I walked into the establishment with a ravenous appetite, the place was relatively clean and brightly lit, and a good noise level helped to boost my mood. It was busy, being the noon hour and families were happily dining away at all corners of the restaurant. I was a bit thrown off by not being greeted by the maître'de but eventually found myself a cozy little table next to a group of teenaged gastronomes who seemed to be enjoying their experience. This is where my visit took a bit of a downturn. I waited patiently for the server to come and offer me a beverage and a menu, absorbing the Dickensian ambiance, humming Das Lied von der Erde. Service was however not forthcoming despite several annoyed looks that I threw at the staff. Finally I accosted a young fellow who I imagined worked at the restaurant to experience the vibrancy of life and to pay his way through art college, "Chad" I said sternly, "Will you remonstrate with your manager and send my server to me at once?" Chad (as it stated on his name tag) gave me an amused look, causing me to heat up under the collar all the more. As he made off with his dust pan and broom he called out to his colleagues and pointed at me, chortling and guffawing. As it turns out this establishment helps control the cost of their meals by having their clientele queue up and order from a stationary server who then calls out the orders to the attendant chefs awaiting in the food preparation area. Once I had adjusted my mind to this revolutionary method for dining I focussed my attention on the fare on offer, and after looking over the menu for several minutes, enquired into the table d'hôte du jour. "Tanya", I queried, "What has your Chef des Chefs discovered at the market this morning? A tender morsel plucked from the seas, perhaps? A lovely fresh herbal mixture with which to create a succulent reduction?" Tanya informed me that the spéciale du jour consisted of a minced beef entrée accompanied by specially selected root vegetables julienned and immersed in a hot oil bath and served with a beverage gazifiée. My mood lifted as I stood to the side and awaited my order. Smiling, I looked around at the unpretentious décor, flambuoyantly and boldly founded upon a scarlet and golden motif and appreciated the simplicity of lines and tones that combined to create a campy but not hackneyed look. The atmosphere was also complemented by the dulcet sounds of a faux radioman accompaniment. I scanned the room for the source of the music and sketch comedy but came to the conclusion that there was a booth or room tucked away from view- brilliant! So then the main event, to wit- the meal itself. As I carried my simple and spartan fare back to my table, the presentation struck me outright. Silver trays and gravy trains be damned, what stared back at me was an ode to the simplicity of life, delivered by colourfully resplendent encasements, harkening one back to thought-provoking images of a post-modern daydream, highlighted with Chershiresque smiling faces and Blakian images of innocence lost and found again. Deep in midst of this wonderful dream I tasted the efforts of Tanya and her team of flavour-catalyst artisans and was at a loss for words. Never had I sunk my teeth into such tender and complex overtones. The beef, I felt, had to have been reared by a most loving and attentive soul, seeing to the bovine's every need. The careful attention to detail in all aspects of the meal were that of genius and the balance of flavour and textures made my soul soar with delight. Layered amongst the carefully seasoned beef were delicate nuances of fresh market fare- crispy kale-like leaves (which had surely been harvested that morning), delightful dabs of moist scallions, and delicately sliced gherkins rounded out the experience. The accompanying sauce was clearly a labour of love, and no doubt had been bubbling away overnight in an attempt to draw maximum flavour out of all it's elements. The root vegetables were crisp and simple as a monk's cloister, a worthy companion to the main dish. Tanya had selected my beverage for me and it accosted me with it's subtle caramel overtones and medium-bodied richness, a perfect foil to the simplicity of the side dish. In short, as I staggered back out into the sunlight, I thought to myself that if ever Gabriel, in all his glory were to return to our earthy confines to suckle at the teat of Nature's bosom I hope he finds me out and asks that I lead him to Her most luscious nipple. I now know where I shall guide him.
