This is not where we wound up.
There are pictures of the cafe itself, but sadly, they are way too small to be worth posting, but I'll play it off like I didn't post pictures in order to so intrigue the reader with my description that he/she has no choice but to go to the cafe himself.
This post will be another in the "let's wax poetic about New York series." And so we shall. Some people argue that it's all about location, location, location. I would argue it's all about feeling secluded in said location, location, location. While the actual interior of the cafe is unimpressive, although the stain glass windows would appeal to the lay medieval peasant, the garden adjacent to it was really nice--the walls were lined with ivy, which also hung overhead. I felt like I was in a cove. Obvi, this kind of feeling of safety had to be celebrated with champagne, which, for some reason, today sounds in my head the way that Christopher Walken says it in "The Continental" (the whole video is great, but 2:46 really hits the spot): http://www.hulu.com/watch/4191/saturday-night-live-the-continental (I don't know how to embed, and this interactive entertainment blogpost is really taking it out of me)
In any case, the champagne was not amazing, and the food was fine, but also nothing to reminisce fondly about. I had a portabella mushroom burger. It intrigued me with its jalapeno sauce, but I couldn't really taste it. Bush league. I literally can't remember any opinion I had on the food, other than that Erin's looked like something a college student whipped up in the microwave. Of course, no restaurant would admit that they just heat up frozen food. Unless, of course, the restaurant's name is Sam's or something, and when you ask them what's in their Haddock sandwich, they just say that they heat up frozen fish. Not that I speak from experience; Jim does. And just to round out the story, he ordered it anyway.
So maybe the food was lackluster. The conversation, on the other hand, was the best kind: political and uninformed: nothing like yelling at your friends either in agreement or disagreement about topics that we are woefully underinformed on, and recycle facts and figures we have heard from people who agree with us (usually our parents or some other knee-jerk liberal source). We covered everything from healthcare to poverty to corruption in politics to corn and the Man. Needless to say, no one changed her (singular agreement! grammar roolz) opinion, and order in the world was restored once again.
1 comment:
The "frozen bummer with fries," as Val and I affectionately referred to it, was delicious. That is all.
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