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I think I sat on a stump
or something at this joint. Or maybe it was some hippy drum. I don't
know, but it looked almost as uncomfortable as it was. I was also
sitting with my head right next to a counter and my coat was being
trod upon by skinny people in ugly shoes. I know it sounds like I
was eating in the Keebler Elf tree or something, but it was in fact
just a tiny little café place in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
There weren't any elves that I was aware of, but it surely seemed
like the food was prepared for some. It didn't help that we started
off the evening with a plate of charcuterie and cheese. Apparently
charcuterie is French for gross luncheon meat. So we had a plate of
very little cheese and some piggified deli slices, which, of course,
I didn't touch. I then had an entrée that comprised a small circle
of overcooked tuna medallions. Have you ever had overcooked tuna?
You might as well roll up a washcloth, douse it in sawdust and attempt
to shove it down your gullet. Needless to say, I choked the stuff
down and proceeded to look around to see if any seeds or whatnot had
fallen to the floor and were available for consumption. I was still
starving. It's a shame, really, as the place is a cute little rustic
neighborhood hole in the wall, and the entrees were reasonably priced
(although portion-wise you got what you paid for). Their thing is
fresh, organic American food, but when you can't cook the food correctly
that you have, what's the point? [MF]
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