Last night, we went out to eat at a place called Hawthorne Cafe/Place/Restaurant somewhere across the river from downtown Portland, Oregon.
I was not especially in the mood to stay home as I'm in between moves again and the apartment has never been an accomodation of comfort or life. I don't presume this - I know this... oh, I digress as the apartment story can be another story at another time, of course...
Anyway, not surprisingly, the cafes/places/restaurants are a dime a dozen here. Many of which are wanna-be's of wanna-be's - I say this because if one has an idea for a restaurant, you can bet, you will find many of the same within a few miles of the same.
Heh, this is not rocket science ... definitely not.
Each one claims a specialty - yes, they will even put it in print .. as if you've not read a similar sign a few blocks before. Quaint, old-fashioned, homey, and we-sew-our-own-tablecloths-and-curtains-and-that-may-imply-to-YOU-that-we-make-our-food-from-scratch (whether-we-knoweth-what-we-doeth) type cafes/places/restaurants ... that is not much to go on when you crave something with an edge - even if the edge is not even the cuisine.
Yeah, I've been using the word "edge" quite a bit lately as I'm seeking a change of lifestyle somewhat.. so "edge" is defintely coveted.. anyway, I didn't really digress but on with the story...
Don't even think of ambience - it does not really happen. Most places are dark and don't especially have that "clean and appealing" look. I'm not sure why and where this idea comes from. The tiring look of old used wood and most often the equally tired look of the waiters is something that even from the most darkness recesses of your soul you cannot fathom why they torture themselves in these wooded dungeons of ...
There is bread and then there is bread. The is pie and then there is pie. Some will cater to your palate and you even squander a few fanciful thoughts that it will actually satisfy that "edge"...
...well, the attempt is there, even with tofu or soy products. Wait! - is tofu soy or vice-versa - I will never know... Anyway, this never really works if you were brought up on whole milk and the rich quality of butter made directly from the family cows. The taste of no-taste is always disappointing even if there is a spurt of jelly within the parameters of the product. Is it lunchtime yet? Yum?
We could not find the joint referenced on the internet as being a couple of blocks away from Ben and Jerry's ... so we cruised main a few times finally settling on some mediterranean place. This place looked like someone abandoned it after finding out the simple curtains just did not work.
Honestly? - I would have left it, too.
Approaching the front of the house/cafe/place/restaurant was somewhat confusing. The stairs were old and worn to a rounded unkept edge. Red Flag #1!
There was a single, ruffled soul sitting near a window with a glass of beer. Red Flag #2! My friend, Scott, had always told me to scope out the cafe/place/restaurant before going in: if no one is there - most likely the food is not that good.
Upon ordering St. Michelle Reisling Ice Wine and finding out after a few sips that I got something else - a shock to the mind and to the taste buds, I mentally questioned whether I misspoke. Somewhat vague Red Flag #3!
Alas, I did not! - the man-apron-thing approaches and somewhat (in his best "I'm-really-faking-this act") says that he chose a chardonney for me instead. Is this acceptable? - not in the restaurants I've been to! ... since when does a stranger decides how I want to violate my mouth...uh, dinner.
... but wait, I keep forgetting where I'm at in terms of what is acceptable and what is not. It's hard to say here and I mean here like "here where I live here"... a bit miffed, I thought "#@%&!, I woulda settled for even the Sauvignon Blanc Horse Heaven right now .. a much cheaper wine but atleast I would have chosen my assault. (Note: my words are becoming violent here - I have no violent tendencies though - it's just talk...yeah)
Sipping on the step-child-of-wines, I wait for my food. It takes a long time. I watch the waiter cut letttuce and tomatoes for someone else's dinner. I watch her put some kind of jelly concoction on something akin to spaghetti but from the distance, it could have been dough for all I could see. I watched again as she opened a large plastic sack of greens and started picking out the leaves that did not make the cut - really?..that is actually happening here? Where is our food?
Finally, she comes strolling with a .... small plate and bowl and two slices of bread. It's for my partner in crime: black bean soup with two somewhat crispy-edged bread and butter in wrapped foil. Heh, why not serve the butter in a butter dish? This is not carry-out! ... Where is MY food?
The partner offers a slice of bread and the foil container ...well, butter. I take it and gingerly shave off pieces of butter to mutilate the bread with... I eat. Partner offers a spoonful of soup - I take. Blech! - it is so bland. Partner says he could have made that at home from a can. I surmised it came directly from a can. Partner remains quiet. I look back over at the soup: Blech - double blech! (Note: by this time we've gone beyond any Red Flags so quit counting already... )
Okay, by now, I'm bored and have stopped drinking my glass of wine. I figure that something is not quite right here.
Finally, waiter arrives with two plates of food. My plate looks like a plate full of mixed brown rice, onions, mushrooms, broccoli... and some salmon sprinkled on the edge.
Everything but the salmon is steaming hot and ... somewhat "hamburger-helper looking." I look at partner and make a disappointed comment - I don't remember the comment (which is not uncommon as I have a whole repetoire of comments I either whisper beneath my breath or unknowingly leash upon others...sure. Right.)
The salmon is not "grilled" as promised.. and the rest, well, I could've stayed home and made that mess.
I look back at my glass of wine.
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