This week’s subject is about food and restaurant trends, which also happens to be my favorite topic, so get out your notebooks and pens because there will be a quiz later.
The first so-called “food” we’ll discuss is Brussels sprouts, a vegetable that can’t even decide whether it’s singular or plural.
I have never willingly eaten a Brussels sprout because they have the smell and appearance of something that has already made its way entirely through the digestive tract.
When I was a girl, my mother used to bring me to visit an elderly shut-in German lady named Frida, who had a trained Alsatian watchdog who was so terrifying that he had to be locked away when we visited.
In every other way, Frida was the kindest lady ever and my mom always enjoyed visiting. I liked it too, because she had a leather-bound collection of the greatest children’s stories ever written, and I’d hunker down with the Swiss Family Robinson, Heidi, Gulliver’s Travels and more.
The only painful part about this visit was the ending, when Frida would feed us a lovingly prepared, formal luncheon on a white tablecloth. I would dread these meals because they always included the hated Brussels sprouts. The mere smell put me off my food, but my mom wasn’t one of today’s touchy-feely moms who express sympathy and find a solution.
“You have to eat at least one to be polite,” she hissed at me firmly, whenever I reminded her of my aversion. I dreaded the thought of imbibing this one Brussels sprout like the coming of the atomic bomb, which we were practicing for at our school by climbing under our desks.
So I’d sit at the table, unable to focus on anything else, just staring at that one round green cruciferous vegetable with flop sweat pouring off my body.
I’d use my fork to mince it into small pieces, some of which may have ended up on the dining room carpet. I think the statute of limitations has run out on that one. I’ve blocked the actual ingestion out of my mind as too painful, but somehow I did get the thing down every week.
Now, however, it’s impossible to ignore these small green orbs, because they’re on every other restaurant menu. And my friends always try to convince me that this time, I’ll like them. “They’re fried and dipped in chocolate and honey.”
No. I won’t like them. Leave me alone. My only consolation is that these restaurant trends always fade away like tuna casserole and hopefully the next one will be more appealing, like vegetables fried and dipped in chocolate.
While we’re talking about restaurants, what’s with this trend of eating at picnic tables? Are we at a picnic? No. So then why do I have to raise my legs, exposing what’s underneath my skirt, and sit on a bench without a back to socialize with my friends. I’m as old as dirt. I don’t want to sit on a backless bench. A delicious restaurant that focused on sustainable fish recently went out of business and I was sad but not surprised, because the decor was early Soviet bus station, with uncomfortable benches to sit on.
Another restaurant with lip-smacking food makes you sit on little metal backless stools. I assume this is all an attempt to get you in and out of there quickly so they can turn the table, but all it does is keep me away from their scrumptious ramen.
I just realized I’ve done nothing but gripe this entire column, so let’s flip the narrative. There’s no doubt that the pandemic was horrible in many ways but it did one thing for us locally —every restaurant that wanted to survive created an outdoor dining space. Hello. We live in a paradise where we’re lucky enough to eat outside most of the time. Now, we can do it at our favorite restaurants. This makes me ridiculously happy. As long as the chairs have backs.
And then there are mocktails. Just when you thought you could avoid the $18 cocktail menu by giving up drinking, the mocktail came into fashion, giving that expensive, stemmed glass experience with all the cost but none of the alcohol. I applaud this move, because it’s a win-win for everyone. Nowadays, it seems like many of my friends have stopped drinking liquor, so this is a way for them to have fancy drinks with a twist. And restaurateurs can rake in those big bucks they make from the cocktail hour, even from those who’ve given it up. If you’ve ever had a mocktail at a restaurant that doesn’t know how to make them, you can easily tell it’s missing the alchohol. But nowadays some restaurants use special ingredients like fermented kombucha, fermented fruit brines and such to add the kind of texture and taste you expect from a pricey drink. And it works. Hopefully this will grow.
Looks like i’m out of room, but feel free to email me about this at mfisher@scng.com. I love hearing from you. Tune in next week for more blathering about nothing.