening. So we were quite thrilled when he wrote and told us he’d be no more than 3 miles from He of We’s driveway.

And drive away we did.  We had been to the venue twice before.  Once for a Sunday brunch they no longer do (which was very good), and once for dinner (which was beyond their capabilities).  In neither case was the service anything even approaching average.  It had been at least a year since we had been there so we were anxious to see what changes they had made.

They hadn’t.  But the evening was not a loss.  The food was bad, the service worse, but the entertainment was as first rate as we had anticipated.  We even introduced He of We’s daughter to the acoustic troubadour expanding his influence into the next generation.  The crowd was into his performance and applauded each offering (yes, we’ll say it) wildly.  But the food was so bad.  And the service was so worse.

What we will do if the restaurant brings him back on a regular basis? We don’t want to hurt his feelings not showing up when it’s not even a 15 minute drive, including lights, when we’ve driven over an hour to hear him.  But we don’t want to risk gastro-intestinal distress, possibly irreparable damage, if we have to subject ourselves to their idea of cooking once a month.  We can’t even feign enjoyment and pick our way through the one or two items nobody can screw up because those were the ones they ran out of early in the evening.  Even if they didn’t, we still have to subject ourselves to the worst service we’d seen since the Sixth Grade Washington DC Field Trip Spaghetti Dinner Fundraiser.

We suppose we’re going to have to arrange to be out of town whenever he plays there (“Oh, we wish we knew you were there this week.  We had these airline vouchers we had to use before Monday and thought this would be a good time to see Guam.”), or car trouble (“What bad luck, we were on our way when of all things we couldn’t get the hood to go down.  We thought we could have backed all the way there but the nice police officer didn’t.”), or illness (“Hack hack cough cough sneeze wheeze sneeze.  We’ll make it.  We missed your last 7 sets there.  Well, if you really think you really don’t mind”). 

We don’t know.  Maybe gastrointestinal distress once a month might be good for us.  

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?