For lunch, the Fabella gang invited me to join them at a newish resto called Burger Bar. I hadn't heard of it, but some fancy chef who Sabs likes is behind the endeavor. When I found out that it was at Macy's, I was skeptical, but then again, Macy's is home to Rick Bayless's tasty Frontera place, too. Stop being a snob, I told myself. Keep an open mind. Live a little.
I tried, I really did. But I was raised to believe that souvenir thongs do not belong in a fine dining establishment. Plus, there were neon beer signs and a TV playing six smaller screens of athletic events at each booth. We couldn't turn it off; I felt like I was in a sporty Steak & Shake. Again, though, I hoped the food might be fantastic. It was certainly priced in a way that suggested we were on the fast train to Delicioustown. Milkshakes began at $7 and went to $10.75. A Coke was $3.25. Veggie burger, $8 plus toppings. Crazy gourmet burger, $60. (I was grossed out by this last indulgent exercise in excess to no end. Sixty dollars is more than a day's wages for many American workers.)
Long story short, the veggie burger and sweet potato fries were both mushy and not as flavorful as one would hope for. I called them geriatric burgers due to their oatmealy texture. Omnivores reported that the beef burgers were good, though, and I believe them. They should be for $12. The company and the novelty made the outing a success, but still.
Tonight, after being driven home by a remarkably bitter taxi driver, we headed to Revolution Cafe for a snack. They weren't serving food, though, so we had drinks while a man plonked around on the piano. On the way home, I picked up a hot cocoa to help my bones heal; the barista asked where I'd been lately, because he hadn't seen me around in a while. It was a little gesture that, as silly as this sounds, made me happy. It's like thinking you've been walking around unnoticed for months, only to discover that you aren't as invisible as you might think. It is so easy and kind to make someone's day like that — and it's appreciated, especially if your establishment does not offer souvenir thongs.
I tried, I really did. But I was raised to believe that souvenir thongs do not belong in a fine dining establishment. Plus, there were neon beer signs and a TV playing six smaller screens of athletic events at each booth. We couldn't turn it off; I felt like I was in a sporty Steak & Shake. Again, though, I hoped the food might be fantastic. It was certainly priced in a way that suggested we were on the fast train to Delicioustown. Milkshakes began at $7 and went to $10.75. A Coke was $3.25. Veggie burger, $8 plus toppings. Crazy gourmet burger, $60. (I was grossed out by this last indulgent exercise in excess to no end. Sixty dollars is more than a day's wages for many American workers.)
Long story short, the veggie burger and sweet potato fries were both mushy and not as flavorful as one would hope for. I called them geriatric burgers due to their oatmealy texture. Omnivores reported that the beef burgers were good, though, and I believe them. They should be for $12. The company and the novelty made the outing a success, but still.
Tonight, after being driven home by a remarkably bitter taxi driver, we headed to Revolution Cafe for a snack. They weren't serving food, though, so we had drinks while a man plonked around on the piano. On the way home, I picked up a hot cocoa to help my bones heal; the barista asked where I'd been lately, because he hadn't seen me around in a while. It was a little gesture that, as silly as this sounds, made me happy. It's like thinking you've been walking around unnoticed for months, only to discover that you aren't as invisible as you might think. It is so easy and kind to make someone's day like that — and it's appreciated, especially if your establishment does not offer souvenir thongs.
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