"Everybody's lookin' somewhere for their fair share of wonder" --Steve Gillette & Charles John Quarto

Saturday night we try an Arlington restaurant that has a promising menu. You'll note I'm not mentioning the restaurant's name or opening with a rave because even though the food was okay to good it was overshadowed by a number of strange moments. Yeah, I'm overly critical. Check this out anyway and tell me if this is the kind of dining experience you look for...

Strange moment #1: The table or Do we not clean up well?

We arrive promptly for a 7:00 reservation and are shown to a table in the half-full restaurant. They show us to the table closest to the bathroom. And, before you ask, we were dressed appropriately and acting appropriately. We weren't even doing the potty dance. We asked if we might be seated somewhere that wasn't right next to the bathroom. The hostess said "Sure!" and pointed us to the next table over.

Strange moment #2: The order or I didn't mean to confuse you.

The waitress is taking our order. It goes something like this...

Me: I'd like the Grilled Mushrooms... and the Fisherman's Pasta, please.
Waitress: You want... what?
Me: *pointing at each item on the menu* The Grilled Mushrooms for my appetizer and the Fisherman's Pasta for the entree. Please.
Waitress: Grilled Mushrooms?
Me: *pointing to menu where it says Grilled Mushrooms* Yes, and the Fisherman's Pasta.
Waitress: That's so weird. It used to say Stuffed Mushrooms. They must have changed it.
Me: Stuffed? Often, stuffed mushrooms are fried. Are these fried or grilled?
Waitress: Well, even when the menu said stuffed, they weren't really stuffed. No, they weren't fried. They were grilled, I think.
Me: Okay, I'll have that.
Waitress: I didn't know they changed the menu.
Me:
Waitress: *writing* Okay, the Mushrooms and the Fisherman's Pasta.

Now, call me quirky, but I expect the waitstaff to know what's on the menu. And, if they don't, I don't think they should be dwelling on this fact.

Strange moment #3: The Bread or The waitress giveth and the waitress taketh away.

The waitress comes by to check on us as we are starting into the complimentary (yay!), warm (yay!) bread. It's kind of funky--a cheese bread. I'm not complaining but she sees my expression. She asks if I don't like the bread. I say it's okay. She says she can bring me something else. (Nice, right?) I say if it's no trouble that would be lovely, and she brings a basket with different bread in it. This time a multigrain.*

Picture it: we are two people sitting on the inside seats of a four top. This means that half of the table is empty. Space is not an issue--for us. In order to put the second basket down in front of us (why in front of us when there's half an empty table?), she pushes Hubby's water out of the way and nearly dumps it in his lap. As she puts the basket down she says "You probably want to combine those so you don't have two baskets." (Again, why?) While she is off at another table we meekly comply and she whisks away the empty basket when she swings by.

Once we have received and enjoyed our appetizers, she decides we've had enough bread, even though the basket is still half full. She picks up my bread plate and stacks it with the dirty appetizer plates. She starts to reach for my husband's bread plate...

Hubby: I think I'm going to have more bread.
Waitress: *pause* Oh.
She then turns to me and says: Would you like your plate back?
Me, looking at the stacked dirty dishes: No, that's okay.

Strange moment #4: The bill or You don't have to go home but you can't stay here.

In lieu of dessert we opt for after-dinner drinks. We are maybe a quarter of the way through them when she deposits the check in its billfold on our table. Um, huh? It's not like we are at the Waffle House and it's not like we have been dallying for hours and it's not like every table is taken and, most importantly, its not like we asked for the check!




* Bonus curiosity: If you managed a restaurant and had two types of bread, wouldn't you just put both types out for the table? Is there some reason you'd serve one type of bread at a time? What am I missing here? Help a blogger out.

Service? More Like Recitation

I had the pleasure of dining at two wonderful restaurants this weekend, one in DC and the other in NoVA. Great food, fine atmosphere, lots of good wines by the glass in both places. I won't tell you the names of these places as from here on down this is more a peeve about the current trend in service than a glowing report.

