Snooty Food for Snooty People by Ian Klymchuk We was out at Benny and Dottie's townhouse for our regular evening of euchre. After the game, Dottie announced, "Boys, we have a surprise for you tonight." Usually after cards, the girls bring out some President's Choice pie and ice cream, and we chit-chat for awhile before breaking up for the night. But that night, Heather, my better half, sez, "We're taking you out for dessert tonight, boys." |
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Well, Heather and Dottie both have jobs, and it's only fair that they treat us every once in awhile. So me and Benny helped them into their coats, and we was pretty excited as we all piled into Heather's Cherokee.
You may think it's peculiar that the little lady does the driving and has a Cherokee. But really it makes good sense. Me and Benny like to toss back a few when we're playing cards, so it's probably going to save me my licence if I have the wife do the driving. And she drives a Cherokee just in case...….well, you know what the weather can be like in these parts.
As we headed downtown, we neared one of them places that serves great nachos and beer. Benny and me nudged each other in anticipation. I was drooling so bad we almost had to call the plumber. But the wife just kept driving and pulled into the parking lot of Sebastians instead.
We was euchred. What could we do? We should have called a limo or taken the bus home. But doing that would have been like overtaking the wife's bower, and I'd a never heard the end of it.
Benny had told me about Sebastians. Poets and artists and sociologists and other pretentious snobs hang out there. Even that funny jogger from up at the U. goes there, I hear.
The place stinks. It smells of every different herb or spice ever invented. And I think they put every one of 'em in every dish they make: like rice, lentils, and barley with snails, cumin, and coriander. Not really, but you get the idea. And everybody goes ooohh and aahhh and pretends like they know what they're talking about, as if they actually eat that junk.
As the snooty food writers would say, "My companion" had the bittersweet chocolate whoositz. It looked great, but I'm telling you, if god had intended for us to like that stuff, we wouldn't have been allowed to invent milk chocolate. I'd rather have a Hershey bar.
Meanwhile, Benny was dying. You see, not only is his pumper worrying him, but his stomach reacts to spicy foods. So just the smell of the garlic there was killing him. "Benny," I sez, "They wouldn't put garlic in their apple pie!" At least I don't think so. So Benny had some pie and liked it ok except he usually likes ice cream with his pie.
His "companion" ordered the fruit salad. It looked good, and if you ever tried making one of these yourself, you know the price wasn't too bad either.
I was feeling pretty hungry, so I had a chicken and bacon and apple chutney and lettuce and tomato sandwich (no kidding) on 73-grain bread. I guess it was ok if you like that sort of thing. I'd prefer a double cheeseburger with fries, myself.
They have the usual perfumed and spiced coffees there. I'd give 'em a miss, though, and head for the soft drinks near the back if I was you. But be careful you don't end up with imported fruit googah instead of real stuff. By the way, if you get there at the right time, they even have a place where you can sip samples of white wine. It figures.
All-in-all, I gotta say this: the service was real speedy for a deli-type place, and the prices was pretty reasonable. So if you like snooty foods and snobby people, you might like this place.
I'll tell ya, though, with all them tables I was a bit surprised that no one was playing euchre at any of 'em.