At both restaurants I felt like I was held captive by the waitstaff while they showed off what they knew.

At restaurant A:

Me: I have a question.
Waitress: Absolutely. Let me tell you all about our menu and if you have any questions about wine, I can tell you about that, too. In fact, let me point out a few things to you as you turn to page 12, here, of the drink list, you can see we've spared no expense to bring you some fantastic choices. We have more than 150 wines by the bottle and more than 60 wines by the glass. Oh, and blahblahblahblahBLAH.

Wait a minute. Did you not hear me say I had a question? Are you not the least bit interested in my question? Do you really think I want to hear a soliloquy before I ask my question?

At restaurant B:

Waiter: Do you know what you'd like?
Me: I do!
Waiter: Let me make a few suggestions that you may not have considered. At Restaurant Blahdeeblah we're proud to say we do things a little differently. We're delighted to offer a variety of specialty drinks that you've never heard of. My favorite is the Tommy Lasorda. It's got just the right level of insouciance and a surprising touch of filbert liqueur. Now if you were instead thinking about wine, of course we have umpteen different wines by the glass that I am very familiar with and they start here and go all the way to here sorted by blahblahblahblahBLAH.

Wait a minute. You asked me if I knew what I'd like and I said I do! What the HELL are you going on about? Let me tell you what I want and--here's a thought-- you shut up and go get it!

Why do I feel like I'm watching a performance, and a fairly lackluster one at that? Okay, so you had to memorize a lot to get this job. I get it. Doesn't mean I want to hear everything you know.

Frustrating Feasts (Art? Food? Both? Neither??)

There are many parts of enjoying a restaurant experience beyond the taste of the food: the coziness of the decor, the level of noise, the attentiveness of the waitstaff, the quality of the drinks, and so on. An important aspect is the presentation of the food, or "plating" as the Food Network is irritatingly fond of calling it. That is, arranging the food on the plate in such a way that it has visual appeal versus just slopping something on a plate any which way. It requires some forethought to consider not just a balance of flavors in a dish but also a balance of colors, textures, shapes, and so on. Much like an artist must consider all elements of a composition, so must the chef.

When it's done right, it is a pleasure to both the eyes and the taste buds. But sometimes chefs get carried away with presentation. Salads seem to be a particular struggle for them. It's like at some point as they are putting their menus together they each say, "Well, anybody can put a spinach salad together but if we're going to charge $14 for $3 worth of ingredients we have to find a way to make it memorable!"

A few months ago I ordered a salad and received a tower on a plate. Truly an architectural wonder. But to eat it required destroying it. There was no other way in. As soon as I tried to ease a small piece out of the configuration it fell to pieces like a bad round of Jenga. [Note to self: Is there such a thing as a good round of Jenga??]

Last night I had a very good restaurant meal. But still... I started with an arugula, pear and Parmesan salad. Sounds good, no? You know what I got? 6 1-millimeter thick slices of pear that were cut lengthwise so you got a set of pear profiles--about 3 inches long each--on the base of the plate, all facing clockwise at equal distance around the plate [June Taylor couldn't have arranged it better]; a large mound of lightly dressed arugula; and 1 2-inch by 2-inch finger nail-thin square of top-of-the-line Parmesan cheese centered on top. It was lovely, yes. I could only sit and admire it so long, though, and then I wanted to eat it. But do I want to eat the slice of cheese followed by the mound of arugula followed by the pieces of pear? No! I ordered them as a unit and I WANT THEM MIXED TOGETHER IN PIECES SMALL ENOUGH TO FIT IN MY MOUTH! Is that too much to ask? It's a SALAD fergawdssake. I'll give you the $14 if you'll just TOSS IT!! Presentation be damned!

Want to get wild? Sprinkle a little fresh herb around the edge of the plate for presentation and get over yourselves, chefs of the DC metro area. If I wanted "do it yourself" I'd have stayed home.